Disclaimer:All, besides the OC's, belongs to the Great Professor Tolkien. I have just borrowed the characters and places for a little while…

The background to the story:At the beginning this story was meant to be a sequel to the fic "The Risingsun of Lindon" but then I suddenly came to my senses after reading one of the most hilarious fanfics in my life and realized that the story contained a shameless Mary-Sue, which embarrassed me to no end. I have deleted that story to my great delight and this story became a one on its own- that is why a background is needed.

Arnatur was the son of Celebrimbor, the maker of the Three and the grandson of Feanor, and so was the son of the Lord of Eregion, or Hollin as men call it. When the city was laid waste and Celebrimbor slain, Arnatur fled together with the remnant of the Noldor and Elrond Half-Elven and found the refuge of Imladris, there he lived until the days of the Last Alliance.

On the way to Mordor the hosts of Gil-galad and Elendil stopped at Imladris where more elven soldiers gathered to fight Sauron and his evil minions, Arnatur among them.

On one of the nights somebody asked the High King who governed Lindon while he was away at battle and Gil-galad laughed. "I am not troubled for my Kingdom, My good elf" he said, "For a lady wise and fair asTuilesits on my throne and keeps trouble at bay. She is of my kin and as close to me as only a sister might be. Her grandmother was Irime, or Lalwen as she was best known, sister to King Fingolfin, who had went into exile with her brother for he was dear to her. I fear not, Lindon is in most gentle hands"

Arnatur, that sat nearby and heard the tale, fell in love with the image of the Lady and swore that were he to stay alive and survive the battle he would go to Lindon and set eyes upon the fair maiden.

When the war ended, Gil-galad fell into shadow and Arnatur came back wounded, but alive, he asked leave of Elrond as he healed and set out for Lindon, indeed finding there the lady of his reveries who grieved together with her people for the loss of their king. There Arnatur spent twenty years until Yare's heart at last turned to him and he wedded her, thus becoming the Lord of Lindon.

The story begins at the birth of their Firstborn Fea, who is the heroin of this fic. It deals with the story of her life and the love she later on comes to share with lord Glorfindel.

Now, dear readers, if you are not yet weary out of your wits from the background, do proceed to the story, I hope you enjoy it!

Notes:

Yes, I can assure you, Irime is indeed a canon character. You may look her up in: "Morgoth's Ring" and"The Peoples of Middle Earth."

All the Elvish in this Story is Quenya, unless my OC's speak with an elf or someone else who does not use this language. In those cases it shall be Sindarin or the common tongue.

Chapter One

Year 100 of the Third Age, Imladris.

"What if something goes amiss?"

The Lord of Lindon was pacing to and fro, wringing his hands in great anxiety and anticipation. He was not clad in his usual robes that swept the floor with much grace, but in a simple red tunic and black leggings. If to say the truth, he hoped that he would be admitted to the room, which's doors now stood shut before him, but an annoyed glance from the midwife when he sought entry proved him otherwise.

"Arnatur, be at ease. It is naught but a natural process. Indeed, a painful one, but still-", the words of Master Elrond were cut by yet another agonized moan from within the chamber and he fell silent.

With a frustrated sigh Arnatur, son of Celebrimbor landed in his seat. He placed his elbows on his thighs in a way that could provide his head the support of his strong hands and heaved.

"Mighty Manwe!" He cried, "This is torture!"

Glorfindel, who was standing by the door and wincing at every yelp of pain that irrupted from within the chamber, made his way to sit by the Lord of Lindon.

"My friend," he said and softly placed his hand on the other Elf's shoulder, "I know that it is hard, but pray, as Elrond requested, be at ease and all shall be well."

Arnatur lifted his head and tried to smile at his friend, his eyes shone with fear and his lips were parted slightly by a worried breath. He nodded firmly and hung his head.

Glorfindel stood up and returned to the door. He leaned his head against the wooden layer and closed his eyes. Both elf lords followed his moves with worry. He breathed deeply and sighed.

"It is nearly time." He said peacefully.

Arnatur shifted uneasily in his seat.

"How do you know?" he asked, his tone pleading.

Glorfindel opened his eyes and leaned against the wall.

"Yare's breathing becomes more ragged, more troubled and unsteady. I can hear it through the door; it means that the contractions are very frequent and strong."

Arnatur opened his mouth to say something, but in that very instant a loud cry had pierced the silence and demanded the attention of all. His eyes widened and a broad, relieved smile decorated his lips. He jumped from his seat, as did Elrond, and faced Glorfindel, who was grinning at him serenely.

