Chapter I
Disclaimer: I do not own the Silmarillion or any of its characters, much as I might wish to.
The gentle silver light from Telperion streamed in shifting rays over Aman. Most elves in the city of Tirion were abed, save a few wandering couples taking a romantic stroll through the glades and woods that bordered the city. Far away, shimmering snow on the high peak of Taniquetil glimmered. Peace, as it ought, reigned supreme in the land of the Valar.
Fingolfin suppressed a yawn as he hurried through the silver-lit streets. He would never know what had possessed his half-brother to live on the other side of the city, away from the rest of his family. It made visiting very inconvenient, which, he realized, was likely the reason for the distance. His family, along with Finarfin's household, had just concluded a day-long family feast at Fëanor's home. It had taken the better part of the morning to even reach his brother's house, and even longer to make their way back. Fingon, Turgon, and little Aredhel had been exhausted from roughhousing with their cousins, tearing up and down the lawns and woods all day long. The two youngest had to be carried. Riding was out of the question in the busy streets, and the children would have been unable to manage the horses in their tired state. It was a trip one tried to avoid.
Under normal conditions, Fingolfin would never have gone to his brother's house twice in one day, especially not late in the night when most reasonable people were abed. But Aredhel had left her favorite doll, a perfect replica of an elf in full armor, somewhere on Fëanor's massive grounds while she was playing with her cousins. Her sobs upon discovering this tragic loss prevented anyone from getting any sleep, at least until Fingolfin promised to retrieve it that very night. Mollified, Aredhel fell asleep curled up in a chair by the door, awaiting the doll's return, and the rest of the household was saved from certain hearing loss.
Fingolfin, however, was forced to rush away to his half-brother's house, find a small doll in a large property, and rush back. He was already tired from wrangling verbally with Fëanor during their earlier visit and staving off Finarfin's well-meant attempts at peacemaking. However, he could hardly go back without Aredhel's doll.
The halls and houses were thinning out, leaving him long stretches through which he could run quickly without waking the inhabitants. The cobblestones of the road seemed to fly away from under his feet. If he were not embarking on such a dangerous errand at such an inopportune hour, he would have enjoyed the run. After a final sprint, he was gazing up at the large gates of Fëanor's mansion. They were, of course, tightly locked. He pounded on them for a few minutes without success. No one opened the gates, and it seemed unlikely that any would. Tall and immovable, they stood still in the soft light, delicately unyielding decorations reflecting the light in much harder rays.
Fingolfin thought carefully. At this point, either he could return home and face his daughter's tiny but powerful wrath, or he could continue his efforts to enter the grounds and find the doll. It was not long before he was pulling himself over the low stone wall that surrounded his brother's property. After one last look around, he dropped over the other side.
Celegorm, Curufin, Amrod, and Amras were sitting by the small stream that ran through their father's grounds. Celegorm, naturally, was tousling Huan's ears as the twins tried to skip stones in the water. Curufin was watching the three of them with quiet amusement and carrying on a conversation with Celegorm. They were, in fact, discussing how long their father would force them to help him in the forges if they were caught outside after curfew. Celegorm was putting forth his opinion that Curufin would have to spend his time making horseshoes instead of his specialty, jewelry, and the others would have to shovel fuel for the two smiths. Celegorm was rather certain about this, since they had slipped out through the window multiple times, and had been caught on every occasion. He was beginning to wax eloquent on the amount of time this punishment would last when Celegorm clapped a hand over his mouth and unceremoniously dropped the twins onto Huan's back, giving the large hound a shove back in the direction from which they had come. "Intruder in the orchard, coming up from the left pear grove," he hissed, and all four elves sped away to the house.