Wild Child- The Family Jewel

by SiofraMarina

The daughter of Celegorm and Aredhel and the son of a certain Gondolin Lord grow up in Oromë's woods oblivious to their true heritage. A tournament in Tirion reveals hidden truths, secrets and long lost relatives. The two are thrown head-first into the fight against Morgoth and the family drama continues. Can they save their loved ones from oaths, betrayal and dark tragic fates?

13. Rumours and Ghosts

Another Long Chapter...Have Fun!

Halls of Mandos, First Age 505...

'This needs to stop. How can her fëa ever heal if she constantly stares at those tapestries?! She needs to accept there is nothing she can do to help him anymore! It is hard, it took me years. But this is madness Finno, surely you can see it. You are in better shape than her, and you arrived years later!'

Arakáno looked down at his eldest brother pleadingly, and Findékáno was somehow reminded of the days his baby brother was looking up to him, begging for his help with something or other.

'I know.' He sighed. 'But you need to be more patient with her hanno. It is not easy to let go and accept that you are dead. It is frustrating watching your loved ones make mistakes that may prove fatal. You know this, but you did not leave a son behind.'

Arakáno lost his cool. 'No, but I was ALONE here for YEARS! And I watched you, Atar, Írissë, ALL die! What is more, I had to watch that BASTARD, MONSTER, PSYCHOPATH ruin our sister until she was naught but a shell! Finno, I would go as far as to compare it to the torment Maitimo suffered. I cannot be patient with this matter hanno! I need her to heal. She needs to recover! I want the old Írissë back.'

Findékáno's eyes narrowed at what Arakáno had just divulged regarding exactly what Ëol had done to their sister. Pain and fury raged through whatever one could call his current existence.

He knew Írissë had suffered greatly, knew she was imprisoned, beaten and... -he felt the urge to retch despite his form-... raped. He knew she had been changed. But when he arrived in the Halls, Arakáno (be it due to Finno's delicate condition, or the pain the information caused Arakáno himself),only glossed over the details. And now to think...to think his sister had suffered that much...

Arakáno had seen Russandol's torture on the tapestries, he even knew more of it than Findékáno did himself. For Findékáno had seen Nelyo in pain long enough, in the days of his recovery, and thus avoided those tapestries. And back when he was alive, Findékáno had focused more on the mental well being and physical healing of his dearest cousin, rather than demanding accounts of what had happened. Maitimo would have told him if he had wished to, and, as it turned out, he had not.

Another stab of pain hit Findékáno. He had witnessed through the tapestries the effect his own death had on Maedhros. His mental state, so carefully glued back together after Thangorodrim, had all but shattered again into a million pieces.

Fingon took a deep breath. There was and is nothing I can do for Nelyo... But now I can do my best for Írissë...

'You are right little brother, trauma is expected after one faces what she faced, but she should have made much more progress in her recovery than this! It scares me how much she has changed. The Írissë we knew would never wallow in regret and sorrow .'

Arakáno's ghostly eyes went distant. 'You...you didn't see her when she first arrived. I...I didn't recognise her Finno. I knew from the tapestries she was here, and I was looking for her. I passed by her a hundred times, and I didn't know it was her. I didn't know my own sister Finno! She was alone for hours, days- I don't know. The fight, the pride, the strength of will and body, the determination, Ai Valar even that awful stubbornness! It was not there Finno!.. He. .he took it all away...'

Finno closed his ghostly eyes. Of all people...why Írissë?...Why did it have to be Írissë?

Findékáno wanted to bash Ëol's fëa to bits before slamming it into the Void... he deserved ten times worse. Unfortunately, Námo's Maia felt the need to imprison/protect Ëol in a private cell, Arákano had tried and failed and faced punishment countless times for attempting to force his way in before Findékáno died.

And after the two of them combined had tried twice that amount, to no avail. All souls were protected in these Halls, even the wicked.

It was not fair...True, none of his doomed family were innocent by any means, but at least their actions did not match that of Melkor and his Maia.

He felt Arakáno reach out with his fëa, gently brushing against his own, somewhat the equivalent of an embrace. Fingon leaned in, accepting his brother's comfort. Arakáno had taken Finno's old role in these Halls, mothering them all the way an older brother did, even mothering their Atar.

As if feeling guilty for Finno's change of mood, Arakáno brightened a little. 'Well, I think her absolute refusal to listen to us and adamancy to not so much as move a yard from those tapestries is proof enough that said stubbornness has returned.'

Findékáno shook his head wryly, the tragedy of it all momentarily becoming comedy.

Suddenly, an enraged and maddened yell dragged them from their conversation.

'YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT TURUKÁNO! THAT IS NOT WHAT HE NEEDS! AI VALAR WHY CAN NO ONE UNDERSTAND! HE IS LONELY! TYPICAL SMALL MINDED COURT OF IDIOTS! JUST BECAUSE HE IS DIFFERENT THEY TREAT HIM LIKE A CRIMINAL! HYPOCRATES! HALF OF THEM ARE KINSLAYERS AND THEY DARE LOOK AT INNOCENT BOY AS THOUGH HE IS INFERIOR TO THEM! HE DID NOT CHOOSE WHO HIS FATHER WAS!'

Írissë's brothers were by her side in an instant, desperately trying to calm her down from her near insane rant.

As Arakáno reached out with his fëa, sending soothing waves of calm, Findékáno glanced at the latest tapestry of Gondolin, which had caused his sister's outburst. Nothing too out of the ordinary appeared to be happening, Turukáno had just ordered Lómion to take a months holiday from his duties after... oh...

...After yet another passionate verbal attack on Itarillë's husband.

Findékáno knew he should not contradict his dear sister, she was not herself. But, he could not help the thought that crossed his mind- ...True, Lómion does not deserve the mistrust and prejudice...however he is far from innocent... he is jealous...

Unfortunately for Findékáno, Írissë happened to hear his monologue. He found himself pinned against a tapestry.

'YOU ARE BEING FOOLED BY HIS ANTICS JUST AS MUCH AS THOSE OTHER FOOLS! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! ITARILLË WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO SHOWED HIM TRUE KINDNESS AND EMPATHY. TURGON TRIED, BUT HE WAS NEVER EMOTIONALLY COMPETENT. THEN SOME MAN SHOWS UP AND IT IS TRUE LOVE AND NEXT THING ITARILLË'S MARRIED AND HAS A CHILD AND SUDDENLY LÓMION HAS NO ONE! OF COURSE HE IS GOING TO TAKE HIS ANGER OUT ON THE MAN! HE IS STILL SO YOUNG...HE DOES NOT KNOW ANY DIFFERENT. I...I...WHY DID I LEAVE HIM?! HE NEEDS ME!'

'Írissë...' Findékáno gasped, staring into her mad, deranged, ghostly eyes '...please ...let go of me...'

'Peace Nésa' Arakáno came between the two, gently. 'You did not choose to leave him Írissë, it was not your fault. You saved your son.'

And then Írissë was on the floor, shaking like a leaf, remembering who killed her, remembering all said murderer had done to her before that.

'Írissë!...ÍRISSË! LOOK AT ME! ÍRISSË.' Findékáno shook his sister from the past, doing all in his power to heal her. He had done it before for Russandol...why wasn't it working for his sister...?

Because she needs someone who will never come back... someone who knew and understood her inside out... Findékáno closed his eyes and sighed ...she needs Tyelkormo...

Findékáno, on entering the Halls, was hit with a truth which, on hindsight, he really ought to have seen coming. He had held little love for Tyelkormo, or rather, never was really close to him. However, on seeing the tapestries it was clear his cousin had loved Írissë dearly, and made her happy and that, Finno supposed, was all that mattered.

And then of course, there was the niece he never knew existed...

Findékáno could not help but feel disappointed for missing out on the childhood of the one-of-a-kind, Siofra Aranya. He had loved playing the role of doting uncle and spoiling Itarillë rotten. Then again, what right did he have to feel disappointed? Aranya's own parents has missed most of her childhood.

A large part of Fingon's own recovery involved watching the crazy, carefree and humorous life of Aranya in the woods, the mischief she caused, and the relentless teasing between herself and her otorno.

Perhaps I can use this technique to help Írissë recover...?

'Írissë...?' He said her name more gently this time. 'Look over there...!' He pointed to the latest tapestry from Tirion '...It's Aranya...'

Írissë's head shot up '...she is following in your footsteps, competing in the Aráto Games! She was the first to complete the First Trial. The apple doesn't fall far!'

'Aranya... my dear, little, sweet Aranya...' Írissë whispered, voice cracking before she suddenly sobbed 'BABY!'

She ran over to Aranya's tapestry, finally leaving Gondolin after... days?...Months? Years?... Findékáno was not sure. Time was tricky to measure here.

'She has grown up... she is beautiful...' Írissë stroked her daughter's face on the cloth, as gentle as one stroking a sleeping baby's cheek.

Findékáno felt Arakáno's glare on him. He raised an eyebrow, wondering what was the matter. It will have the opposite effect to what you wish, hanno... was all his younger brother gave away.

Sure enough, Írissë was soon screaming again, full of self loathing.

'WHY DID WE LEAVE HER?! WE LEFT HER ALONE, FOR WHAT?! LOOK AT ME, A PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A MOTHER! LEFT BOTH MY CHILDREN ALONE IN THE WORLD!'

Findékáno had to think fast to fix this mess.

'Írissë LOOK! She is not alone! See, all her friends, all the hunters! See Oromë and Vána! See her otorno! They all love and adore her!'

Findékáno pointed to a tapestry depicting the fierce embrace of otorno and osellë, after the First Trial. Írissë eyed it curiously, as if suspecting something horrible to happen in the scene. But nothing did, all that emanated from the cloth was joy, camaraderie, sweet victory.

'He... he does seem nice...' Írissë whispered, commenting on her daughter's otorno.

'He does' smiled Findékáno 'He will always look out for her.'

Írissë studied the otono's face again 'The... the boy in the woods... and his Ammë... and... and the kissing. '

Suddenly she was hysterically laughing, which in a way was even more worrying.

'What is so funny Nésa?' Arakáno tried to have her explain, if only to ease his concern.

