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?

23. The Aráto Ball

Tirion, Y.T. ...

What a celebration this was. The first grandchild of Finwë had been born, and the proud new grandfather had spared no expense as he hosted a grand feast and ball in celebration of the gift that was Nelyafinwë.

Nobles of varying amounts of wealth and status all graciously accepted the Noldor King's invitation and had donned their finest for this special day.

The Noldor royal family sat at the top of the room on a raised table, Finwë beaming at the copper-haired babe shared between his proud father and adoring mother. Indis sat the other side of Finwë, smiling at the child and ignoring her step-son's glares. Arafinwë and Lalwendë spent most of the night playing boisterously under the table, a little too young to care for formal parties. Findis appeared content to sit back and observe the scene.

She was seated at the very back of the room, in the corner, a place she knew many would complain about. She did not mind. In this seat, she was almost invisible, and out of the way of gossiping idiots and idle small-talk. This seat allowed her to sit back and observe, just like the princess. But unlike the princess, she knew she did not belong here. In fact, she had planned on politely declining the king's invitation, but... well... it was complicated.

There was just something about the way the second son of Finwë sat, sipping his drink, eyes darting to her whenever he thought she was not looking that made her... well... she was not sure what the strange feeling was in her chest. Love?

She scolded herself. No. She would not fall for a prince. She could not possibly betray herself and her beliefs like that. And whatever this funny, stupid feeling was, she knew it was most certainly not love. She knew Nolofinwë, he was handsome and charming and kind. But they were from two different worlds, it would never work out. Even at this very feast she was struggling to stay calm as the excess grew and grew.

But when he invited her, she lost her ability to say no, in spite of herself.

She had to refrain from itching her skin in anger every time the servants took away plates that were almost as full as they had been when they were put out. She wanted to scream at every idiotic ner and nís who had to run to the gardens as a result of too much wine. Even the damned napkins and placemats pissed her off, so expensive they were that to sell one would probably feed a family for a week!

The feast went on, and her blood grew hotter and hotter. This was ridiculous! And over-the-top! And it was not as if the baby would even remember any of this!

When Nerdanel carried the sleepy, pretty baby boy to bed, the dancing commenced, and she took this as an opportunity to escape to a quiet balcony where the cool night air calmed her frustration a little.

But even the breeze was not enough to cool her down. She needed to release her anger... thus the stonework took a few kicks.

She didn't realise she had a shadow...

'My wife would probably throw you off the balcony if she saw you vandalising her art like that.'

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Could this night get any worse?

Forcing herself to turn, she stood stubbornly as she muttered 'Prince Fëanáro...' giving a curt nod and scowl. '...my apologies...'.

She knew she was being rude, that the best thing for her to do in such a situation would be to squeal in dismay and apologise profusely for 'losing the run of herself'. But she did not particularly care what the arrogant prince thought of her, and the idea of getting kicked out and perhaps banned from ever attending such an event in the palace again did sound quite tempting...

Fëanáro, however, did not seem to mind her lack of curtesy. In fact, he seemed almost impressed by it. He strolled to the stone ledge overlooking the city. 'Nice night...' He commented, nodding too the silvery sky.

'Mmmm...' She responded, lost in memories as she gazed across to the streets she had grown up on.

'Not one for small talk I see.' Fëanáro turned to her, and she was immediately suspicious.

'From what I've heard, neither are you... My Prince.' She did her very best to make his title sound as meaningless as it was to her.

'Who told you that...?' He responded, eyes piercing her soul. '...my eldest half-brother?'

'Why do you presume I have met Prince Nolofinwë, my Prince?' She was not letting him in if she could help it.

He laughed, so sarcastic it was chilling. 'You obviously did not come to this party for the love of the food and drink, the merry company, or my son. In fact, you looked as though you wished to throw yourself off this balcony at times. But Nolofinwë could not take his eyes off you, and you could not take yours off him. You came for him. '

'I wasn't looking at him! He was looking... at me...' She trailed off as she realised her slip of tongue gave herself away. She shook her head as the Crown Prince smirked triumphantly through his glass of wine. Why did any talk of Nolofinwë make her lose her wit?