"Blessings and health, father." He whispered and bowed his head.

"Wisdom and beauty, Lord." Smiled Elrond and clasped Arnatur's shoulder.

"A golden heart and pure spirit." Mumbled Arnatur himself, as he blinked and inhaled deeply.

The heavy doors opened easily before his gentle hands and Arnatur, hesitatingly, walked in.

On the bed, weary but happy, lay his beautiful wife. She was holding a little bundle in her hands and smiling.

"My dear one," she said with a tired but content voice, "you look as if it was you who had born and birthed a child. Are you well? But come now, have a look at your daughter…"

His eyes brightened in delight.

"A daughter…" he said and set by his wife, embracing her with one arm, "Beloved…"

He looked at the face of the little babe that lay peacefully in Yare's arms. Her eyes shone with silvery- grey light, and the hair that crowned her little head was raven.

"She has your eyes, my love, and your hair. Look! Even the mouth is yours!"

Arnatur closed his eyes and smiled happily. He brushed his lips upon Yare's forehead, and then bent his head to capture her mouth with a soft kiss.

"Since you and I both are raven haired and grey eyed, I would say it is impossible to tell who is to blame for the child's coloring; but alas, you are right, the mouth is indeed mine."

His wife laughed quietly and relaxed in his arms.

Arnatur reached out and caressed a tiny cheek with one finger.

"Do you wish to hold her?"

He turned to Yare and smiled.

"Aye…"

And so his daughter was placed in his arms. She was his firstborn, his beauty, his precious jewel.

"Kurwen…" he whispered.

"Crafty maiden…indeed she will be, " said Yare and sighed, "you have chosen a beautiful name".

"Have you chosen one…?" he asked and turned to look at her. He noticed that his wife was smiling smugly.

"Aye, I have".

"Well…?" he asked and arched his eyebrows

Yare laughed and indicated towards the door.

"What about our dear friends? I am sure they wish to see our child…"

Arnatur rose to his feet and returned Kurwen to her mother. He walked to the doors and opened them, inviting sunlight and elven lords to enter.

"Lady Yare, your beauty shines bright, even after such efforts." Smiled Elrond and walked in.

"Thank you, my lord," she laughed and sighed, "efforts indeed…"

When the three elven lords were sited around her and the newborn babe was introduced to all, Yare decided to let them know of the mother name she has chosen for her daughter.

"I have named her Fea, for her spirit is bright and strong," she said and smiled at the sleeping infant, "and by her spirit and skill she will be known best."

After a moment of silence she looked at them once more.

"Master Elrond, husband; may I converse with Lord Glorfindel in private?"

Elrond and Arnatur exchanged surprised glances and nodded. With slight bows and a soft kiss from Arnatur upon his wife's forehead, they left the chamber. Glorfindel, who was even more confused than the other two elves, remained silent in his seat.

"What think you of my daughter, Golden One?"

Glorfindel did not answer for a while as thoughts and foretelling filled his mind.

"She will be beautiful, Lady; very beautiful. And she shall be wise and strong. Her hands shall be the hands of a true Noldo; blessed with craft and skill. This child, this fair lady, shall be my undoing, though in what way, I cannot say…"

The Lady of Lindon smiled, relaxed into the pillows and held her newborn daughter tightly to her chest, saying nothing.

Year 130 of the Third Age, Lindon.

She climbed upon the great wooden carved chair that was so carefully leaned against the banister of the balcony and stood on her tiptoes, eagerly examining the beautiful gardens that had gracefully laid themselves before her like a devoted pat.

As always, the beauty of these gardens that decorated the palace; those green lawns that caught the eye and teased the peace of the heart with their fairness, mesmerized her. She was ready to spend the whole afternoon observing them from above, standing on that stool that she borrowed from the entrance hall, and sigh in happiness. The truth was that she was never happy behind the golden bars of her cage that was so conveniently named the 'Royal Chamber of the young Lady, daughter of the High Elven Lord of Lindon'. She was always seeking an opportunity to run out and chase the butterflies or climb one of those big trees that taunted her with their height; and whenever she got such moments of gold she would use and spend them 'till the last drop, enjoying and savoring the sweet feeling of freedom.

Below her, talking loud enough to awaken a drunken troll from his motionless sleep, walked Arcalimo and Failon, the head counselors of her father. They were deeply engaged in a conversation about the development of Quenya through the time of the trees and the First Age.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. Not only did they disturb her peace with their loud, excited cries about phonetics and accent but they also disturbed her with a boring discussion about languages that made her eyelids drop!