Írissë looked at them half amused, half depressed beyond measure. 'In another life, in another rendition of Eru's song, if Ammë had her way... those two might have been brother and sister by blood.'

'I... see.' Findékáno did not comprehend her in the slightest.

Írissë's eyes were sorrowful, distant in memory. 'She was the only 'right' thing I ever did. So purely good natured and happy and free. Tyelko and I did not deserve her. No wonder fate separated us.'

Years of practicing politics under Neylo's guidance meant Findékáno knew an opportunity when he saw one...

'But Írissë ' he began once again. 'You will see her again. It is only a matter of time. You will be released someday, nésa. But in order to be released, you must forgive yourself, recover, let go of those you left behind.'

Írissë shook her head 'I do not deserve to be released... I don't, I am a bad, worthless person...I...-'

'YOU ARE LETTING THE FILTH THAT SPAWN OF MORGOTH TOLD YOU CORRUPT YOUR MIND ÍRISSË! ËOL...-YES I SAID HIS NAME NÉSA!...- ËOL CONTROLLED YOU LONG ENOUGH, DO NOT LET HIS LIES IMPRISON YOU NOW! YOU ARE FREE SISTER, FREE AS YOU EVER WERE!' Arakáno's impatience yet again got the better of him.

Before Findékáno could scold Arakáno for his insensitive outburst, who bet him to it but Írissë.

The old Írissë.

'I MAY BE INSANE LITTLE HANNO, BUT DO NOT BELIEVE FOR A SECOND I EVER LISTENED TO HIM. AND NEVER SO MUCH AS DARE TO MENTION THAT NAME IN MY PRESENCE EVER AGAIN!'

The words were said with such ferocity that Írissë's brothers were afraid to so much as move. She ordered Arakáno as though she were a Queen, restoring her aura of royalty that was always there , despite her wildness. Her arms were crossed, back straight, subconscious regal bearing, scowling and glaring the way their Ammë did.

She continued 'AND FORGIVE ME IF I DESPAIR, BUT, MY SON IS LIVING IN FEAR AND LOATHING IN A WORLD WHERE NO ONE UNDERSTANDS HIM! MY DAUGHTER DOES NOT EVEN KNOW MY NAME, NOR HER FATHER'S AND GREW UP WITHOUT US! AND, THANKS TO AN OATH BASED ON PURE AND UTTER RECKLESS STUPIDTY, CHANCES ARE THAT NEVER AGAIN WILL I SEE MELDO, MY OTORNO AND BEST FRIEND! She snapped, before storming away, out of Vairë's tapestries, leaving the two neri speechless.

'Well...' began Findékáno after a moment. '...that was one way of getting her away from the tapestries.'

Arakáno said nothing, but the beam on his face did not need explaining.

Finally he opened his mouth.

'She's back.'

Findékáno knew Írissë had a long way to go. He knew she was far, far from healed. He knew she needed to forgive herself. He knew, despite her harsh assurances, that Ëol still affected her.

He knew she would never truly heal without Tyelkormo.

But she may just heal enough to get herself out of this accursed place...

It will be a long road...

But to the Void with me if I did not just witness the fire of fëa that is Írissë...

'Yes, hanno' Findékáno finally responded. 'I believe our sister is indeed back.'

sSSsssSsSsSsSssSs

Tirion, First Age 505...

Lindë, physically and mentally rested and recovered after the eventful trial, made her way to the training ground of the Warriors.

The camp was luxurious, considering it was a camp, but she had to admit the bed in her tent did not match the comfort of her bed in the House of Tulkas. She also found her private tent a little too small.

She did not like Tirion much. It was stuffy. She longed for the sea breeze, for a swim in the cool water. To lay back and admire the gems adorning the shore and glistening through the waves.

She missed home.

She wished there was a pool, or a lake (or better yet, a sea) near the camp. Swimming cleared her head. Bathing in the baths provided was not quite as effective.

So instead she was going to practice her swordplay. It would be a very productive thing to do, she supposed, getting both practice and peace done at once.

Her fellow warriors were scattered around. Some off exploring the city, some cleaning and shining their armour, some relaxing and whittling their weapons and some...- she rolled her eyes-... gossiping.

Lindë never had much patience for idle chat and speculation over so much as the tiniest fact or action of another person. Not only did she find it unfair and not particularly kind, it was also downright boring.

She did not like to even think of... of Fëanáro, but she could not help remembering the Noldo Princes' famous words...

'Great minds talk about ideas. Average minds talk about events. Small minds talk about people.'

'Small minded indeed.' She whispered to herself as she passed a group of particularly 'stuck up' warriors. Most of them from wealthy, powerful families, always strutting around with an air of superiority to everyone else.

Lindë had decided she did not like this particular clique the very first day she arrived to begin her training. It was not a year since the infamous, tragic attack on her home, and Lindë herself was still half traumatised. And yet, this clique had the nerve to whisper tall tales of her losses, offer fake, sympathetic and pitying smiles when she was looking, stating ridiculous reasons the Teleri would never be great fighters the moment her back was turned.

She proved them wrong, as she trained harder and got stronger and stronger each day, until she had bested all of them.

This however only led to their jealousy, resulting in even more rumours.

Lindë did not take the bait and lash out. She was above that, and them. And it was not as if they were singling her out, Valar no. Almost every warrior was scrutinised, their flaws closely read and discussed.

Hoping to avoid so much as a glance from the gossip group, Lindë kept her head down and picked up her walking pace, almost at the edge of the grounds... almo-...

'LINDË!' A voice shouted from the very group she wished to completely avoid.

Cringing, rolling her eyes and sighing all at the same time, Lindë turned around, struggling, but just about managing, to pull out a fake smile. 'Yes, Sanda?' She answered.

With the most insincere laugh and wave, the ner replied 'Come here a moment!'

'I would, Sanda, but I am going to practice.'

'Oh Lindë!' a tall and fair Vanya named Alma shook her head and laughed, as false as Sanda had been. 'It will only be for a moment! Come now, we are not like the swans of your home, we do not bite!'

Lindë wanted to reply 'Yes and Lion's Mane jellyfish do not bite either, though I would never like to go near one!' but by the grace of the Valar she held her tongue.

She did not miss the slight dig at Alqualondë. Lindë felt the urge to punch the smug nís in the face.

You probably spent the last hour coming up with that one, so, so clever of you she sarcastically muttered to herself.

Nevertheless, she made her way over to the clique. I wonder what they want from me...?

'Congratulations Lindë on finishing first. None of us were expecting that!' Kalima, an athletic Noldo nís, exclaimed, carefully cut words meaning anything but phrase.

Lindë knew how to play along.

'Why thank you Kalima. And hard luck to you! I guess the maze just did not suit your capabilities!'

Fínëa, another ner, attempted to conceal Kalima's obvious rage with another stupid laugh. 'Well, if the trial had been fair, then my nésa here would have gotten through. She was the closest to the platform when that Avarin cheater pulled that fast one.'

'Cheater?' questioned Lindë. She knew if Siofra were here, her hyperactive partner would not be able to restrain herself from starting a brawl. Lindë knew the 'cheater' in question was Siofra's otorno, and the bruises on Lindës hand from her partner's frantic worrying were proof enough of how close the two were.

'Well obviously he cheated!' responded Sanda, almost angrily. 'What else would you call someone controlling nature itself in that manner!'

Lindë could not restrain her smart-arse reply this time.

'Ahh perhaps you would call it using ones heritage to their advantage? You know, like how us Teleri excel in water, or how the Noldor use their creative mindset and knowledge help them? I would call it using the talents given-...'

'No no, what he did was unnatural.' Alma could not stop herself. 'He is bound to be disqualified any time today.'

'Mmmm' was all Lindë managed to utter, all while sarcastically thinking, Oh yes, he will most certainly be disqualified, especially after that standing ovation from the Valar themselves! Disqualified MY ASS! YOU AIRHEAD!

Fínëa cleared his throat. 'Anyways Lindë, we wanted to ask you something.'

'Fire away.' Lindë answered. I will go out of my way to do the complete opposite of what you ask.

The group seemed to subconsciously huddle over, a few checking over their shoulders before Kalima finally asked 'Your partner, yesterday. Did you notice anything familiar about her?'

Familiar?...Yes, she was so 'familiar' I broke down... twice.

'No.' she answered affirmatively. 'Why do you ask?'

'Well...' Sanda checked over his shoulder again, as if anyone cared what he and his friends were discussing. 'We have it on good grounds to believe that...' he looked behind him again. Lindë was sure he did it for dramatic effect.

Lindë could not stop the sarcasm rampaging her brain.

...That...she is Tyelkormo's daughter? Wow... nothing gets past you clever clogs! It is not as if half the camp have been talking about that all morning...

'...that she is Prince Turkafinwë Tyelkormo reincarnated!' Sanda finished, looking as though he had solved a century-long mystery.

Lindë did a double take.

'WHAT?!' She exclaimed. 'You are joking right?'

Their serious expressions answered that question.

Lindë could not help it. She laughed and laughed and laughed.

She felt their judgement on her, but she cared even less than she had before. How could she care when they were so unbelievably gullible?

Finally she composed herself enough to say. 'I hate to contradict your little 'conspiracy', but you do realise, if Tyelkormo died, he would go to the everlasting darkness?'

'Not if he or his father or brothers reclaimed the silmarils' Alma answered.

'If they reclaimed the silmarils before or after Tyelkormo supposedly 'died', he would be in Lord Námo's Halls. I doubt he would be released before those he killed, before the innocents who did not even wield a weapon at Swanhaven were re-embodied.' Lindë could not help but roll her eyes at the fact she needed to explain how the Halls worked.

'But what if Námo did release him. And released him as a girl to cover his tracks?' Kalima suggested.

'Then there would be another rebellion, this time by the Teleri. And why would he do that? The Fëanorions insulted Námo and his fellow Valar in the worst way possible. And Siofra is only a few decades younger than me, born before the flight.'

'Do you have proof though?' Sanda questioned.

That single piece of information is more evidential than any of the codswallop you have all thrown in my face!

