[castle-perrault] RPfic!
Feb. 17th, 2016 09:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seikilosTitle: The Plan of Iladar
Fandom:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
castle_perrault, The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug, Undertale, Tales of Legendia
Genre: Gen
Rating & Warnings: G
Words: 446
Disclaimer: I don't own the above fandoms.
Summary: Tauriel's life has not followed her plan, especially when it comes to her children.
Author's Notes: My first (finished)castle_perrault fic! I read most of a sad thread between an AU version of Sans and Papyrus and became very sad, and wrote this to cheer myself up. :D;; Notes on the Sindarin that Sans-Serif and Tauriel speak at the end.
She had not meant to become a mother. Not now, not in this place, and not alone.
She is not completely alone, for Grune is in her boots as well. Yet at times, Grune also needs care. Even if she is not alone, she often feels this is so.
She had thought she might one day become a mother when she had wed, if she and her husband were given a child, or if she and her wife took in a young one whose family had departed for the Undying Lands. That her child would be an Elf had, of course, gone without question.
*
"mîn, tâd,
pedin 'suilad,'
neledh, canad,
ned i galad. . . ."
Sans-Serif's voice trails off. His hands remain pressed against hers, their clapping game brought up short.
"Lll. . . ." she hints.
"la. . . ."
She shakes her head. "Llle. . . ."
The faint lights of his eyes brighten. His hands move again and so do hers.
"leben, eneg,
ceno fileg. . . ."
No longer does Sans-Serif hold back for fear of cutting her with his finger bones, and nor is the sound of skin meeting bone strange to her. It is not the one that followed her through her childhood days. Instead, it is a sound that has become precious to her for what it means now.
Not far away, Grune and S-4 tend to the garden. S-4 wears a large hat with a brim that droops. Grune had found it for him to shield him from the sun; though he has no skin to burn, he wears it gladly, for it is a gift from her to him.
Grune has taught S-4 much about the growing of plants and flowers, and he has proven to be a quick student. His care equals that of his teacher, and Tauriel shares in Grune's pride in his love for that which lives.
"mimp, imp,
mîdh, limp!
adui!" Sans-Serif adds.
"Again?" She smiles. "But, hênig, this is already our second time."
"i need to practice," he insists. "if i don't, i won't be able to speak i lam thinndrim with you."
Her heart lifts, like leaves borne into the air by a gentle breeze.
"Very well," she says. "Adui."
Before they begin anew, she leans forward to kiss his brow. Though she has done this many times, he still looks upon her as she sits back as if she were Elbereth Gilthoniel herself.
*
The will of Iladar is unknowable to all save himself. She had believed many things about her life to comem that were not true. Instead, in Iladar's plan, she has found joy beyond hope.
* The chant is one I wrote to help my fellow students learn their numbers (with "Pedin 'suilad'"/I say "greetings" to replace me being silly).
* hênig: my (little) child
* i lam Thinndrim: the language of the Grey-Elves ("Sindarin" is the name we use for the language, not what Tauriel uses)
* Elbereth Gilthoniel: the Sindarin name for Varda, the Vala who created the stars and who is most loved by the Elves
* Iladar: the Sindarin name for Ilúvatar, the Creator
Fandom:
castle_perrault, The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug, Undertale, Tales of LegendiaGenre: Gen
Rating & Warnings: G
Words: 446
Disclaimer: I don't own the above fandoms.
Summary: Tauriel's life has not followed her plan, especially when it comes to her children.
Author's Notes: My first (finished)
castle_perrault fic! I read most of a sad thread between an AU version of Sans and Papyrus and became very sad, and wrote this to cheer myself up. :D;; Notes on the Sindarin that Sans-Serif and Tauriel speak at the end.She had not meant to become a mother. Not now, not in this place, and not alone.
She is not completely alone, for Grune is in her boots as well. Yet at times, Grune also needs care. Even if she is not alone, she often feels this is so.
She had thought she might one day become a mother when she had wed, if she and her husband were given a child, or if she and her wife took in a young one whose family had departed for the Undying Lands. That her child would be an Elf had, of course, gone without question.
"mîn, tâd,
pedin 'suilad,'
neledh, canad,
ned i galad. . . ."
Sans-Serif's voice trails off. His hands remain pressed against hers, their clapping game brought up short.
"Lll. . . ." she hints.
"la. . . ."
She shakes her head. "Llle. . . ."
The faint lights of his eyes brighten. His hands move again and so do hers.
"leben, eneg,
ceno fileg. . . ."
No longer does Sans-Serif hold back for fear of cutting her with his finger bones, and nor is the sound of skin meeting bone strange to her. It is not the one that followed her through her childhood days. Instead, it is a sound that has become precious to her for what it means now.
Not far away, Grune and S-4 tend to the garden. S-4 wears a large hat with a brim that droops. Grune had found it for him to shield him from the sun; though he has no skin to burn, he wears it gladly, for it is a gift from her to him.
Grune has taught S-4 much about the growing of plants and flowers, and he has proven to be a quick student. His care equals that of his teacher, and Tauriel shares in Grune's pride in his love for that which lives.
"mimp, imp,
mîdh, limp!
adui!" Sans-Serif adds.
"Again?" She smiles. "But, hênig, this is already our second time."
"i need to practice," he insists. "if i don't, i won't be able to speak i lam thinndrim with you."
Her heart lifts, like leaves borne into the air by a gentle breeze.
"Very well," she says. "Adui."
Before they begin anew, she leans forward to kiss his brow. Though she has done this many times, he still looks upon her as she sits back as if she were Elbereth Gilthoniel herself.
The will of Iladar is unknowable to all save himself. She had believed many things about her life to comem that were not true. Instead, in Iladar's plan, she has found joy beyond hope.
* The chant is one I wrote to help my fellow students learn their numbers (with "Pedin 'suilad'"/I say "greetings" to replace me being silly).
* hênig: my (little) child
* i lam Thinndrim: the language of the Grey-Elves ("Sindarin" is the name we use for the language, not what Tauriel uses)
* Elbereth Gilthoniel: the Sindarin name for Varda, the Vala who created the stars and who is most loved by the Elves
* Iladar: the Sindarin name for Ilúvatar, the Creator