'What does it matter to you anyway?' She crossed her arms and glared, no longer caring for titles. 'You're hardly here out of concern for Nolofinwë and the mysterious nís he seems acquainted with, I seriously doubt you'd care that much.'

She did not miss the way his fist clenched a little tighter to the railing, nor the flicker of light in his eyes. 'Careful, girl, remember your place.' He warned sharply.

It was her who laughed this time, just as sarcastic as Fëanáro had been. 'My place has been changing much lately. Specifically, every time I best someone who tells me what I cannot be or do. I've faced far worse than you in the past, my Prince. Forgive me for not being afraid of you. Nothing scares me anymore.'

His anger turned to curiosity. He raised an eyebrow. 'New money?'

She nodded. 'And nothing to lose.'

'Except your money...'

'I meant no one left to lose... I don't need money to get by.' She stared off into the streets again and caught him following her gaze.

'I don't know whether to be impressed or suspicious.' Fëanáro stated, and she turned to face him.

'Suspicious of what?' She raised an eyebrow.

'Do you actually like Nolofinwë, or do you like his status? He could boost you up that ladder you are climbing...'

'Excuse me?' Something within her snapped, and her tone went cold.

Fëanáro shrugged. 'It wouldn't be the worst sham wedding I've had to experience...'

She struggled to keep her voice down, but somehow focused her anger into her glare and pose instead, as she threw her shoulders back and stared at the prince until he dropped his arms to his sides and backed down from his power pose just a little.

She then answered his question.

'In case you have not noticed, I am clearly out of my comfort zone at this feast. I hate how every person in that room is dressed in clothes that cost more than what others earn in decades! I hate how all the excess is wasted, when there are babies younger than your precious son starving in this very city! But do you know what I hate most? I hate that none of you know any different! You are all so blind! But still, I will try for Nolofinwë's sake, for the sake of whatever is between us. I will try to understand the world from that privileged perspective. I will practice etiquette until I can fool even you, if that is what it takes. But know this... I will NEVER bind myself to someone for anything other than love. Because where I came from, one's pride and dignity were all one had, and even then the world would try to take them away. This land you rule can take all my riches and titles tomorrow, but it will not take my honour.'

Once she had finished she continued to stare at him for what felt like an eternity. Fëanáro, still too proud to let her win, glared back. It became a staring match of sorts, both refused to break the gaze.

They would have remained like that all night, had it not been for a certain interruption that ended that awkward scenario and began another.

'Brother, Atar wants you to dance with Am-... Oh! A-Anairë! Hi! Ahh-...you're here! I thought you left!'

Anairë smiled a genuine smile, which was rare for her. 'No Nolo, I just needed some air is all. You look very handsome in that tunic.'

'T-thank you. You look stunning Ana, ah...as always.' Nolofinwë stuttered and Anairë tried not to let her smile widen.

'Already past titles and onto pet names I see...' Fëanáro muttered as he leaned on the railing. Anairë discreetly rolled her eyes and Nolo's ears turned pink.

Nolofinwë then cleared his throat. 'Would you care for a dance, my Lady.' He smiled and extended his arm.

Anairë giggled, and it was Fëanáro who rolled his eyes this time. 'It would be my pleasure, my Prince.'

The two of them escaped to the dance floor, Anairë actually looking happy for the first time all evening. Fëanáro sighed before looking out over Tirion. His city, his home. And yet, if Nolo's new lady friend was to be believed, not as perfect as he once thought...

He almost didn't hear that familiar shadow creeping up behind him.

'So what do you think of her?' Findis asked, voice a mix of curiosity and concern.

Fëanáro remained his gaze at the view as he replied 'She's... special, I'll give her that, not the basic lad-di-dah maiden I was expecting.' He took a long sip of wine.

Findis walked over to the balcony and stood beside her brother, leaning on the railing. 'And...?'

He took a long sip of wine. 'She's... interesting...'

Findis stared at him, prodding for more.

Fëanáro sighed 'Intriguing...'

Findis kept staring until Fëanáro properly answered her.

He sighed again, before facing his sister. 'She's tough, and stubborn, and proud. She will keep him on his toes. She worked hard for everything she has. She is well able to stand up for herself. She doesn't like parties. Or cute babies it seems.'