'Do you have proof?' Lindë narrowed her eyes. A tense stare off ensued between her and Sanda

'Anyways...' Fínëa interrupted. '...We do not want your opinion Lindë, we want your account of this nís. We know you hold a strong grudge towards the House of Fëanáro, don't worry we understand. Did this girl... remind you of Tyelkormo in any way?'

You did NOT just ask me to do that...

Lindë finally lost her cool.

'No' she began. 'She didn't remind me of Tyelkormo at all. Then again, did I know Tyelkormo? No. I only saw him once, as he killed half my family. And you want me to recount that for you? Siofra was kind and compassionate and helpful, very understanding. Unlike all of you. How can any of you have the nerve to ask me to remember the darkest day of my life just to satisfy your made-up gossip fantasies? You should all be ashamed, but it's clear you are incapable of such. Good day.'

With that she stormed off to the training ground, strangely feeling as though a weight had been lifted from her chest.

sSSsssSsSsSsSssSs

A few paces away from Lindë, Malta sparred with his brother.

'Yield' He smirked, after successfully disarming and knocking Culoxë to the ground for the seventh time in a row.

'How is it that you can barely tie your bootlace, and yet, the one thing you excel at is sword fighting!' Culoxë grumpily replied.

Malta smirked and shrugged, giving his brother a hand up. 'Guess it was those extra lessons cousin Laurë gave me when you, hanno, were too busy charming the níssi!'

'I was just enjoying my youth! It is not my fault that you, little hanno, were far too young to be out charming níssi back then!'

'Technically it was Laurë's youth too. But somehow, between the Aráto Games and the persistent attempts to court that nís... what was her name?...Never mind, my point is he still found the time to train me!' Malta teased.

'Hey that's not fair!' Culoxë protested. 'I was not gone that much! And since you keep besting me with the damn sword, it seems like Laurë was a better teacher than me anyway!'

'True' Malta cockily flicked his hair over his shoulder. Culoxë rolled his eyes.

'To change the subject to something less offensive to me.' Culoxë began. 'Have you heard the rumours in camp?'

Malta crinkled his nose. 'Ahhh... no...'

Culoxë shook his head. He loved his brother, though he was certain Malta was the most oblivious ner in all of Aman. This news had been spreading so fast around camp that one would not be able to avoid it if they tried.

But Malta, somehow, had successfully avoided it.

'Well...', Culoxë began '...it turns out one of the competitors may be a lovechild of Noldor nobility-...'

'LET ME GUESS, KYELAERON?!' Malta enthusiastically shouted. 'I didn't believe him at first when he said he was a Lord! But then I noticed he looked a lot like Laurë's otorno!'

'What? Your partner? The one who did the tree thing?' Malta nodded, like a little puppy. 'No hanno not him!' Culoxë shook his head, and wondered if it weren't for him would Malta even know what year it was. 'It is a nís. You know the one that Kyelaeron was hugging once you finished?'

'Ahh I don't really remember that. He did mention something about an osellë though...' Malta narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.

'You know, the nís with the long, silvery blonde hair.' Culoxë prodded.

'Was she Telerin?' Malta questioned.

'No...' Culoxë sighed in exasperation. 'Actually, the night of the opening ceremony, I recall you commentating on her hair. 'A bird's nest' I believe you called it.'

'OH YES! Her!' The one who left you mid- dance!' Malta laughed.

Culoxë rolled his eyes. 'Of course you forget everything else, but remember that! And may I remind you it was her otorno who grabbed her in the middle of the dance.'

'He was not very good at etiquette. He never called me by my title. Most uncourteous. But in the end I learned to ignore the fact he was ignoring protocol, and we worked well as a team.'

'How noble of you.' Culoxë laughed internally. He could just imagine the drama his little hanno had caused, between the absent titles and the hair ordeal.

'So who is this nís supposed to be related to?' Malta really was clueless.

'Think Malta. A hunter who hailed from Noldor nobility. I'll give you a hint. They were royal.' Culoxë replied.

Malta racked his brains. 'Princess Írissë?' he guessed.

Culoxë wanted to smack his head off the ground.

'NO HANNO! Does she look like Írissë? No!'

Malta defended himself. 'Well I be damned if she did not have the same air about her as Princess Írissë.'

'Would you wager that?' Culoxë decided to use his brother's pride to his advantage.

'One thousand gold pieces she is Írissë's daughter and not the child of whoever you think.' Malta bet confidently.

'Deal!' Culoxë agreed all too eagerly. 'You want to guess who my money is on?'

'OH! I think I know now!' Malta exclaimed.

'Go on'

'One of the twins! The youngest of Prince Fëanáro's House. They used to go hunting didn't they?' Malta was so sure of himself it was amusing.

'Malta, Princes PItyafinwë and Telufinwë were just over two centuries old when they left. A little disturbing for one to have a child that young don't you think?'

'Well who is it then?' Malta was getting tired of this guessing game.

'You do not like him. He committed the worst crime you could possibly imagine during the final of his Games. And he did it to our dear cousin.' Culoxë hinted, making the answer quite obvious.

Malta's eyes went wide. Culoxë saw the exact moment the resemblence between Siofra Aranya and Turcafinwë Tyelkormo clicked in his mind. He knew that his little hanno was raging deep down. Malta knew he had lost the bet.

'That hair-pulling bastard!' scowled. He had never taken well the fact that his favourite cousin had lost the Games partially because the wild Prince used Laurëfindal's own hair against him.

And now Tyelkormo had just lost Malta one thousand gold pieces...

...Or so he thought...

sSSsssSsSsSsSssSs

Tyeliër and Mára spent the morning strolling through the city, Tyeliër showing an awestruck Mára the hidden gems of Tirion.

Both were relieved to have qualified for the second trial.

Certain bold Tirion citizens dared to beg them for information regarding the parentage of their good friend Siofra Aranya. Mára told them all exactly where to go, putting the nosy civilians in their place, in the most impolite manner possible. Tyeliër simply laughed at both Mára's and the people's antics.

Finally the two retired to Tyeliër's home house. He made them tea and they sat down for a while. Mára felt a little out of place in the Noldo building. The sofa was too soft, the air too stuffy, the walls too dull.

Of course Tyeliër simply laughed at this too, commenting on her lack of civility. Mára rolled her eyes and wondered why she bothered talking at all.

'You know...' Tyeliër began '...the rumour that seems to be everywhere about Siofra?'

'Which one?' Mára asked, giving her eyes another roll. 'I lost count of the amount of ridiculous questions and theories that were fired at us. Honestly! Perhaps the gift of the Noldor is not knowledge, but story-making and gossip-spreading!'

'Most of them were complete bullshit.' Tyeliër admitted '...but the one about her being the daughter of Tyelkormo...? She does look a great deal like him, I have always wondered... though when I mentioned her resemblance to Kandāra, when I first joined... well let's just say she made sure I never mentioned Tyelkormo when I could avoid it, ever again!'

'Oh Please!' Mára shook her head. 'The Tyelkormo theory was the most ridiculous one out there. I knew Siofra's parents, Valar, Siofra and I were always playing together when we were younger! Her Atar and Ammë- and their hound- visited her regularly, and were very kind to me! Then there is Tyelkormo... I never even met him! For all the legend he is he was rarely in the woods! No Meldo, that rumour is not true!'

'Hang on Melda... do you mean to tell me, that, despite being raised in the Woods, you never, ever laid eyes upon Tyelkormo?' Tyeliër seemed in disbelief. Mára nodded.

'HOW?!' Tyeliër demanded. 'When I was a child I saw him many times, here, in Tirion! And he was off with the hunters much more than he was here!

'The only people in the Woods those days, who came and went to and from Tirion regularly, were Siofra's parents. And some smith. And sometimes Ambarussa.' Mára replied.

'Siofra's parents...' Tyeliër whispered, coming to a realisation. 'Melda?...' he began, voice unusually uncertain and anxious '...What were Siofra's parents' names?'

'Do you ever listen?' Mára responded, exasperated. 'Siofra has said a million times if she has said once that she does not know her parents' names! And she..-'

'And she always begs the Elders to divulge the names... and they never do... Why?' Pieces were clicking together in Tyeliër's mind.

'I don't know why! Perhaps the Elders themselves find it painful to talk about, you know, the flight and everything. Siofra's parents being unidentified proves nothing!' Mára thought Tyeliër was reading too deeply into this silly rumour.

Tyeliër stood up, and began pacing, deep in thought. The tattoo... the resemblance... the gift with animals... it is all too similar to be a mere coincidence...how did I not see it before?!

An idea of verifying the truth popped into Tyeliër's mind. His head sprang up. 'Melda?' he asked.

'What!?' Mára was not impressed with his epiphany.

'You say you never saw Tyelkormo. I find that hard to believe. If I showed you a picture of him, would you know if you had seen him before?'

'I never have seen him before, but yes I will look at the damn picture, if only to end this madness!'

Tyeliër smirked. He was certain of himself, certain he was about to prove her wrong.

He led her to his old bedroom. She gazed around, inspecting his little possessions and laughing at the variety of outfits in his wardrobe. He shook his head in amusement at her obliviousness to what many called 'the norm'.

After much rustling in one of his cupboards, he finally found what he was looking for. He withdrew a little paper booklet, perfectly preserved, kept pristine after half a millennium.

'What is that?' Mára asked, curious, as curious as Tyeliër was to find out the truth.

'This, Melda, is a programme. It is a little book a spectator can buy on entrance to an event, such as a concert, or in this case, the Games. I bought this programme when I was a little boy. It was the final of Tyelkormo's Games, the one he and Írissë won. To the eyes of a child, like me at the time, they were heroes, idols, Vala almost. I was completely awestruck by the way they fought. Their agility and resilience, so unconstrained and free. Their personalities, insanely determined and stubborn and fierce. They were different to the Warriors, different to the only world I knew at the time, one full of rules and appearances. They showed me an escape, Melda, and that is when I realised my dream, to become a follower of Oromë.'

Mára smiled at the fond tale. Tyeliër slowly flicked through the pages.

