A/N: Here we gooo. I know a lot of you read specifically because you enjoy the Eve/Finno stuff, but this story requires a much larger focus across all the members of the House of Finwe. After all, it's important to see how we get from paradise in ADKoH to hell in A Different Kind of Hell, next 'book'. A couple reviews I didn't get a chance to reply to:
Broken ingot - Yes, it was one of the last "good times". However an overarching theme of this trilogy is going to be how despite horrific tragedy, belief in each other and love (familial, platonic, romantic) can still thrive. So there will always be happy chapters.
ColdOnePaul - The Star Trek references are not an accident. They are going to continue throughout this story and, primarily, the third. I have one specific scene in mind towards the end of the third story where the use of these Star Trek references will hopefully become clear. And yes, DS9 and Voyager have always been my favorite and Janeway was the first real "Strong Female Character" example I came across in media. I watched Voyager reruns as a ten year old and saw how strong Janeway and B'Elanna and Seven were/are, and latched onto that. Eve being a bit of a Trekkie actually was inspired by that and a tag on Ao3 I found for a modern Silmarillion AU which had #FingonIsATrekkie. For some reason that worked really well and I saw a way to incorporate it here, and again, there will be key scenes were parallels and references will be made throughout to Star Trek, particularly Voyager.
Daughterofthechief - I also am a "feanorian apologist". I do not excuse their actions, but I find them very realistic given their circumstances. I hate how many people just call Feanor a villian (don't get me wrong, he commits evil deeds) and call him overcome by greed. When you read the text of the Silmarillion: "Then Feanor rose, and lifting up his hand before Manwe he curse Melkor, naming him Morgoth, the Black Foe of the World; and by that name only was he known to the Eldar ever after. And he cursed also the summons of Manwe and the hour in which he came to Taniquetil, thinking in the madness of his rage and grief that had he been at Formenos his strength would have availed more than to be slain also, as Melkor had purposed. Then Feanor ran from the Ring of Doom, and he fled into the night; for his father was dearer to him than the Light of Valinor or the peerless works of his hands; and who among sons, of Elves or of Men, have held their fathers of greater worth." When you read this text, its clear to me at least that A) he is acting from madness and B) he is overcome by grief primarily for the death of his father, not the theft of the jewels. But when it becomes clear that his father is not coming back, he latches onto the Silmarils as a way to reclaim something of his father and his life, and as a way to achieve revenge. And The Valar refusing to aid in their assault on Morgoth prior to the kinslaying infuriates me. The Valar in general infuriate me. So yes, I am a Feanorian sympathizer.
Without further ado, and after that wonderfully long rant, I present Chapter Eleven.
Chapter Eleven
The Other House
1450
Years of the Trees
It had been a long time since all the children of Nolofinwë had gone on a trip together. This time they went to their parents' summer home in the middle of Yavanna's plains. Irissë insisted they all go. And this time, she invited Artanis along as well.
The two women chatted on horseback as they approached the home. Behind them, the three brothers laughed lightly, Aro teasing Finno about something from atop his massive black mare. As the company approached the large cottage, they dismounted together.
"Stable the horses and then come inside," ordered Irissë as she finished doing it for her own grey horse. "I have a surprise for you all."
Aro finished first and with youthful exuberance jogged into the house. He had to bend slightly to not hit the door frame, but it didn't deter him. Irisse shook her head in amusement from where she stood insidel. She directed him to his bedroom.
The first thing he saw was a note on the dresser across from his bed. He picked it up. It had been written by Irissë, her clear scrolling Tengwar easily recognizable.
"Aro-
I have a gift for you. Do you remember when you were first born, how I would tell you stories of the early days of the world. Mother and father taught them first to me, and then I to you. Stories of Valaraukar and flaming beasts, of the great victory of Eönwë on the fields of the Eastern Lands. We learned stories of Oromë and his great Hunt of the Orcs.
What story had always fascinated you most? I think it was Eönwë's final stand against Melkor himself before Oromë and Tulkas rescued him. And do you remember what he wielded? Not a bow, nor a spear.
But a sword.
With love,
Iri"
Aro turned around, looking for whatever she had meant to give him. At last his gaze landed on his bed. Something sat wrapped in a silk cloth. The gift seemed at least three feet long, perhaps more. He gently unwrapped it.
A sword.
He marveled at it. The hilt and blade were crafted of a steel compound, and in the center of his crossguard, a teal and purple fluorite stone offered even more glittering glory. The blade had not been sharpened.
Carrying it carefully back into the massive main room, he found Irissë grinning. Her white dress had been replaced by a white riding outfit: pants and a long-sleeved shirt, with a skirt wrapping around the back but split up the middle. In her hand she held her own sword. It contained a purple and white tourmaline stone.
