I own nothing.
They had held off on having children for a long time. Minas Tirith was a fortress, high in the mountains. It was meant as a watchtower. It was no place to raise children.
Orodreth and Meresír held off from having a child for a long time. They told themselves that they were happy living together, governing the fortress of Minas Tirith. They said to themselves that they were happy enough without children for the time being, until Beleriand could truly be made a safe place in which to raise young children.
It was Finrod who provided them with an alternative solution. He had suggested, in a way that Orodreth knew that only someone truly longing for children themselves could manage, that if his brother and sister-in-law were to have children, he would be willing to bring them up in the halls of Nargothrond. "Nargothrond is far further away from Angband than is Minas Tirith," he pointed out. "Nargothrond is a safe place; the weather is fare and the lands lush and green. I would be happy to look after any children you might have."
He gave them something to think about, if nothing else. Gave them a reason to go ahead, after all.
Meresír wanted to name her Finduilas. She would not explain the reason as to why, would only say that the name seemed to fit their newborn daughter. "You can give her a Quenya name if you wish. I am not Thingol; I will not condemn you for wishing to name your own child. Obviously you will not be able to use it openly, but at least you would have something to call her as well."
Orodreth wasn't sure yet. Looking at her, he had the beginnings of an idea, based on memory, but wasn't quite sure whether or not to move forwards with it yet.
He… He had a daughter. Even when he held her, as he did now, Orodreth could barely process the idea. It seemed to him that, not long ago, he was a child and his family was celebrating Galadriel's birth. Not so long ago, he was a child himself, basking beneath the light of the Two Trees, not this dim, cold moonlight.
But now, he stood on the cold ramparts of a mountain fortress, holding his infant daughter in his arms.
It barely seemed real. Orodreth smiled down into the sleeping girl's face, drawing her closer into his arms. Finduilas had fair hair like his, though even at just a few days old, it was evident to Orodreth that the thin, fine hairs on her head were of a more vibrant shade than his. If anything, the color called back to Finrod and Finarfin.
Finarfin and Eärwen. Orodreth felt his heart sink in his chest, slowly, like a waterlogged leaf descending to the bottom of a pool. His parents had a granddaughter, and did not know. How could they know? There was a wide sea dividing them, across which no news could reach. Only the dead, once re-embodied, could bring tidings of Endóre to Aman. His child had grandparents, and would not know them. She would not know her grandfather, nor her grandmother, nor any of her other kin who had stayed behind in darkened Aman.
You know this pale, silver light, Finduilas. Ithil's light. Moonlight. You know Anor's light as well, sunlight. But you have never known Treelight. You make moonlight and sunlight both seem even dimmer and grayer than they were before. Too dim and gray for you, my bright, beautiful child.
In the next few months came many tidings. Congratulations from Fingolfin, from Orodreth's brothers and his cousins, from Thingol and Círdan—though nothing from Meresír's kin, and given the circumstances, Orodreth had not been expecting much. Gifts for the child. Galadriel and Lúthien journeyed all the way to Minas Tirith from Doriath to see her; Orodreth was astonished that Thingol had allowed his daughter out of Doriath at all. The birth of a child to the lords of the Noldor seemed to have become quite the event now, when in years past, under the light of the Trees, it had been commonplace. It only reminded Orodreth that Finduilas had few peers and contemporaries.
Ultimately, Orodreth and Meresír took Finrod up on his offer. Minas Tirith was no place for a child, all hard stone and sharp edges. Finrod came, and took Finduilas back to Nargothrond with him. It was the best place for her, the best possible place for her. Finrod would look after her as though she was his own child; Orodreth knew that much of his eldest brother. And they would be able to visit, certainly. Not frequently, but they would at least know their child. Finduilas was of royal blood; it was only appropriate that she should know the world, that she should grow to adulthood in the court of a King.
And when Minas Tirith was bathed in moonlight, Orodreth remembered, and felt empty at the absence of his only daughter.
Endóre—Middle-Earth (Quenya)
Ithil—the Sindarin name for the Moon
Anor—the Sindarin name for the Sun