Finally, he stopped on a page. He showed it to Mára. 'Recognise him?' He pointed to the sketch of Tyelkormo and Írissë, posing as the finalists from Oromë's followers.

Mára nearly fell over in shock... in double shock.

'OH MY ERU! OH MY ERU! OH MY ERU! IMPOSSIBLE... NO... NO WAY!'

Tyeliër smirked in victory. 'So I take it you have seen Tyelkormo before... he is Siofra's Atar, is he not?'

'NO NO NO...I DO NOT BELIEVE IT!' Mára cupped her nose and mouth with her hands and shook her head.

'So you haven't seen Tyelkormo before? Give in, Melda, admit you were wrong!' Tyeliër's tone was smug.

'NO MELDA I KNOW! I KNOW YOU WERE RIGHT! IT IS NOT THAT...' Mára was pacing the floor at this stage.

Tyeliër raised an eyebrow. 'Then whatever is the matter? Mára... MÁRA! Calm down! It can't be that bad!'

Mára closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, composing herself before turning to face Tyeliër, about to shock him with a truth he had not seen coming.

'Írissë...' she whispered, pointing to the sketch of the Princess in the programme. Tyeliër's eyes followed to where she pointed.

'Yes Melda that is Írissë. What about her?' Tyelië crinkled his brow.

Mára took a deep breath.

'That is Siofra's mother.'

sSSsssSsSsSsSssSs

Vayeyla shut the door of her shop behind her and breathed a sigh of relief.

She had not had the chance to tell a single soul yet about the long-lost nephew she had only just discovered. Not a soul!

And yet, no sooner had she left the arena after the Trial and strangers were approaching her and congratulating her.

They knew...

She had presumed a few would know, after all, she had learned of Kyelaeron's existence from a ner who heard a rumour...

But it seemed that Kyelaeron's likeness to his father, and talents of his mother, were a dead giveaway, to those not already in on the 'secret'.

Vayeyla had gone out this morning for a short walk. No more than twenty minutes she had told herself. I need to be back to open the shop...

Two hours later she returned. Her face more tired than her feet, from all the fake smiles and 'thank-yous' she had to say to random people.

And then there was the rumour about Aranya... Vayeyla had to admit the nís did indeed look much like Tyelkormo, though she had not realised before...

Vayeyla did not mind who Aranya was related to- she was family to Kyelaeron, when he had none, and that was enough to make Vayeyla accept her as her own. She would make sure to give that nís the biggest hug, welcome, and thank you when she finally met her.

Vayeyla had forgotten what it was like to have all eyes on you, the centre of attention. It reminded her of her brother's Games. However, the publicity did not seem so intruding back then. She was used to attention back then.

Now all she wanted to do was sit down with a book and a nice cup of hangover tea, for Vayeyla had celebrated as hard as her nephew had, last night.

She was about to sit down, when a knock sounded on the door. A cloaked figure, a nís judging by the shape, stood there, face covered.

Vayeyla sighed. Just when she had a moments peace a customer decides to walk in... typical.

Drawing another fake smile, ignoring the throbbing in her head- from the mirúvorë or the 'Congratulations', she did not know- she strolled over to the door, opening it for business.

'Welcome.' She greeted the customer. 'How may I help you today?'

The hooded nís closed the door behind her, while replying 'One of your hangover teas would be wonderful.'

Vayeyla gasped, a beam broke out on her face as the nís lowered her hood.

'AMÁRIË!' she exclaimed, rushing over to the Vanya nís and giving her a fierce hug, which was returned. The two níssi laughed.

'I missed you, old friend.' Amárië smiled, after the two broke apart.

'And I you!' Vayeyla smiled.

'Never did I think I would see the day you would be in a public place without wearing half of your family's jewellery box!' Amárië teased, and for a moment it was as though nothing had changed since the Years of the Trees, their glory days, the days they did not know were so precious until they were gone.

'Would you believe I sold my family jewels, for this place!' Vayeyla waved her hands around, laughing but yet quite proud of all she had achieved on her own.

'Who are you and what have you done with the Vayeyla I knew!' Amárië giggled.

'A lot has changed since we last saw each other, I am afraid.' Vayeyla hated to kill the happy mood, but needed acknowledge the change of times before it became an elephant in the room.

'Indeed.' Amárië sounded lost, hand absently going to her chest. 'Vayeyla...I... I am sorry I did not keep in touch. It's just... I.. I needed time after, well, after you-know-what. I returned to Valmar and the thought of returning here, it just reminded me of...'

'You have nothing to be sorry for. We all needed time to heal, and unlike you, I did not lose my one. I am just glad you are here now.' Amárië had tears in her eyes already. Vayeyla gave her another motherly hug.

When she had composed herself, Amárië resorted back to teasing. 'But, Vayeyla... you did lose your one! '

Vayeyla sighed in exasperation. Over half a millennia was still not long enough to make people forget the one-sided romance she had played little to no part in. 'Look, if this is about Laurëfindal, just note that I can have you barred from my shop!'

'Ha! As if! I will not tease however. Your brother gave you enough grief back in the day.'

'He would tease me for rejecting Laurë, and yet, if I had courted him, I am sure he would have done everything within his power to act as a third wheel from waxing to waning to waxing.' Vayeyla rolled her eyes.

'Speaking of your brother... Amárië began '...was that ner, at the trial?'

'Yes, that was my nephew, Kyelaeron.' Vayeyla nodded. 'Did you hear the rumours, or was it the resemblance?'

'Both.' Amárië admitted. 'I don't mean to pry, but did you know?'

'Know my brother had a son who dwelt with the hunters?' Amárië nodded. 'No, not until five years ago. A rumour told me. I met him however, not a week ago. He is now my pride and joy!' Vayeyla smiled.

'So Elenā...?' Amárië questioned, eyes hopeful, hoping to be reunited with her friend from years back.

Vayeyla shook her head. 'She left. I believe she was looking for hanno. It turns out she did not leave him by choice.'

Amárië sighed sadly. 'I always did wonder about that. It was so out of character for Elenā to run away. It was so heartbreaking for both of them I am sure.' Amárië, as always, was a hopeless romantic.

'I will tell you all about it once I have my hands on a bottle of the strongest mirúvorë, I promise.' Vayeyla told her.

'Only if you wish. I do not want to be nosing in on your family drama.' Amárië assured her.

'No, you are not 'nosing', I could do with a practice run before I break the truth to Kyelaeron.' How Vayeyla dreaded that day. 'Speaking of family drama, Amarie, what do you make of the rumours about the huntress who resembles Tyelkormo so much some are going as far as to call her a lost princess.' Vayeyla did not mention the close relationship between Aranya and Kyelaeron, she wanted an unfiltered, uncensored opinion.

Amarie shrugged. 'It's very possible that rumour is true. However, some of my people are whispering other things about that nís. I think what they are saying is nonsense, and if any theory is true it is the 'daughter of Tyelkormo' one. However, they do have some evidence.'

'What other theories are out there?' Vayelya's curiosity got the better of her.

Amarie divulged what she knew. 'I will not waste your time with the completely idiotic ones, with absolutely no proof to them at all. But the one that stands out- other than the daughter one- is that she is Míriel re-embodied.

'Really?' Vayeyla scrunched her nose. 'That's the best alternative?' She did not believe this theory in the slightest.

'I know it sounds very far fetched.' Amárië admitted. 'But you know how Lady Indis sat with her brother in the Vanyar royal box yesterday?' Vayeyla nodded. 'Well, apparently when she saw the nís... Siofra isn't it?...When she saw her, she gasped 'Míriel!' out loud.'

'And that's what people are placing their money on?' Vayeyla was completely skeptical. For all she knew, Indis may have just been commenting on the similarities of the hair colour. Also, Míriel refused re-embodiment at a time her son and all of her family were here, on these shores. Why would she accept it now?

'Well, that theory is not as bad as the 'daughter of Írissë' one.' Amárië commented.

'Are you serious?' Vayeyla could not believe the stupidity of some. 'She looks nothing like Írissë!'

'She carries a bow just like the one Írissë once had.' Amárië stated.

'Oh alright, so if I got myself a silver bow I might be Írissë's daughter too?' Vayeyla shook her head at the madness of it all.

Amárië laughed and answered 'I told you none of the theories are as convincing as the 'daughter of Tyelkormo' one.'

'You are right there.' Vayeyla sighed. 'I ask because Siofra Aranya is Kyelaeron's osellë. From what he told me, she seems to have no idea of the identity of her parents. I admit the resemblance between her and Tyelkormo escaped me until I heard the rumours myself. I just hope the people do not hurt her. Words can cut one as easily as a knife, especially one who has grown up in ignorance of society her whole life.'

Amarie's expression darkened. 'I would worry about her getting hurt, not by words, but by sticks and stones... if you get my meaning.'

Vayelya's eyes opened wide. 'You don't think...would people really go that far? No matter who her parents are, she is innocent!'

'I think when grief takes over, one is capable of anything.' Amárië gazed at the floor.

'She will be protected.' Vayeyla assured, more to herself than anyone else. 'Oromë and Vána would never allow it, she is under their protection.'

'True.' Amárië realised, brightening a little. 'So... otorno and osellë? I saw Kyelaeron and Siofra embracing after the trial, and I wondered... what was the relationship there?...'

Vayeyla shook her head and laughed. No doubt Amárië had hoped the two would kiss, or perhaps a proposal, or anything romantic at all. Her dear friend really would see romantic energy between a rock and a twig.

'Ever the hopeless romantic, Amárië!' Vayeyla giggled. 'No doubt you are planning their wedding already- just in case!'

'No no, the only wedding other than my own I am planning is yours and Laurë's, when the time comes!'

Vayeyla gave her a playful smack.

SsSSsSsSSsSSsSssSssSSsSSsSS

The Void, where time is irrelevant...

Dark, cold, empty, Pityo, fated, blank, nothing, Void, dark, space...

My name is Pityafinwë Ambarussa...

My brothers...Owww!

Darkness, numb, boredom, blackness, light...

Wait... light?

Pityo's little word game was cut short. A blinding white light swept in and surrounded him, burning his eyes, so used to the dark they were by now. He felt ...not cold, not burning...warmth. He felt warmth for the first time since he ended up in this place.

