I went hunting many times after that with Findárato, whenever we strayed close to Tirion. Sometimes his brothers accompanied us, and when they did, we endured each other's presence, for Findárato's sake, at least on my part. He taught me many things, about tracking, how to spin a horse around in place, and some of the languages of the beasts (Tyelkormo knew them all, but he did not care to teach me; I do not know if he taught the others). Those were happy days, though I missed Írissë's company. I saw her sometimes, and she would sometimes smile at me, but she never approached me. I kept my distance.

We continued roaming about Aman, discovering all the secrets of the land, all the hidden corners, and all the strange beasts which dwelled there. I did not care for any of it. The darkness of the far lands hurt my head, and I missed Ammë.

Yes, the darkness hurt. They didn't understand, couldn't understand that Dark Finwë did not love the dark.

"Atar, the Feast of Kementári is nearly upon us," I heard Tyelko say to Atar as we rested by the Outer Sea, as we were wont to do. "Will we not tarry longer by Tirion next time so we may attend?" His eyes gleamed in a way I did not like, and I looked away, watching the Ambarussa play in the ocean, and pretended not to listen. But I remembered the Feast of Kementári, a celebration that came once every fifty years. Tables heaped with food of all kinds, the glorious bounty of all of Valinor, which never tasted better. Flowers and songs (Maka always graced us with something he wrote), and dances lasting all night. I dug my toes violently into the sand. I used to dance with Írissë; how long ago it felt.

I heard Atar growl. "You may attend if you wish, but I have no use for feasts."

He did not have much use for anything lately, I thought. When we were not riding through the forests or by the coast, he would sit by himself in his tent, doing things. I did not know what; Atar would only allow Curufinwë to enter, and my brother would not answer me when I asked him about it.

I didn't bother myself too much about it. Atar gave us leave to attend the Feast, and I could not help feeling excited.

It would also be the twins' first time going, and their excitement added to mine.

"Will there be many maidens, Moryo?" Pityo asked me. Having not been around females for so long, and now just starting to become interested in them, he was constantly asking me questions about them, as if I were an expert. Telvo, on the other hand, remained indifferent.

I sighed. "Oh yes. Many. They will have flowers braided into their hair. They will dance without shoes, and one fair maid of the Vanyar will catch your eye, Pityo, and you will dance with her all night, and come morning, you will ask her father if you may have her hand, and we will be celebrating your wedding that next night."

Pitya's eyes widened, and he looked at Telvo, who was stringing his bow. "Did you hear that, Ambarussa? I will marry one of the Vanyar." I rolled my eyes.

Maitimo came up at that moment and ruffled Pityo's hair. "Don't you know by now not to believe everything Moryo says?"

I scoffed. He spoke as if I teased them often.

He gave me a crooked smile. "But what of you, Carnistir? Is there some Vanyarin lady for you?"

I glared at him as the color rushed into my cheeks. He sighed. "Get over it. I want you to do something, for me."

I leaned back into the sand. "What?"

"At the Feast, I am going to find you a lady, and you will dance with her." After a moment, he added, "It is for you, too, obviously."

I sat up. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why must I dance with her?"

"Írissë still causes you grief, brother. I am trying to liberate you. Trust me."

I groaned. "Stay out of my affairs, Maitimo."

He shrugged and turned away. "Or just mope by the food and get fat."

Pityo giggled.

I glared at him.


"Are you attending the Feast of Kementári, Findárato?" I asked him the next time we went hunting, alone, and only a week before the Feast.

"Of course. It is one of my favorite celebrations." He grinned at me. "Do you recall that one Feast when Turukáno came in late, right as Uncle Ñolofinwë was announcing his family?"

Turukáno, usually so dignified, with his face bright red, his clothes rumpled, his dark brown curls flying every which way, and his eyes round with embarrassment. I laughed much harder than I should have, earning a pointed frown from Ammë, and a wink from Atar, one of the few times he seemed pleased with me, though now it seemed trite that he should be pleased with me for laughing at my cousin.

Still, I smiled at the memory.

"Is there a maiden you love?" I asked without thinking.

"Not yet."

Though every maiden in Valinor would coming running if he called, I thought, a little bitterly.

He cocked his head to the side. "What about you, Carnistir?"

I did not answer.

After a moment, he said, "Forgive me. I forgot." His voice was a whisper, gentle.

Unbidden, tears came into my eyes. I recalled Maitimo's request. I brushed away the tears and shook my head. "No. I will find another maiden at the Feast."

Findárato laughed, still gentle. "Is it that simple?"

"Perhaps not. But it is how Findekáno met Vamarië."

"True."


The night before the Feast, I awoke to a sudden chill which overcame the house. I wondered at this, as the house never got cold, not as long as I could remember. I wandered into the forge, knowing Atar and Curufinwë never put out the fire. I noticed some scattered pages on one of the worktables, and I absently glanced at them.

I saw careful sketches for some sort of jewel. Atar loved making jewels. My favorites were the palantíri. These ones appeared to be somewhat more ambitious. A little scrawl in the upper right corner of one of the pages caught my eye. Bringing it close to the smoldering forge, I made out the letters which spelled:

Silmaril.


Uh-oh.

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Much love,

Unicadia

Last edited: 5/17/18