Finno came striding in. "Iri, where-"
"Hrávien," she replied immediately with a grin. "The Hunters decided to create them, and Hrávien shared the idea with me. I figured I would share it with you, and had these crafted by the Hunters' personal smith, Rusco's brother."
The eldest sibling held up his steel sword, marveling at his reflection in the steel blade. A small smile formed across his face. He felt the iridescent opaline moonstone crossguard gem carefully. "Magnificent."
Turvo and Artanis joined them as well. The former looked hesitant, holding his sword carefully and looking closely at the lapis lazuli accent piece. But then he glanced over at the others and saw their eagerness.
Artanis' eyes narrowed in excitement. Her sword had been crafted of steel also, with a honey-golden amber stone at the center. She smiled at Irisse, glad the woman had not forgotten her. She enjoyed sport as much as the next man.
"Well, shall I show you how to use it?" asked Irissë expectantly.
Finno nodded immediately. "Yes!"
They went out into the fields around their summer home. Aro and Finno immediately paired up, so Turvo and Artanis joined together as well. Iri brought her sword up and began to demonstrate proper positioning as Hrávien had shown her. They copied.
Laurelin's golden light filled the area with warmth. Within a few hours they decided to call it quits for the time being. Finno got himself a wooden cup full of water and lounged in a rocking chair behind the house that faced a large lake. He wondered what Eve was up to.
As he sat ruminating, Turvo came outside to join him. The summer air had a slow, gentle breeze that blew the nearby trees of Oromë's forest. The lake they faced sat half encased by the woods, and half in the open fields. His younger brother stood beside him, sipping a glass of white wine.
"Thinking of Eve?" Turvo asked after a few quiet moments.
Finno flashed a small smile. "How did you know?"
"Because I am thinking of Elenwë," he revealed, turning to face his older brother. After a nod, he sat down beside Finno. "And you always play with the end of your braid when you're deep in thought."
"Is that so?" he chuckled. "Well then, I suppose I'll have to stop doing that. Can't have you guessing my thoughts all the time."
Turvo sighed. With his wine glass he gestured to the lake and the forest. "I can tell you want to go out there."
Finno rolled his eyes. "More twirling of my hair?"
But his brother just laughed at him. "No. Experience. Every time we come to this place you go do something rash and stupid."
"Like what," scoffed Finno.
"Like that time you pushed Iri into the lake to teach her to swim," said Turvo immediately. "Or the time you decided to go hunting but forgot your bow until you were three hours into the forest. I seem to recall that father had to do it that night, but then, I was little. Maybe I'm wrong. We could always ask mother-"
"Point taken," he grumbled.
Turvo smiled. "Please, by all means, go do something rash and stupid. It's always very entertaining."
After a brief moment of tense silence, they both laughed lightly and shook their heads, watching the sky begin bathing in silver light at the absence of gold. The lake reflected Varda's stars like a mirror.
"If we have swords, Turvo, it might be interesting to see armor like Eönwë used to wear," Finno began hesitantly. "Can you imagine the wonder we would inspire with suits of armor? Grand capes and shields with our houses emblazoned upon them?" Finno grinned.
Turvo sighed. "Finno-"
"House sigils, Turvo!" He gestured to his own blue and gold and black riding gear. "Not just colors, but the actual house crests."
"I don't know."
"Are you not proud of your house," countered Finno instantly, standing and striding forward a few feet. Then he turned back to his brothers. "Are you not proud to be a Noldo?"
Turvo glared at him. "Of course I am proud, Findekáno. You are not alone in your love of our house."
"Then what is wrong?"
He shook his head in concern. "We do not know who else holds these swords. What if the sons of Fëanáro-"
Finno groaned. "Turvo! Do not tell me you believe all the rumors? That they are planning to overthrow King Finwë and subjugate our house?"
With a glare, Turvo shook his head. "No. Fëanáro loves his father too much to take power that way."
"That way?"
"I just suggest we tread carefully. Keep our knowledge hidden. There is no reason to go brandishing weapons and sigils and armor around Tirion while tensions mount." He sighed. "Perhaps someday something will repair the hurt that seems to keep growing between the elder and younger houses. But that hasn't happened yet."
Finno frowned. He turned from his ever-wise younger brother and looked out over the lake again. By now the light of Laurelin had faded completely, giving full dominion to Telperion over the night sky. Hesitation caused him to refrain from replying.
The sound of a the door to the house caused both men to turn. Their younger brother came out with a small smile and his own glass of wine. "You two left me with the women. How dare you."
"Take a seat," Turvo offered quickly with a smile.
Aro nodded and pulled over a third rocking chair. He put it beside Finno's own and sat down. The eldest still stood staring out over the water and towards the forest. Finally, having made up his mind, he turned back. "Very well, Turvo. I'll defer to you for now. We'll keep the weapons secret, and not display our colors quite yet. But perhaps not forever, as you said."