He was able to see himself now too.

He gazed around. This new place was as empty as the void, and yet, he could see his body... well its ghostly form that is. This image alone was the most interesting thing Pityo had seen in centuries.

He wondered why he was here.

'PITYAFINWË UMBARTO AMBARUSSA.' A voice boomed, echoing around him, slightly deafening him, so unused to noise he had become. Pityo could not see the speaker, but the voice was melodic, even more melodic than... OWWW!... more melodic than someone he used to know.

Pityo knew who was speaking, though he did not know how. 'Eru Ilúvatar, The One' he whispered, to himself more than anyone.

'Correct.' the voice sang back. 'Welcome to my home.'

Home? ... Pityo remembered what a home was... he used to have one...

And then I left it...

'I see you are remembering tidbits of who you once were, the life you once had, the people you once loved.' Eru commented.

'Y... yes .' Pityo's voice was hoarse. He had not been able to talk before, in the dark... 'But it hurts to remember the people.'

'I saw that.' remarked Eru. 'It did not just hurt. It was excruciating. One is not meant to remember anything in the Void. And yet you did, Pityafinwë, somehow you managed.'

'How... how did I end up in the Void?' Pityo asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

'Would you like to remember?' Eru asked.

'Will it hurt?' Pityo almost winced, recalling the hurt he previously experienced.

'Most definitely. It will be the most painful thing you have endured, and you my child have been no stranger to pain.' Eru answered honestly. 'But, you are already dead, and have proven yourself more than capable pulling on through agony.'

Pityo did not have to think about it too long. Anything was better than this sort of existence, having nothing but a few names and words to remind you who you are.

And a son of Fëanáro did not know when to shy away from something...

'Very well.' Pityo nodded. 'I wish to remember.'

Pityo could hear the smirk in Eru's voice. 'Just remember, you asked for this...'

And then the pain hit.

AAAAGGGHHHHAHHHAGGHHHHH!

Pityo screamed in agony as excruciating memories flooded into his mind...

He recovered every memory he ever had, certain moments flashing a little more painfully and lasting longer in the forefront of his mind than others...

His earliest memory... he and Telvo lying in a cot, laughing...

HAAAAHAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHAAAA!

His last memory...He and Telvo screaming and fire and smoke surrounding him...

NOOOO! AGGGHHHAAAA TELV- AGGGGHH!

His mother, her green eyes and soft smile and gifted hands.

I'M SORRY! Amm- AAAGGGGGGHHHHH!

His father, and his brilliance and madness and pride.

ATAR! HOW COULD YOU BUR-...AAAAHHHH!

His brothers... all of them so different and unique, yet each of them willing to die for the other...

WHY DID YOU ALL B- NOOOO AAAAAHHH STOP!

Telvo... he felt the bond he had with his twin in his mind, but now it was ripped, torn to shreds apart, in a most painful and sudden manner.

I AM SORRY!... YOU SUFFERED MORE!...YOU- NOOOOOOOOO! ERU STOP! AAAGGHHH!

Tirion... his home.

IT HURTS!

Formenos... not quite home, but not the worst place to be either...

OOOOOOWWWWWWW !

His childhood. The mischief and pranks and his Ammë's scolding, his Atar's rage, his brothers' annoyance.

IT IS TOO MUCH! I CAN'T I... AAAGHH!

Alqualondë... the screams... the fighting... the stench of saltwater and death mingled together.

NOOOOOO! ERU PLEASE NOOOO NOOO NOOOOOOOOO!

Oromë's Woods...his little niece knocking him over with her hug, him falling onto Telvo, who in turn fell into the lake.

ARANYAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHHHAAAA

The voyage to Endor... the crashing waves and thunderous skies, Ossë and Uinen taking their rage out on their fleet, the sea sickness...the fear of drowning.

AAAAAAHHHGGGGGHH HELP ME ERU!

His father speaking, his voice harsh and proud. He and his brothers echoing the words... swearing... swearing away their own freedom, their own souls...

...to the Everlasting Darkness...

The Oath... he recalled The Oath...

The pain stopped. He had remembered everything.

That did not stop him from screaming, this time in anger.

'AAAAAAAHHHGGGGGHHHHH THAT STUPID, FUCKING OATH! I SPENT ALL THOSE YEARS IN OBLIVION, JUST BECAUSE OF A FEW ILL PLACED SOUNDS AND SYLLBELS? I SWEAR TO YOU ERU, THAT WAS A CRUEL-...'

'I CAN SEND YOU BACK TO OBLIVION AS EASILY AS I TOOK YOU OUT OF IT!' Eru by no means had tolerance for such temper in his presence. 'REMEMBER WHO YOU SPEAK TO, SON OF FËANÁRO. TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR WHAT YOU SAID AND DID! YOU GOT WHAT YOU DESERVED! CONSIDER YOURSELF LUCKY FOR EVEN HAVING SLIMMER OF HOPE OF RE-EMBODIMENT !

That shut Pityo up.

'Re-embodiment...?' Pityo failed miserably to conceal the hope in his voice.

'You heard me.' Eru replied.

'You would allow me back...? To fulfil the oath with my father and brothers...?'

'You have a role to play in the music, Umbarto. Fated indeed you were, but not to die in the shipburning.' Eru spoke in riddles.

Pityo was intrigued. 'So, you would simply release me? No conditions?' It seemed too good to be true.

'What if I told you I would let you back, only if you did not pursue the oath?' Of course Eru would say such. Of course there was a price.

Pityo was silent. He thought for a moment. He reached into the back of his mind. The oath was still there. He could feel its tug...it was stronger... much stronger than it had been before...would he be able ignore it? He was not so sure. If it was only getting stronger... how long would it be until he was willing to kill for it, die for it... return to the Void for it?

Then there was his father and his brothers... If they were risking their lives for the oath could he really step aside? Could he allow them into danger while he looked on from a safe distance? Would he be able to let them die, knowing the enternal darkness they would face... and not even try to redeem their souls?

That sentiment alone answered Eru's question.

'No.' Pityo replied, voice strong. 'I would do anything to get myself out of that horrible place, anything for even the slightest chance of re-embodiment. But I would not forsake the oath. Yes, it was a mistake to swear it, but, as you said, I must take responsibility for my actions. I must do all I can to fulfil the oath and reclaim the silmarils. Not for myself, but for my father and my brothers. I cannot return to Arda and simply leave the oath be, knowing the dark fate that awaits my family should their deed fail.'

Pityo raised his head, despite the dread of the doom he feared his words would bring. A long silence stretched. Far too long for Pityo's comfort.

Finally Eru spoke. 'Very well.'

Pityo wholeheartedly believed that was it. That was his chance, gone. What else could he have done? Had he lied Eru would have known. Had he even tried for a second to ignore the oath he knew he would fail. He could not forsake his brothers, especially Telvo... I'm sorry Telvo... like before, I wanted to get out, not for me but for you...

Eru interrupted his musings of despair. 'I think miscommunication has occurred, my child. Your thoughts fear returning to the darkness. That is not where your destiny lies... for now...'

Pityo's eyes went wide. 'You...you are sending me back to Arda?'

'I thought I had made that clear.' Eru replied. 'You passed the first test. You were honest. You felt the pull of the oath and the need to protect your brothers, and you knew you could not abandon them and go against the word you gave long ago. Though you feared the truth would send you back to the void, you were honest with me... The oath has not yet taken your honour from you. Shame... some of your brothers were not so strong...'

'What... what do you mean?' Pityo's worry grew again. 'My father and brothers.. they are all alive are they not?... None of them are suffering now as I suffered, alone in the darkness... are they Eru?'

Hesitation.

'When you reach the Halls, tell Námo why you have returned. I will ensure he takes your fëa in. I would then take a trip to Vairë's tapestries... Much has happened while you were in the dark.'

That did not answer Pityo's question. Nor did it ease his anxiety. 'Please Eru! Just tell me are they alive!? Please!'

'Impatient child, as many of your House are...' Eru remarked. 'Nevertheless, I will tell you that your brothers all live...though changed they are...

That was not reassuring. But at least his brothers were alive. As was his father...

Wait... Eru said nothing of Atar...

Somehow, Pityo knew the answer to his next question before he even asked it. 'Atar is dead, isn't he? He is in the Void... he was there while I was there!'

Eru ignored his question. 'Remember, with your brothers...not all changes are visible. Give Námo my regards', was all the One gave away, before his voice faded to nothing and Pityo found himself surrounded by blinding colours... no...not colours... music.

It wove it's way around him, healing hurts to his fëa he had long forgotten.

It surrounded him...

...Consumed him...

... Fulfilled his very fëa...

...It swept him away to another place...

...The Halls of Mandos to be precise.

ssSssssSssSssssSsSsSSsSsSssSsSSssS

Tirion, First Age 505...

Huan made his way through the streets of Tirion, ignoring the stares and looks of awe, growling at anyone who dared to make to touch him.

Usually he was not so unfriendly. Wild and fierce, sure, but not usually so grumpy as to make a toddler cry.

Tyelko probably would have laughed at that...

He shook away the memories of his dearest friend. Shook away the guilt of his betrayal.

It was hard for Huan. Although he knew he did the right thing, a hound's duty was to his master.

Tyelko never let me call him 'Master'...he said I was free to do as I wished. I wished to protect him and stay at his side, loyal to him...always...

But I couldn't let him take Lúthien and enslave her to him... just because he was in grief over what happened to Írissë...

He wanted revenge...He wanted to take Thingol's pride and joy and make her suffer the way Írissë did at the hands of one who dwelt in Thingol's land...

The old Tyelko would have wanted me to stop him...

A thought occurred to Huan. He recalled the tapestries, verifying the thought.

Tyelkormo does not know Írissë is dead...

He whined loudly, mourning the nís Tyelko loved. Huan loved her too. She was brave and fierce and yet so loving to those she loved. Like Tyelko and... and Siofra.

Aranya...the reason he was prowling the streets.

He had slipped away after the trial. Kyelaeron's little stunt had taken eyes off him momentarily, and for that Huan was glad.