Findis chuckled at the last part. 'Can we trust her. Does she genuinely love our brother, or does she love his title?'

Fëanáro breathed deeply, before answering 'Honestly, I think we can trust her. And I hate myself for saying that, because I feel that she will make my life ten times more difficult than a law-sister who is afraid to stand up to me. But... she does like Nolo, truly. I don't know has it turned into love for the two of them yet, but it could, and I do not think she would settle for marrying for anything less.'

Findis breathed a sigh of relief. 'Good... That's good.' She visibly relaxed and took a long sip of wine.

The two remained in comfortable silence for a time.

Fëanáro broke it, unable to let something Anairë had spoke of go. 'Apparently there are people starving in our city.'

Findis nodded and sighed. 'I guess where there is wealth there will always be poverty, even in glorious Aman.'

'Obviously I know not everyone is wealthy.' Fëanáro replied. 'But I never thought anyone was actually going hungry. Even babies, nésa.' He looked to her. eyes wide.

Findis shook her head humorously at her brother's new fixation with babies, before her expression turned serious. 'You obviously skived off your classes on Tirion society.'

'Why hasn't Atar done something about it?' Fëanáro exclaimed angrily.

'He is, Fëanáro, but it is complicated. It's not as simple as giving everyone in need food and housing. Neglect, crime, pride, fear. Most do not trust us to help them. They see us as the enemy, the ones who live in luxury and prosecute them when they thieve. Some we have helped, but others refuse it, and others are caught up in crimes and debts... like Anairë used to be.'

'How did you manage to find that out? She does not seem the type to go round telling other's her life story. She only let it slip to me because I questioned her intentions with Nolo.'

'Records, obviously.' Findis replied.

Fëanáro raised an eyebrow. 'Any criminal offenses?'

'That's the thing...' Findis appeared puzzled. 'I do not know how she got out of her position of poverty without some sort of crime. But all of her records are clean, suspiciously clean... I feel like some papers may have been lost to mysterious circumstances. And... well her riches had to come from somewhere, and I don't think it's a coincidence that when she got power most of the crime lords lost everything they had...'

'She swindled crime lords from their riches?' Even Fëanáro gaped at that.

'Aye... And has helped many unfortunate families in the process...' Findis replied. 'It is impressive... she is helping the people in a way we have not been able to...'

'Maybe she will be an asset if she ever becomes a member of the House of Finwë... The key to us ending poverty in Tirion' Fëanáro spoke thoughtfully.

'How did we let it happen in the first place?' Findis sighed angrily.

Fëanáro paused in thought, before figuring the answer out. 'Everyone was more or less equal in Cuiviénen. There was nobility, but they were not that much wealthier than anyone else. Everyone was fighting for survival. Then, we came to Aman and built our cities. Businesses were set up, crafts, some materials were harder to come by than others, an economy grew, and with it the gap between rich and poor, and then... then at the worst time possible my...my mother died, and Atar... for a time loses his tight grip on the people, in grief neglects his duties a little... and in that short amount of time the roots of crime in Tirion were established... and a viscous cycle began. And only now I am realising how blind and ignorant I have been...'

'I know you are brilliant Fëanáro but in all honesty this is an issue that I doubt even you could have fixed...' Findis consoled him. 'But I think the best thing we can do now is make Anairë feel welcome. Whatever happens between her and Nolo, if we show her respect and support it will establish her position, give more power to her cause. We'll see where it goes from there. Some problems need to be solved from the shadows...'

Fëanáro patted Findis on the back, accepting her proposal of sorts. 'She is most definitely someone you want with you, not against you...'

Findis nodded. 'She passes the first impression test. But I will still be watching her every move...'

Fëanáro paused for a moment, before coming to a realisation, eyes wide. 'You... you did this with Nerdanel too, didn't you?' His voice was a mixture of amusement and fear.

Findis shot him a look. 'We both know the answer to that question.'

'Do you approve?' Fëanáro teased, smirk planted on his face.

Findis smiled sweetly, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'Brother, let's just say that had I not approved, we would not be here, celebrating the first of the third generation of our house...'

SssSsssSssSsSsS

Tirion, First Age 505...