"And Eve?"
Finno paused. He looked at Turvo sadly. "I do not wish to divide her loyalties, which is a possibility since it is likely the sons of Feanaro know about weapons too. For Tyelko is a Hunter, and I find it unlikely he has the patience nor desire to keep the swords to himself. For now I will keep her in the dark with these."
Turvo nodded. "I shall do the same with Elenwë."
"But we do not need to hide these from each other," Aro argued. "Not those of us who know now. And it is likely Artanis will teach her own siblings."
"If she does so, I will tell Findo what we decided here," Turvo said immediately. "He'll listen to me."
"Even against his better judgement?" asked Finno.
Turvo shrugged. "I believe so."
They fell quiet again. Finno sat down in the chair, between his two younger brothers. They watched a great flock of birds dance in a multitude of shapes in the sky before returning to roost in their trees. Lightning bugs glittered around them and soon Aro left to rest inside.
Finno closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, taking in the smells of the summer night. There were wildflowers nearby, and their sweet nectar wafted through the air on the wind. He could hear the gentle lapping of the tiny waves on the lake shore. And Turvo's quiet breathing beside him added yet another layer.
Part of him wanted to say something, but he couldn't bring himself to break the subtle summer ambience. Peace reigned here. Far be it from he to break that peace. So instead he stayed quiet, thinking about Eve and wondering how her maidens' trip with Elenwë and Amarië was going.
His thoughts drifted also to Nelyo. The two of them had been growing further and further apart since a few years after Finno and Eve's betrothal years ago. They weren't on poor terms. They just always seemed to find time for other things as opposed to each other.
Finno knew that Turvo, in his heart, missed the companionship he used to share with Nelyo and Káno. It had never been as strong as Nelyo and Finno, but it had been present. Now most of the House of Fëanáro avoided all but Finno like the plague, even the Ambarussa. He thought that to be the most grievous of all the estrangements. It took Finno effort to remind himself that the twins, while still relatively young, were by no means children. He still remembered them as such.
Though he understood his brother's hesitance to display their house emblems, Finno thought it could be used to unify them. All the children of Finwë had heraldry that recalled their father Finwë's. If they could just remember that each of them remained loyal to the other.
But he also knew Fëanáro would never agree to associate with the younger houses. He glared over the lake at the trees, thinking of the other lord. No, Fëanáro could only see bitterness and jealousy where Nolofinwë and Arafinwë were involved, and outright refused to associate at all with Findis or Irímë.
Finally his anger got the better of his patience. "Have you heard the rumors that are being spread against us," he muttered fiercely. "The ones claiming that we are attempting to drive Lady Nerdanel away? And that we are planning to take over the kingship?" He gripped the rocking chair's arms. "Disgraceful."
Turvo nodded. "I have heard them. I am hardly surprised."
"Why?"
He shrugged in response, rocking back and forth a bit as the crickets chirped in the silence. Then he continued after some thought. "The House of Fëanáro, and all those that follow him… they have always seen the marriage of Indis and Finwë as a usurpation of Fëanáro. And they dislike having a Vanya on the throne. It is natural that they would use words, their only weapon, or at least only public weapon, to debase us."
"I suppose," mumbled Finno in response. He twirled the bottom of his braid absentmindedly. Finally he stood. "I'm going swimming."
Turvo stared at him. "Now?"
"Yes."
The younger of two shook his head and rolled his eyes. "This is what I meant by rash action. You haven't actually rested in days, Findekáno."
"Oh please, brother. Do not 'Findekáno' me." Finno took off his cloak and laid it on the chair. "Go get some rest, if you are so tired Turvo."
He nodded. "I will." Bidding his brother goodnight, he got up and went inside. As he walked through the door to find a fire blazing in the main room, he went instead to the bottles of wine and poured himself another glass. He was surprised to find Aro still sitting by himself in the main room near the fire. "What are you doing up, Aro? I'm sure you're tired. We barely rested while coming here."
The other elf shrugged. "I find it difficult to rest these days. Between the trouble with the house of Fëanáro, and my own doubts as to what to do with these weapons, tonight I've been preoccupied with my thoughts."
Turvo nodded, sitting across from him. "Perhaps you should get away from the city of Tirion more often?" Then he paused and chuckled. "Unless you're still interested in that maiden from the court, the musician? What was her name?"
"Marillië," replied Aro with a blush. "She's a flutist."
Turvo smiled. "She's the one with the short hair, correct? But to her shoulders, in dark brown."
"Yes."
With a quiet chuckle, he stood from his seat and laid a hand on Aro's shoulder as he walked past. "Don't let Finno know." He went to his bedroom and laid down. His shoulders sagged in exhaustion and he let the bed melt beneath his body.