Siofra did not notice he was gone until it was too late, so caught up she was in watching for and then celebrating with her otorno.

Huan felt a little guilty for leaving her, she had been left alone too many times. But he also needed to see Oromë, who was almost a father to Huan. His relationship was different with Oromë than what it was with Tyelko, the latter being more of a brother than the former.

Needless to say, their reunion had resulted in many whines and suspiciously wet eyes, from both Vala and hound.

Oromë, after much catching up, had given Huan a duty. He need not have asked, Huan was thinking of doing such already.

He was to watch over Aranya. Protect her, from the whispers and fear and conspiracies the people already spread like wildfire. Huan was to make sure any fear turned to violence did not harm the daughter of his master.

No... she is not the daughter of my Master anymore... she is my Master now...

And so, after snapping at a ner he saw whispering suspiciously to a nís on the street, and growling at no less than ten other elves after that, Huan made his way to the encampment of the hunters.

It was time to meet his new Master.

No...not master... Huan heard an adolescent Tyelko's words echo in his head, haunting him.

...Friend...

sSSsssSsSsSsSssSs

Aranya loved the encampment of the hunters.

She had a whole tent to herself! 'Tent?' she had said when they arrived, to the nís showing them around. 'This is the size of a palace!' she exclaimed before spinning like a dancer in a brand new dress, and diving onto the luxurious mattress, the softness of which she had not thought possible.

Needless to say, she received a strange look from the nís.

Kyelaeron's tent was right next to hers. Aranya thought this was hilarious. 'It's like we are city people! She had exclaimed. 'Next door neighbours! I can come over to your house for tea and visits and such!'

'Anya you do realise this is not what a city house looks like?' Kyelaeron had amusedly replied. Anya was not really listening however.

Then there was the baths. For one used to bathing in lakes and streams their whole life, they really were a wonder to behold, regardless of the fact she has caused a bit of a situation when she experimented with every soap and ointment and oil possible, causing a strange chemical reaction, which left her running out of the bath screaming and completely naked. The Maiar in charge of maintaining camp were not too happy with her to say the least.

But there was one problem with camp.

Despite the fact that she was fascinated by the comfort of the bed, it was too soft. The first night in camp she stuck it out in the bed, and instantly regretted it the next morning. She had to stay in a cobra pose for over an hour to undo the tension.

And so, from that day onward she slept on the floor, as she had her whole life.

The day after the First trial she slept longer than usual. It was after dawn by the time she woke.

She would have slept even longer... but something was licking her face.

'Huh?' she muttered to herself, before a familiar bark answered 'Woof!'

Siofra sprang up. 'HUAN!' She exclaimed, before proceeding to half strangle the poor hound with a mad hug. 'I thought you had left me!'

Huan almost cried at the relief in her voice

'No Aranya, I went to see Oromë, that is all...'

'Well don't leave without telling me again you silly boy!' Huan would have scolded her for name-calling, but she was scratching his favourite spot, just behind his ears ...She remembers...

Huan decided to be upfront and straight out told Aranya what he was here for.

'Aranya... I ... I would like to stay by your side. If you would have me...?' Huan found it difficult to piece together the exact words, but Aranya understood.

'HUAN!' she exclaimed, genuinely surprised but delighted. 'You want to look after me!?'

'Yes.' Huan nodded. 'I want you to be my Master...'

'NO!' Siofra shouted, and for a moment Huan thought she rejected him. His ears drooped.

'Huan!' Siofra scolded again. 'Did you not listen to a word Atto ever said! He made it clear you were his friend, he was not your Master! Actually I believe it was best friend. Although I was not allowed to say that to Ammë or uncle Curvo... or Ambarussa for that matter!'

Huan sniggered at what a scolding/teasing Tyelkormo would have received from his family had he openly admitted his best friend was in fact, a dog...

Huan shrugged. 'Sorry Master' he replied- accidentally on purpose.

Siofra gave him a whack on the nose.

'I would be delighted to have your company, Huan.' Aranya proceeded to hug him again. Huan wagged his tail.

'Thank you... friend.'

'Huan?' Aranya began nervously.

'No.' Huan knew what she was about to ask. He could not answer. Not only did he not want to, but he had strict orders from Oromë.

'HUAN PLEASE! You worry me! You not answering makes my heart pound tenfold.' She stood up and began pacing. 'How did you and Atto get separated? Are he and Ammë together? Are they okay? Are...are... if you are here does that mean... are Atto and Ammë...' She scrunched her face. 'THEY ARE NOT DEAD ARE THEY?' She shouted very fast, as if she deemed the words unspeakable and more hurtful the longer she spent uttering them.

Oromë had told Huan what to say if such a question was asked.

'They are both safe, Aranya. I am here because I died. Lord Námo released me for the Games. They love you and miss you.'

Huan spoke half truths. He did not add 'Your Ammë is safe, in Námos keeping', nor did he say 'I died after I betrayed your Atar.' And he certainly did not mention 'Your Atar loved and missed you so much it destroyed him...'

Aranya looked at him strangely. It was as if she did not believe him, but wanted to.

Huan stared back, feigning a virtuous demeanour successfully, for Aranya simply nodded her head, and muttered 'That is good' before leaning against the wall and hugging her knees to her chest.

Huan was by her side instantly, offering comfort. He knew that look, that expression, that blank stare and silence. He had witnessed it many nights in Himlad, and then in Nargothrond.

She missed them.

Siofra absently raked her hands through his fur and leaned her head against Huan. They remained like so in silence for a time.

When Siofra was ready, cheeks streaked with a few stray tears, she began to laugh.

Huan shot her a questioning look.

'Huan, would you like to be my bed? You are far comfier than the floor and yet not as painfully soft as that mattress over there!' she giggled.

Huan growled in disagreement. Aranya only laughed more.

'Come! let us go visit the ner next door! You can apologise to him for NOT helping him in the Trial yesterday!'

'Well if I had helped him he would not have got a standing ovation, Aranya.' Huan cheekily wagged his tail in response.

'True.' Aranya replied. 'But he would have been out of bed by now if you had helped him! The whole controlling the trees takes effort! I hope will be recovered enough for the second trial!'

'Perhaps if the two of you stopped drinking like fish every night you would both get up faster?!' Huan suggested smugly. Aranya gave him a playful cuff on the head.

The two walked a few paces to Kyelaeron's tent. Another worry arose in Huan's mind.

Aranya was going to introduce him as Huan , her Atar's hound.

Anyone who knew anything about relatively recent history would know Huan was Tyelkormo's hound.

For one as clever as Kyelaeron (Oromë had told Huan to be wary of the Otorno's quick wit.) It would not be too difficult to piece two and two together.

I suppose, if he did figure it out, I could scare him from revealing anything to Siofra... she cannot find out...

If Carcharoth feared me, how hard will it be to scare a ner who has not yet seen eight hundred years?

Also, I recall Tyelko telling me years ago that I must scare the living daylights out of any ner who dared so much as speak to his little girl, once she reached her adolescence...

Does that count if they are otorno and osellë, and have known each other since childhood? Huan wondered. He shrugged. He never really understood Tyelkormo's irrational fear of adolescent neri. Nor why the fear only seemed to emerge once he was a father...I suppose it does count. He is a ner, she has reached her adolescence... I need to scare him anyway, because of the secret. This other command justifies me even more...

Huan wagged his tail. Playing the role of overprotective dog was going to be fun.

sSSsssSsSsSsSssSs

Kyelaeron was exhausted.

The Trial had taken its toll. From running to the plank tunnel and, of course, the connection he made with the trees, he had over exerted himself just a little.

The late night celebrations and more of the Tirion liquor certainly had not helped his case either.

However, he had time before the next trial. Time to recover.

What better way to rest than a deep, long sleep in a bed soft as a cloud?

And so, he had gladly fallen into the bed, his sleep all the sweeter due to the fact he earned it.

He slept so soundly that his eyes were half shut.

However, his beauty sleep was cut short, by a certain someone jumping on his bed.

'KYELAERON! KYELAERON! WAKE UP ITS ALMOST TWO HOURS AFTER DAWN! ' Siofra yelled between bounces, as if missing the dawn was a mortal sin. 'Wooooaahhh waahhhooo! Who knew beds could be so fun!? Mine won't go to waste now- I can practice my backflips!'

'Mmmm... Anya...please shut up!' Kyelaeron proceeded to turn onto his back, pulling the covers over his head, before adding 'And don't do any backflips.' The last thing Anya needed right now was to break her arm or leg... or neck for that matter.

'I WILL KEEP JUMPING 'TILL YOU GET UP!'

She began performing sit jumps.

'I...can live... with that.' Kyelaeron murmured. He was in the waking sort of weariness, where one could think of nothing worse than getting out of bed. Kyelaeron was sure he could get back to sleep...he began drifting off... so sleepy.

And then Anya lost her footing.

'AAAGGHHAAA!' She desperately tried to save herself from falling.

'OOOOOOFF!' Kyelaeron's torso broke her fall.

'Oh my Eru! Kye are you alright? I am so so sorry, can you breathe? Are you alive? Are you injured? OH NO you haven't moved! CAN YOU MOVE!?' The worry of injury for the Games increased his osellë's panic tenfold.

'Ann...nn...Yaaaa!' Kyelaeron moaned, half suffocated from her hair in his face. 'C..cann...you...gg...gettt...oo..ooff...mmme.. ppplllease?' He gasped.

'Oh SHIT! I forgot, sorry!' Anya jumped off him so fast she fell out of the bed and onto the floor with a 'thump'.

Kyelaeron, most definitely awake now, slowly sat up. He was not hurt, but his already sore abdomen could have done without this. Nevertheless, he feigned a smug look as Siofra slowly peeped up from the floor, almost afraid to face what sort of scolding or teasing he was about to give.

All he did was shake his head and laugh, even though it hurt a little. 'You idiot!' was the only word he could think of to describe Anya in the moment. He received a playfull cuff on the head in return.

'I blame the bed. It is uneven.' No sooner had he proven he was unharmed by Siofra's little accident before she was already placing the blame on something else.

