The Kids Are All Right Outtakes by grey_gazania

Henthael was in the washhouse, scrubbing at a stubborn stain on his favorite tunic, when Lady Ianneth set up shop beside him, a basket full of sheets in her arms.

“My lady,” he said, giving her a respectful nod – the best greeting he could manage when his hands were covered in soap. Technically, with Fingon dead, Ianneth no longer held the title of queen, but in Henthael’s head, he still thought of her that way. He may have had a dim view of Fingon, but that had never extended to the man’s wife, who was kind, a skilled healer, and one of the most sensible and level-headed people he’d ever met. True, she was no Noldo, but Indis had been no Noldo either; mingling of the Kindreds was bound to happen, and as any Noldorin smith would tell you, alloys were the stronger metals. Much like Indis, Ianneth had done as fine a job as queen as any Noldorin woman could have managed. 

“Henthael,” Ianneth said, returning his nod, “hello. Are you keeping well?”

“As well as any of us, my lady. I’m dead sick of all this snow, but who isn’t?”

Ianneth hummed in agreement as she sorted out the pillowcases and submerged them in the water trough beside him. They worked in companionable silence for a while, and then Ianneth said, “So, you’re encouraging my daughter to go into politics.”

For a moment, Henthael stilled in his work, suddenly wondering if he’d misstepped in urging Ereiniel to take on a position of leadership. Perhaps Ianneth arriving here at the same time as him hadn’t been a coincidence. Perhaps Ianneth disagreed with his suggestion.

“Does she not have your blessing, my lady?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, she does,” said Ianneth. “I think her father would be proud of her, knowing that she’s looking to take on the responsibility. He always told her that she came from a line of kings, and that kings have a duty to care for their people. I’m just wondering – what made you suggest it? I know you’re fond of her, but she is rather young. She only came of age at the beginning of the year.”

Henthael didn’t answer right away, but continued scrubbing at his tunic, smelling the mint in the steaming water as he tried to formulate his thoughts. He knew why he supported Ereiniel, but he hadn’t told Ereiniel the whole truth when he’d urged her to think about her duties.

Still, with Ianneth, honesty would surely be the best policy.

“I didn’t tell her this, my lady,” he said, “but I’ll tell you. Fingolfin is dead. Fingon is dead. Turgon is king. And believe me, I wish Turgon no misfortune; long may he live and long may he reign. But given the state of things…I think there’s a good chance that he may not live all that long. After him, we have the lady Aredhel’s son – I can’t remember his name – but if he dies, the House of Finwë will have run out of men. At least, men who aren’t Dispossessed. And I don’t think any of us here want one of Fëanor’s sons on the throne.”

Abdicating on behalf of his entire bloodline had been the smartest thing Maedhros had ever done.

“We’ll need to look elsewhere for our leaders,” he continued. “We could do worse than Ereiniel. Yes, she’s young, but she cares, she works hard, and she’s got a good head on her shoulders. Rather like you, really. She inherited your common sense, which is probably one of the best things you could have given her. If Gondolin falls, I would put my trust in your daughter.”

Ianneth was silent, and she’d let the pillowcase rest unheeded in the water. “You have a lot of faith in her,” she said.

“I would have followed Fingolfin to the gates of Angband itself if he had asked me,” Henthael said, his voice soft and serious. “Ereiniel reminds me very much of him. You say you think Fingon would be proud of her. I think Fingolfin would be proud of her, too. He loved her dearly.”

“I suppose I should thank you, then, for your support.”

“Of course, my lady. She’ll have my support as long as she needs it.”

Because, Henthael thought, I know someone fit to be a king when I see them.

Chapter End Notes

Celebrimbor is up next!

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I had expected, when we arrived to seek refuge with Círdan’s folk, that someone would bring up Curufin sooner or later. My father’s misdeeds were well-known and, outside of the southeastern lands still controlled by my uncles, his name was now infamous, a byword for treachery and deceit. Though I had repudiated my father’s deeds, renouncing him in no uncertain terms, there were those in Nargothrond who had not been happy to see me stay, and sometimes I felt as though my father’s reputation was hanging over me like a shadow

That was why I’d taken on my mother's name, though I barely remembered her, having last seen her when I was four years old. She hadn’t come to Beleriand. My father had always told me that she had abandoned us, making it out to be a betrayal on her part. I hadn’t learned the truth until I was much older, visiting my uncle in Thargelion, when I had made an offhand remark about my mother-name. Caranthir, apparently fed up with my father’s lies to me, had decided then that I deserved to know what had really happened.

My mother had stayed in Aman. That much was true. But she had insisted to my father that I should remain with her, arguing that the voyage to Beleriand was far too dangerous for a young child.

My father had pretended to agree. Then he had stolen me away in the night, like a thief, unwilling to leave his namesake and only son behind.

Caranthir held me while I cried, and then sat up with me for the rest of the night, indulging my sudden need to know more about my mother by telling me as many stories as he could remember.

I had her eyes, he told me, and her laugh, and her taste for spicy foods. She'd grown eight varieties of chili pepper in the garden in Formenos, carefully crossbreeding them for more flavor and greater heat. She'd named me Tyelperinquar for the way I liked to tug on her jewelry as an infant. She was the strongest swimmer in the family, beating my grandfather and all my uncles at races in the pools of the Híri. She had a sharp temper that was every inch the match of my father’s. She was a genius at making fireworks. She brewed her own cider, both soft and hard. Her father had been one of my grandfather's closest friends. As a child, she’d once smacked my father over the head with a toy cow when he pulled her hair. They’d grown more friendly in their adolescence, and had married soon after my father's fiftieth begetting day.

Looking back, that night had been the start of the cracks in my relationship with my father, though Caranthir had gallantly taken the brunt of Curufin’s anger in my stead. Over the years, the distance between us had grown, ending in that horrible night in the great hall of Nargothrond, before Orodreth’s throne, when I had disowned myself from the House of Fëanor.

Of course I had denounced Curufin. What other choice was there? He and Celegorm had gotten our cousin killed. Besides, I had sworn no oath pertaining to my grandfather’s stolen treasures, and I had no desire to throw my life away and betray my blameless kinsmen in their pursuit.

All of which was to say that, yes, I had expected to be greeted with some hostility. I simply hadn’t expected it to happen so soon, before I had even told anyone my name. But perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised. I knew that I resembled my father so closely that, if not for my mother’s eyes, one might have thought she had no part in making me, and that I had sprung fully formed from one of Curufin’s crucibles. Among some of the Noldor, I didn’t need to give my name in order to be recognized.

What I hadn’t expected was that I would be defended by anyone other than my surviving companions who had escaped with me from Tumhalad, or that I would be greeted as kin by anyone at all. I wanted to thank Fingon’s daughter, but the words stuck in my throat.

Still, I resolved then and there to do all I could to aid Círdan and his people.

Chapter End Notes

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