"My lords!" she cried from above, making the two dark haired elves jump with a start and look up, "Fair day is it not?"

Arcalimo, who seemed to recover faster than his friend, smiled warmly at the little elfling and cried back that the day was indeed fair.

"How are you faring, young lady?" asked Failon, who decided to join the company, with a clear voice.

"I was looking at the gardens, Lord Failon, but they were not so deeply embroidered in my mid day dream, so it seems, for your wonderful discussion about Quenya penetrated into each cell of my body." She cried joyfully, causing the two elf lords to blush.

"A…we beg your pardon, Lady Kurwen, for disturbing your reverie."

She frowned at the use of her 'father name'. Just as her great, great grandsire Feanor, she wanted to be known by her 'mother name' and erase "Kurwen" from existence. The use of the name that her father has bestowed upon her at birth was a very sore matter with the young lady of Lindon.

"It is alright, my lords. I really do not mind -"

She was about to tell them that they really had done nothing wrong, and that their hands and conscience were clean but an urgent call from within the house made her gasp and swallow hard.

"I shall see you later, lords!" She cried to the astonished elves and jumped from the chair as the loud cries of her father filled the Palace.

"Kurwen! Daughter! Where is she?"

Fea was pulling the heavy chair after her, trying hard not to trip over her long dress, when strong hands swept her off her feet and threw her in the air, catching her just in time.

"So here you are my little princess!" cried her father as she embraced his neck, "Where did you think you were taking this chair?"

She laughed and caressed his young face with her little hands.

"I was returning it to its rightful place in the entrance hall!"

Her father smiled and kissed her nose, causing another fit of giggles to emerge from the little mouth of his lovely firstborn. He hugged her tightly and put her down.

"I have a gift for you, atto!" she cried and pulled at his robes that always made her laugh for they were as long as her mother's garments. "Come to my chamber and I shall show you!"

Arnatur laughed as she led him to her rooms.

"All right, my lovely one, but do not pull so hard, or I shall trip".

To that she chuckled and threw her head back in amusement.

"But you cannot fall, atto! You are a graceful elven lord!"

As they entered the beautiful chamber, she left his side and ran to her little escritoire, leaving him at the doorstep. Only a couple of minutes passed before she returned, beaming with joy and holding a bundle in her hands. Arnatur knelt before his daughter and collected her in his hands.

"What is it that you bring me, my child?" he asked as he caressed her back with gentle fingers. Fea unwrapped the little gift that she held in her arms, revealing a necklace made from a single silver wire and little crimson jams that were embracing the strong string forcefully. The lord of Lindon gasped and held the creation against the sunlight, admiring the game it played with the transparent gems.

"I made it all by myself, atto! Well…it is true that Lord Erestor was the one to find the materials, but other than that, the work was all mine!" she cried gleefully, looking smugly at the admiring glances of her father.

"And what do we have here? What are my two most beloved elves are doing without my company? It is not a conspiracy I hope!"

The amused voice of the lady of Lindon was heard as she came from behind them, touching her husband's shoulders with soft hands.

"My Love," said Arnatur as he rose to his feet and placed his arm around the waist of his wife, "look at what our daughter made." And to Fea's greatest satisfaction he showed the gift to her mother, who reacted in the same satisfactory way that her father had.

"Have you made it all by yourself?" asked Yare as she knelt before the smug figure of the young lady of Lindon. Fea, who decided to drop the subject of the materials aside, smiled with pleasure and nodded, accepting a tight embrace from her mother.

"Aye!" she cried," all by myself!"

"One day," Yare whispered in her hair, "you will be a great craftswoman, my love, and all shall know you and your skill". Then she rose to her feet and held out her hand for her daughter to grab.

"Come my lovely, you should rest; tomorrow we begin our long journey to the fair valley of Imladris".

Fea frowned but accepted the hand that was offered to her.

"I wish we could go visit Gondolin instead…"

To that both Arnatur and Yare smiled sadly.

"Kurwen, little one, Gondolin is gone…" said her father with a hint of grief in his voice. "And alas for the evil wars and oaths, we cannot look upon her beautiful walls and gardens and people…"

Fea bowed her head in defeat and sighed, before raising her eyes to her mother with renewed hope.

"Will you tell me of the Golden-Haired One, nana? Will you tell me of Lord Glorfindel and the Balrog? Because of all the stories I like this one best! Will you, nana? Please…"

Yare smiled and shared a knowing glance with her husband.

"Aye, daughter," she said as they reached their chamber, "that I shall…"