'It will be uneven when one constantly bounces on it osellë' he teased. 'And you are biased against beds, so I cannot accept your testament!'

'Some of us are not born for a life of such luxuries, My Lord.' Of course, Aranya found a goldmine of teasing material from the fact that Kyelaeron enjoyed sleeping in his soft bed.

Kyelaeron rolled his eyes. This joke was getting old. But Anya did not seem to think so. He stepped out of bed and stretched.

Aranya looked strangely smug.

'Anyway, dearest otorno, there is someone here I want you to meet.'

'WOOF WOOF!' sounded behind him.

Kyelaeron nearly jumped, as he turned and saw a huge hound hovering over him menacingly.

'An..Anyaaa...' He whispered nervously. He threw her a look. 'Not again!'

In their youth, Aranya had developed a strange habit of befriending wild, dangerous beasts and introducing them to Kyelaeron. There was the wolf incident, the tiger cub incident and the panther incident, to name but a few.

Because Kyelaeron could not converse with the animals, they were not so friendly with him as they were with Aranya. In fact, the only thing preventing them from making him their next meal was, in fact, Aranya. Kyelaeron used to be terrified to say the least. Aranya would laugh and call her otorno a scaredy cat for shaking like a leaf.

Kyelaeron had to muster every ounce of courage he had now, to conceal the fear that rose within him at the sight of this HUGE hound, who was eying him with... not the friendliest of expressions.

Although there were many hounds in the woods he called home, Kyelaeron was never overly fond of dogs. He found them either too clingy or too snappy, and there had been an incident in his youth, involving an Aranya prank gone wrong...

Aranya, of course, did not comprehend his indifference to dogs in the slightest. 'We should get a puppy!' she had exclaimed one day. 'And we can take it on hunts, and feed it, and go for runs with it and mind it-...

'My hands are full doing all of that... for you!' Kyelaeron had teased her. She did not speak to him for the rest of the day.

Kyelaeron realised just who he was face to face with this very moment...

This must be Huan, Tyelkormo's legendary hound... he thought to himself. He had of course heard how his osellë had used her gift in animal tongue to finish first in the Trial, though in little detail, so busy he and Aranya were celebrating- in other words, getting completely pissed off their heads drunk.

Aranya had failed to mention Huan was now her new pet.

Aranya laughed at his exasperated expression, not at all noticing the menacing gleam in Huan's eye.

'Otorno, meet Huan, my Atar's hound.'

Kyelaeron did a double take.

He wondered had he heard her correctly. Perhaps last night's mirúvorë was affecting his hearing?

'W..wh..whose hound?' he barely managed to gasp out.

'My ATAR'S!' Aranya did not like having to repeat herself. Nevertheless, she continued on to give a long-winded explanation of the situation. 'Huan here left with him, across the sea, but then Huan died, and was re-embodied for the Trial. I have known Huan since I was a little girl, he is the hound I told you about, remember otorno? I used to race Atar on his back! And now he is going to stay with me! We have a dog now otorno!'

Kyelaeron's head felt light and dizzy.

A million facts pieced themselves together in his mind.

The tattoo...

The reluctance of the hunters to mention Anya's parents...

Nerdanel invited her into her home...

Aranya's Atar was able to talk to animals...

Oromë's soft spot for Aranya...

Tanwë calling her Tyelko...

Her Atar followed Fëanáro and her Ammë Nolofinwë...

Oromë being against the Games from the get-go...

Ambarussa spoiling her...

The smith Uncle...

The outstanding talent for hunting...

Vána sending me to Vayelya and Anya to Mahtan...

Kyelaeron shut his eyes tight, straining his memory, thinking way back to that day when he was a little boy, forcing the blurry image of the Prince and Princess to become clear.

His eyes opened wide.

Aranya is the spitting image of Tyelkormo.

Írissë and Tyelkormo were most definately romantically together...

That happened...over five centuries ago... Aranya would have only been an infant baby...

'Your son is not the only child of forbidden love in these woods'... I understand now...

Aranya is oblivious to the truth... Valar she barely knew any of the royals not a week ago!

I have to tell her. . she is my osellë... I know how she feels, not knowing who her family is... I cannot hide the truth from her!...

Kyelaeron braced himself. This was not going to be easy. Aranya never took shock well. And this was not the best time either, just days from the second Trial.

The truth would hurt, but she would not forgive him for a very long time if he kept the this from her, even if it was only until the end of the Games.

And he would never forgive himself for hurting her like so...

'Kyelaeron? Are you alright!? You look as though you have seen a ghost!' Aranya asked, not really concerned, still as giddy as ever.

You have no idea osellë...

'Aranya...' he began, solemnly, causing his osellë's smile to drop. She knew that tone never meant good news. 'Huan was the hound of-...'

'GGGGRRRRRRGRRRRRRR!'

Before he could answer, he found himself pinned to the ground, eye to eye with a furious canine, the weight on top of him significantly heavier than Aranya had been mere minutes ago.

What a chaotic morning this had turned out to be...

Huan growled, and Kyelaeron knew that if he wished to keep his face handsome, he ought to keep his mouth shut.

So instead of telling Aranya with words, Kyelaeron attempted to use his mind.

Aranya... Huan is-...

Huan promptly forced all his weight down on Kyelaeron's body, distracting him from his osanwë, cutting him off yet again. The message was clear. Huan knew when he was speaking with his mind, could understand every word... it was very violating to say the least.

If Aranya heard his osanwë, she soon forgot it, or deemed it nothing more than a cry for help, to get Huan off him.

I will tell her the next time we are alone...

'HUAN! HUAN! GET OFF HIM!' Aranya ordered, in a voice no one would dare disobey.

Except Huan. He barked right into Kyelaeron's ear, for additional show.

'HUAN!' Aranya roared. Kyelaeron could see an internal osanwë battle being waged between his osellë and her hound.

Finally, Huan yielded, and pulled himself off Kyelaeron.

Siofra ran to Kyelaeron, checking him for any injuries, no doubt feeling tremendously guilty.

He assured her he was fine, albeit a little spooked. The scolding she gave Huan had the dog whining in the corner, tail between his legs, ears drooped.

Aranya gave Kyelaeron one of her infamous hugs. For the third time that morning, Kyelaeron felt suffocated, but he could not deny the comfort and security Aranya's arms provided. They were significantly better than what Huan had just put him through.

Huan... Kyelaeron remembered the truth he had been about to divulge. Aranya... Aranya was royal ... Aranya was a princess...

With Aranya's back turned Huan proceeded to glare at Kyelaeron, warning him of the consequences should he divulge what they both knew to be true, all while keeping up his 'guilty' facade by whining every few seconds.

Kyelaeron ignored him, sticking his tongue out at the hound, because Anya was not looking, and if Huan could play that game, so could he. It took all of Huan's restraint not to pounce on him again.

The moment that hound's back is turned, I am telling Anya the truth...

Little did Kyelaeron know that Huan did not plan on 'turning his back' any time soon...

A smirk appeared on Kyelaeron's face. He held the embrace for a few seconds longer, just to relish the sweet, sweet revenge he would serve very soon...

I cannot wait to tell 'Her Royal Highness' here just how much I worship the ground she stands on...

SsSSsssSsSsSsSssSs

The Halls of Mandos, First Age 505...

Írissë huddled in a little nook she had found in the Halls.

She was hiding from her brothers. They had annoyed her enough today.

Arakáno's words had more of an effect on her than she let on. Him.. .Ëol ... she shuddered as his face flashed in her mind. He still haunted her... still affected her. Her fëa was tainted by him, by all the damage he had done to it.

She hated being vulnerable like this. Hated how much she had changed. She hated herself, because she knew deep down this was not her. She wanted to cry.

I used to be brave... I used to be fearless... I used to be free...

She found herself shaking all over, trembling, sobbing.

Ëol's lies mingled with the true facts in her mind. Soon she did not know what was right or wrong.

I want to see Aranya again...

I do not deserve to see Aranya... I abandoned her and Lómion...

I was a useless mother, I should not have left my husband. I belonged to him...

NO NO I DIDN'T HE ENCHANTED ME WITH HIS DARK MAGIC! I COULD NOT LEAVE! I WAS LOST... I WAS TRAPPED!

If I had stayed Lómion would not be alone...

Ëol gave me hospitality in his home... forced marriage was a small price to pay...

No NO! Írissë STOP IT! What he did to me... all of it... it was sick...

I am a COWARD! I was afraid of him and so I left and I deserved to die...

No I didn't... he deserved it... He deserved the Void...

The Void... TYELKO!

I will never see Tyelko again. I will never be released... If he dies he will go to the everlasting darkness...

If I was released, swore an oath to the darkness and then died... NO I CAN'T LEAVE ARANYA OR LÓMION!...

...But I already have...

Tyelko is going to die... he has changed... like me...he will not stop... he will do anything to get the silmarils...for his Atar and for Pityo...

Then again, Tyelkormo is already dead...

I should have stayed in Himlad... Or when I escaped I should have gone with Tyelko to Himlad... he offered...he begged...

When he saw Lómion and me on the way to Gondolin... when he saw me... marred, and tainted me... I saw him die... I saw Tyelkormo die... and Celegorm take over entirely...

I WANT TYELKO! I NEED TYELKO!

Tyelko is gone... forever...

Full of despair, Írissë sobbed and wept and cursed fate and destiny to no end. How long she stayed in her hiding place she did not know. Too long, for she had allowed herself to think too much.

Her fear and anxiety and self loathing all turned to hysteric insanity.

Soon she was screaming, furious at the world.

When Írissë had entered the Halls, she had stubbornly demanded to be re-embodied immediately. She was not meant to be here! This was a mistake! She was needed in Gondolin! Lómion needed her!

Lord Námo however, refused. No one was re-embodied just like that, and Írissë's fëa was in very frail condition.

When told she would not be released, Írissë, proving Námo correct, screamed and thrashed and cursed until Nienna was called. Írissë, however, absolutely refused to be nursed back to stability, and ran.

The Valar of the Halls let her go, perhaps thinking her brother would help her more than they could.

And so Arakáno had found her, huddled in an insane internal rant, as she was now...

