Back In The Valley by Grundy

Back To The Valley

Read Back To The Valley

Elrond rose early the next morning. It wasn’t unusual for him to be the first of the family up and about, but this morning in particular he hoped for a peaceful hour or two. He knew his household would be not be quiet today given all the visitors, even before the arrival Anariel was eagerly awaiting.

His daughter had gone to bed early last night. Elrond was unsure if she had been truly tired, or was just doing what she could to get to the next day faster. He had privately enjoyed the rare sight of Galadriel pouting when Anariel preferred Elwing be the grandmother to sing her to sleep. (Galadriel was consoled, or at least induced to put on a neutral expression by her husband’s entirely reasonable observation that Elwing had gotten precious few opportunities for that so far compared to Galdriel’s years of knowing and fussing over her grandchildren in Middle-earth.)

Elrond was somewhat surprised that his youngest daughter hadn’t turned up – generally she knew whenever someone had returned, and always thrilled at the reunions. Perhaps she would be arriving today also. She was sure to be excited about the prospect of Ambarussa seeing their mother for the first time since the Darkening.

He was still more surprised to find himself not the first in the dining room. Anariel was already up and about, breaking her fast with tea and toast.

“Good morning, Ada!” she beamed as she doctored her toast with a generous portion of butter before spreading marmalade over it.

Tindomiel was not the only one excited at the idea of a grandmother welcoming her sons back.

“Good morning, my sunshine. Only toast this morning?”

“We ate a lot yesterday,” she pointed out. “And the day before that wasn’t exactly light either. There’s only so much feasting a girl can handle before her stomach says ‘enough’. Eggs and bacon felt like too much this morning. Especially since I’m guessing we’re going to have a big dinner tonight.”

“I suspect you’re right,” he smiled, helping himself to bread, cheese, and jam.

The kitchens were in a swivet at being asked to prepare for such an occasion on short notice, not that he seriously thought anyone was about to fuss over what was served. Ambarussa had already been quizzed on their likes and dislikes, and Elrond mildly scolded for not giving more notice. (He was confident the cooks would do themselves proud as usual.)

He was tempted to ask his daughter, now before anyone else was about, if she’d just happened to hit on a lucky guess when she’d predicted his twin uncles would be the next sons of Fëanor to return, or if she had been in communication with Namo. Had Tindomiel been present, he’d have suspected her of taking a hand in matters, but as she wasn’t…

Before he could make up his mind, his daughter spoke.

“I wasn’t here yet when Uncle Moryo returned,” Anariel said. “Were people in Tirion… ok about it?”

The pause seemed to indicate she’d been casting around for a good word. Elrond realized with a start that she’d not heard that particular story, only that her sister had been involved – that part had come out when Anariel had admitted to doing something similar with Finduilas.

She was mildly concerned she might be in for a lecture from Galadriel’s royal father about disturbing the peace.

“Tirion will be just fine,” he assured her. “If anything, some segments of it may be overenthusiastic. It’s as well you had the idea to give Grandmother time to see them away from all that.”

He privately thought that decision had been more about her own reluctance to return to Tirion so soon than any worry about Ambarussa. Celebrían’s theory was that she’d had enough of her grandmother Anairë. Elrond wasn’t entirely sure. From what he’d seen, she’d been tolerating Anairë’s fussing far better than Tindomiel had so soon after arrival. But he had noticed her chafing at some of the common Noldorin assumptions about her, and the attitude of her grandfathers towards things she regarded as perfectly normal, such as sparring to burn off the relentless energy of the Slayer.

Speaking of which, his daughter had finished her meal and was clearly itching to be out of doors.

“You need not wait on me to finish, my sunshine,” he assured her with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll get to show off your ability to sit still later at dinner.”

That got a look of immense relief, a hasty ‘thank you, Ada’, and a kiss on the cheek before she was out the door and over the balcony.

He heard a chuckle behind him. Celebrían was with the day at last.

She joined him to watch their daughter all but sprint up the road and disappear among the branches of one of the largest oaks in the valley.

“The child that loved her shoes barefoot up a tree,” she sighed fondly as she took the seat next to him. “She would never have believed it in California if anyone had tried to tell her.”

Elrond raised an eyebrow.

“I know she takes a keen interest in fashion, but surely children in California are not required to wear shoes at all times?” he asked in astonishment.

He and his brother had been known to strenuously protest as children when the return of winter signaled the return of wearing shoes daily.

“They found what the evening news dubbed ‘killer bees’ in the San Joaquin Valley when she was five,” Celebrían said wryly. “It was a good hundred miles from us as a bird flies, but the reports made quite an impression. The only place I remember seeing her shoeless outside the house after that is the swimming pool or the beach.”

“Killer… bees?” Elrond asked dubiously, rising to bring his beloved the breakfast pastry he knew to be her preferred version of a light meal to start the day.

Weaponized bees smacked of Sauron or Morgoth.

Celebrían sighed and told him a tale of hybrid honeybees, and sensationalized news that he could easily understand making a lasting impact on the mind of a young child. He supposed they should be thankful Anariel had eventually reconsidered in the light of Anor.

“I suppose she’s up there looking for Nerdanel?” Celebrían asked in her turn, waving toward the tree.

Had they not known she was there, Elrond doubted either of them would have spotted her, even knowing that the other three children all found that particular junction of branches a comfortable spot. Celeborn’s training had eventually taken, dubious as Anariel might have been about it at the start.

“No doubt,” Elrond grinned. “It also has the virtue of keeping her out of whatever mischief your mother and her cronies get up to until then.”

“I’ll remind you those cronies are your uncles and great-aunt,” Celebrían sniffed.

In truth Irissë was slightly further removed, but Elrond had swiftly imitated his youngest daughter and given up on precise language for his kin. He also forebore to point out that by Lindarin standard, Aredhel was Celebrían’s aunt, not great-aunt.

“The boys are liable to egg any mischief on,” his wife added. “As are your other twin uncles.”

“And Anariel won’t?” he laughed.

The boys would actually pause for thought at the wilder ideas from the relative they’d dubbed ‘Aunt Trouble’. Anariel was unlikely to bat an eye – he suspected in a wild ideas contest, she’d win hands down.

At least you acknowledge that, Celebrían said wryly. I have the impression your grandfather doesn’t have any idea just how much trouble Aunt Aredhel can be!

“His daughter didn’t decide hiking through Mordor was reasonable,” Elrond muttered.

“In fairness, I don’t think Aunt Aredhel knew Mordor existed,” Celebrían giggled.

“She also didn’t go dragon hunting or balrog hunting,” he sighed.