By Dawn's Early Light by Grundy

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Daddy's Girl

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Celebrían was startled at the expression on her husband’s face when he entered the room –their private sitting room, a sanctuary which even the children were expected to knock before entering.

He looked so disappointed, almost diminished.

“My love, whatever is the matter?” she asked in concern.

“I have lost her,” he murmured sadly. “I wonder if this is how my father feels about his sons?”

“Who?” she repeated, now well on the way to alarm.

“Anariel,” was his dejected reply as he sank into the chair opposite hers.

Celebrían reached out to touch her daughter’s fëa briefly, just to reassure herself that all was well with her. She was puzzled to find Anariel also in a less than happy state. She was disappointed, with threads of both frustration and self-reproach running through her mind.

“What happened?” she asked sharply, wondering what cultural misunderstanding has occurred now.

The weeks since their return to Arda have not been easy for Anariel – who stubbornly stuck to calling herself Buffy, clinging onto her familiar name with a tenacity she did not realize might be hurting others. Her daughter, like most of the other children, had not given overly much thought to what moving worlds entailed beyond separation from Giles and others left behind. The children, after the initial excitement of arrival and reunion, were suffering from culture shock.

“She called me Adar,” Elrond told her, sounding heartbroken.

Celebrían blinked. That sounded to her like massive progress.

Anariel’s ideas of her own capabilities when it came to learning a new tongue were shaped by her frankly awful experience with high school French. She had been severely shaken to discover that Middle Earth did not speak American, or even English. Westron was close, but only for those willing to make an effort. And the languages of the elves had very little in common with it. Her daughter’s lack of confidence that she would ever master the words her parents and brothers used with such ease had been far more of a stumbling block to her effort to learn than anything else.

“But, my love, you are her adar,” Celebrían pointed out gently.

“None of the other children are ever so formal with me,” Elrond replied in bewilderment. “There was not even anyone around to make her feel she might need to…”

He trailed off.

Now Celebrían dimly understood.

It would have been only the two of them, because Anariel will hardly have wished to try out a new word – particularly one that should be so simple, one that other elves have no memory of learning, because they have known it from their earliest days – in front of anyone other than her family. Even then, she would rather it be only her father or mother who heard, because she did not trust Tindomiel not to laugh, or want her brothers to think her as stupid as she feels.

She could picture it all too well. Anariel tentatively attempting the word, hoping that she had it right, and when Elrond did not respond as she’d hoped, no doubt covering it with one of those smiles she wears well enough to fool all but those who know her well.

Elrond did not know her well, because he has not had the chance.

Just as her daughter did not know that to the man who could have called himself High King of the Noldor had he wished it, ada is the title he holds dearer than any other. His children were his joy, and he has always endeavored to ensure that their childhoods were happy, not blighted as his had been.

“Husband,” Celebrían said with some asperity, “she does not know enough to understand that she was being formal.”

The startled hope in his eyes made her heart ache.

She kept it brief, but explained as best she could the damage that wretched French teacher had done to their daughter’s confidence. By the time she finished, he was fuming that someone so unsuited to the task was permitted to teach children.

She wondered, watching him as he complained, how Maedhros had taught him and his brother. Her parents spoke of the eldest son of Fëanor as having been fierce and reclusive by the time he and Maglor took the twins into their care, forbidding even to those who had known him in the days of his youth. Yet her husband clearly had no harsh teacher as a child.

Elrond suddenly stopped.

“But how can we correct her without upsetting her further?” he asked. “I wish her to know, but I also wish her to not become still shyer about trying out Sindarin.”

Celebrían smiled.

“Leave that to me, my dear,” she told him.

It was quite simple. She only needed to wait until later that afternoon, when both her husband and her daughter were sitting in the library – and she did hope Elrond noticed that Anariel had taken to ending up wherever her father happened to be whenever she had time not claimed by her brothers or her mortal friends. It was clear to her, at least, that Anariel wished to be close to her father but was uncertain how to go about it, given the less than pleasant memories she had of the man she’d believed to be her father in California.

With both of them in one place, Celebrían went ‘looking’ for Elrond, asking her youngest daughter if she knew where her father was.

Just as she’d expected, Tindomiel knew exactly where he was, and was more than happy to show her. She went skipping in ahead of her mother, cheerfully calling out as she did.

“Ada! Nana’s looking for you!”

Celebrían could see Anariel cock her head curiously, before asking – in English, of course – what her sister had just said. Elrond would probably not be able to follow the conversation, but that was to the good, as she suspected Anariel did not particularly want him to know what was passing.

“What did you call dad?” she asked Tindomiel quietly.

“Dad,” her sister replied.

“But I thought adar was dad,” Anariel protested.

“No, that’s father,” Tindomiel assured her. “You already know naneth is mother, but we never call her that unless there are visitors or people we don’t know that well around.”

“Oh.”

“If you want, I can tell you the words for sister and brother, too. And twins.”

“That would be cool, but maybe later. Speaking of twins, I think they’re heading for the stables.”

With that, Tindomiel bounced back out the door, unable to resist the combination of big brothers and horses.

“Anariel, what have you been doing?” Celebrían asked, knowing perfectly well what the answer was, and making sure to speak slowly enough that her husband could understand.

“Seeing ada read,” her daughter replied, boldly attempting an entire sentence. “And thinking that the book must not be very interesting, because he keeps staring out the window instead.”

Celebrían decided this was not the time to explain the difference between ‘see’ and ‘watch’. One word at a time. There was no rush. And Tindomiel had neatly covered the most important word today.

Elrond hadn’t smiled, but his entire demeanor softened at the sound of his daughter calling him ‘ada’.

“That, my sunshine, is because I have been wondering what you were doing here when these are ‘not your sort of books’.”

Even if she hadn’t understood everything he said before quoting her, Anariel did pick up on his warm tone and seemed to grasp the gist of it. This smile was one of her genuine ones, and Celebrían knew Elrond’s sharp eyes had spotted the difference.

“What, can’t a girl want to hang out with her dad… um, ada?”