None of her brothers, or cousins, or even her Atar, for that matter, could heal her however... No one but Tyelko...

Írissë's screaming got louder...

'ÍRISSË?'

'NÉSA?'

'ONYA?'

Her head shot up. Her father and brothers were looking for her... She did not want to see them now... She did not want to prove Arakáno's words true, or prove Findékáno's concern valid. She did not want to see the pain in her Atar eyes as he saw what a broken mess his only daughter had become.

Because in spite of how much Írissë had changed, she still hated pity...

And so she rose from her cranny, and moved quickly away from the voices.

She was seen however, and her family followed her, in pursuit.

The called her name again. Anger rose within her. Why could they not just leave her be..? She did not deserve their love nor sympathy!

She rounded a corner, passing a balcony overlooking some private room of Námo's.

She skidded to a halt, and was forced to blink and pinch herself at the scene she witnessed below.

She was vaguely aware of her Atar and two brothers catching up with her, beginning to scold and fuss over her, before they too noticed just who was in trouble with Lord Námo.

'No...' Gasped Arakáno...

'Impossible...' Nolofinwë's eyes were wide.

'Are we certain it is not Telvo...?' Findékáno asked, in disbelief.

'Yes' Írissë muttered. 'Look at the hair, it is too dark to be Telvo's.'

Below them, Námo paced over and back, clearly in fury. 'I will ask you one more time...' he spoke, his voice chilling, a tone not a soul would dare disobey. '...how did you escape? DO NOT DARE LIE TO ME, SON OF FËANÁRO!'

'As I have just told you one hundred times, Námo, Eru let me go!' Pityo's fëa seemed worse for wear after so many years spent in the void. However, he leaned against a pillar with his arms crossed, a smug look on his face that would have made his father proud, a cheeky tone in his voice that made it seem like nothing had changed.

Námo did not take such cheek well. 'IT IS LORD NÁMO TO YOU! Tell me Pityafinwë, why did Eru see fit as to release you, and not tell me?'

'Well if we are being formal I suppose you better call me Lord Pityafinwë too.' Pityo smirked.

'Answer the question.' Námo sighed, exasperated.

'Eru said I was not meant to die in the shipburning, that I had a role to play in the music. He said I was to return to my brothers, and granted me leave to help them fulfil our oath.' Pityo listed off the reasons of his release as though he was listing of his favourite colours.

Námo stared at Fëanáro's youngest. 'Oh I believe you now. My apologies for my mistrust.' He uttered sarcastically before bursting into a full-blown rage. 'DO NOT THINK FOR ONE SECOND I WILL RE-EMBODY YOU, BEFORE THOSE YOU KILLED, SIMPLY SO YOU CAN FULFIL YOUR LITTLE OATH THAT IS DRIVING YOUR REMAINIMG BROTHERS TO MURDER! THATS RIGHT! MURDER! MY WIFË WEAVES THEM EVERYDAY, THEY ARE PLANNING ON ATTACKING MENEGROTH, JUST FOR THAT PRECIOUS JEWEL! HOW MANY MORE SOULS WILL ENTER MY HALLS JUST BECAUSE OF THAT RIDICULOUS OATH?! LISTEN CHILD! IF YOU WISH FOR RE-EMBODIMENT, YOU BETTER HAVE A BETTER EXPLANATION THAN THAT AND PROOF! PROOF FROM ERU HIMSELF THAT THIS IS NOT SOME PLOT OF YOUR FATHER! YOU...-'

'BROTHER PEACE! ' Nienna materialised out of nowhere. 'Let the son of Fëanáro explain himself fully, and then we shall give him fair judgement! ' Tears streaked her face. 'This little one has endured much torment...' she whispered to herself.

Námo closed his eyes and sighed. 'You are lucky my sister has heart of gold.' He glared at Pityo. 'I will summon Vairë and Irmo, and we shall hear you and judge you, you will...-'

'What in the name of Ilúvatar is going on in here?' Vairë strolled in, furious at her husband. 'We can hear you from as far away as the looms, Meldo! Control that temper of yours!'

Námo pointed out Pityo to his wife. 'This son of Fëanáro has the nerve to tell me he is to be released, to reunite with his brothers and fulfil the oath, by order of Eru! '

Vairë raised an eyebrow. 'Is that so...?' she stared right into Pityo's soul, quite literally, searching for the lies she suspected there.

'He is telling the truth!' a new voice sounded. In rushed Irmo, eyes wide. 'Eru has just told me everything. '

Námo looked in disbelief at his brother. Irmo stared back, affirmatively. A silent conversation seemed to ensue between the siblings.

Finally Námo spoke. 'So I am simply meant to re-embody him, immediately? Regardless of his crimes and against my better judgement?'

'Not quite.' Replied Irmo, eyes distant, the way they were when he prophesied. 'He will remain here for now. A time will come in the near future where he will be tested, to see where his priorities truly lie. If he passes, he will be re-embodied, but unknown to the Eldar of Aman, save two.'

More silent conversation ensued. Pityo looked slightly nervous. Finally, the four Valar turned their eyes to him. 'Pityafinwë Ambarussa...' began Námo. 'Your fëa shall rest here in these Halls, until the time comes for your release, be it in the near future or the end of time.'

Írissë could swear she saw Pityo gulp uneasily at Námo's intimidating words.

'Fear is pointless, child.' Nienna spoke gently. 'Now come, I am sure your cousins and uncle here will be delighted to see you.' She turned, throwing Nolofinwë's deceased House members a look for eavesdropping. 'And since you suffered as much as they did from the shipburning, I am certain NO quarrels or disagreements will arise between the two of you, will they?'

The soft spoken words could not have been more threatening if Nienna tried.

'No my Lady.' Findékáno spoke on behalf of his family.

'No my Lady'. Pityo echoed.

'Very well, Nolofinwë and your children, come here and greet your nephew and cousin.'

As they made their way to Pityo, Írissë felt a change.

Eru sent Pityo back...

Eru believes there is a chance they can fulfil the oath...

Pityo came back...

...so could Tyelko...

There is hope they will succeed, and reclaim the silmarils...

Tyelko may not die...

...There is hope...

...I need to be released...

...I need to heal...

...I want to heal...

...I want to go home...

'Írissë?' Findékáno halted, noticing a stall in her movement. On hearing his voice, her Atar and Arakáno turned too, concern on their faces.

'Are you alright Onya?' Nolofinwë asked, worry evident in his tone.

Írissë crashed into his arms.

'I am so, so sorry' she whispered, 'for all I have put you through in here. I promise... I promise I will allow myself to heal, I will forgive myself, I will not allow hurts done to me in my past life affect me anymore. I love you, all... so so much.'

She felt Findékáno and Arakáno join the hug. They remained in the sweet embrace for a precious moment, before continuing on down to Pityo.

'Welcome back little sister!' Findékáno smirked.

'Nésa?' Arakáno began.

'Yes little hanno?' Írissë reached to ruffle his hair, and smiled.

'I missed you...' he replied, before turning his face away, unsuccessfully hiding the tears of joy streaming down his face.

sSSsssSsSsSsSssSs

Translations:

Culoxë- Golden haired.

Sanda- firm, true (ironic)

Alma- Flower.

Fínëa- dexterous

Kalima- Luminous

sSSSsSssSssSssSsSs

To anyone who ships Aredhel and Ëol, I am sorry, but I depicted Ëol here as the monster that he is hem I mean, as the person I personally interpret him to be.

Hehe kinda proud of myself for fitting all of Maedhros' names in.

Maeglin: *being a bitch in Gondolin's court, considering switching sides, coming close to murdering Tuor many times...*

Írissë: MY BABY BOY CAN DO NO WRONG! LEAVE (BRITNEY) LÓMION ALONE!

Yes Írissë, Kyelaeron is nice, in more ways than one.

Little note on the fëar in the Halls: Whether it is accurate or not, they are in ghost form in the Halls for this story. So yes they can all talk and move and all look the same as they did alive, except that their ghosts. (This is probably a subconscious coping mechanism my brain has created to heal my broken heart after reading the Silmarillion!)

Soo... Alot of rumours going round. Some really stupid and some very, very scarily correct. Huan appearing at the Trial really added fuel to the wildfire whispers.

Lindë is so sarcastic and I actually love it on her.

The Fëanáro 'famous quote' is not mine. Someone famous said it but I can't for the life of me remember who... not Fëanor anyway!

Oh Malta... he is the definition one of those people that, no matter what they do, things always work out for them. Lucky guess I guess with the Írissë guess!

Amárië represents the Silmarillion fandom as a whole- shipping anything and anyone that so much as breathes.

Ahhh Tyeliër and Mára figured it out! What I loved about their little piece is that they simply used their heads like 'Okay, Mára,you have seen Siofra's parents, I have seen Tyelkormo (and Írissë), let's see if they are the same people...' Kyelaeron and Siofra really ought to have thought of that...

HUAN! Oh my God like just scaring the truth from Kyelaeron's mouth. Like I feel if he wanted to he could prevent Siofra from ever finding out her heritage... but will he?

Siofra loving the camp is the equivalent of me at a 3-4 star hotel.

Me: makes my OC wake up before dawn everyday and freak out if she misses the sunrise.

Also me: Closest I've got to 'waking for the dawn' is when I stay up till 4am in the summertime... Yeah I think I'm more like Kyelaeron here...

KYELAERON KNOWS! HE FIGURED IT OUT! SMART BOIIIIII!Literally Kyelaeron and Huan fighting over Siofra like two little boys fighting over their mother.

Siofra, sometime in the Woods: 'Look at the cute little kitty! Aww you so adorable! Can we take this kitten home Kyelaeron?'

Kyelaeron: *slowly backs away from the full grown lion*

AYYY! Pityo is out of the dark! And literally giving Eru and Námo sass as if his life does not depend on them.

Nienna just can't deal with minding a Fëanorion and forcefully asks Nolofinwë to babysit.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Not as much action as the last but hopefully a few twists and turns to keep the plot interesting.

Comments/Reviews/Kudos/Favs/Follows... PLEASE! They make my day!

SiofraMarina x