'I am sorry your Highness, my Ladies. But she refuses to allow me to have any input at all in the dress, and if I design the outfit the way she wishes my reputation and trade will be ruined! I do not know where she got the vision for such a costume but it is not in style at all! I take my commissions very seriously and with an event as huge as the Aráto Ball, I cannot risk my business. I hope you can understand this...'

Arafinwë rubbed his palm across his brow and tried to ignore the exasperated sighs of his relatives around him. 'Very well. You are dismissed.' He nodded to the seamstress, who bowed and took her leave.

'Five dressmakers...' Findis began, frustrated. '...What sort of accursed imagined dress could cause five dressmakers so much grief that they ALL refuse a royal commission? And an Aráto one at that!'

'Even Tyelko didn't cause such a stir, when he insisted his tailor leave him torso-naked.' Nerdanel shook her head.

'Someone needs to go and talk to her...' Earwen insisted. 'Or soon there will be no one left to dress her...'

'The three other finalists' outfits are almost completed, but hers hasn't even been roughly sketched!' Indis commented. 'Why is she being so stubborn and particular about this...?'

No one replied immediately, but they all knew the answer.

'Because she is one of us.' Findis confirmed.

A knock sounded on the door and Arafinwë called for the visitor to enter. In walked Tanwë.

'Tanwë!' Earwen exclaimed. 'How many times do we have to tell you there is no need to knock! You are family!'

The nís shrugged and shot her Queen a sheepish half smile. 'All these years, I still don't feel princess enough to act like one. Anyway, I am only passing. I'm just checking up on the Ball plans and preparations. Do you need any assistance from myself or the other Champions?'

'I think it's fair to say everything is running smoothly.' Arafinwë replied. 'Except for... well... guess who is unknowingly causing trouble for her poor relatives again!'

'Ai! What has she done this time?' Tanwë shook her head at Aranya's talent for causing drama without even trying.

'We're not entirely sure...' Indis answered '...but five of Tirion's most ambitious dressmakers have turned down their commission after meeting her. Apparently she is being very fussy about what clothing goes and does not go on her back.'

'Sounds very familiar.' Tanwë smirked.

'How do we solve this one...' Findis muttered '...without throwing her more clues that we are her family...'

'Ask Kyelaeron to have a word with her?' Ara suggested.

'Eru no!' Earwen exclaimed. 'That poor boy is already crushed by guilt. And it looks suspicious, Aranya is no fool- in her eyes, since when did Kyelaeron ever know of and care for fashion?'

'Good point.' Ara frowned.

Tanwë remained quiet for a moment, waging an internal battle. Finally she mumbled 'I could... see what I could do...'

All heads in the room turned to her. 'Sorry what?' Findis asked.

Tanwë sighed. 'Moryo... he taught me everything there is to know about sewing, weaving, embroidery, and the likes... I might not be as talented as the other dressmakers, but I would be able to make an acceptable dress for the Ball, and also not be afraid to tell Siofra that she will have to at least compromise a little on whatever designs she has in her head...'

Tanwë's proposition was greeted with murmurs of approval.

'Are you sure you have the time, moina?' Nerdanel asked, concerned.

Tanwë nodded. 'I could do with a distraction from the tedious planning. In fact, I'll go see the troublemaker herself now, if that's alright with all of you...'

SsSsSsSSsSsSSsSsSSsSssS

Siofra found herself in the palace again. This time however, it was no secret she was there. She and the other finalists had been invited to have their measurements taken and outfits designed for the Aráto Ball, where they would be guests of honour.

They all had private fitting rooms, so Aranya was on her own. She was also growing impatient. Apparently Kyelaeron had finished his fitting, and was waiting for her outside the palace.

Kye, I'm bored Aranya sighed through their bond.

She received no sympathy. Anya, you know it's your own fault you're still in there! Kyelaeron laughed.

I didn't like any of the dresses they wanted to put me in! She protested. What else was I supposed to do?

You think I love the tight fitting, uncomfortable and over-the-top rig-out they plan to put me in? Kyelaeron questioned. Anya, we are not in the woods, these styles are never going to be to our taste! Just go with it and we might have time to spar before dinner!

NO! This is the first time I have ever been in a ballgown... and quite probably the last! Aranya hmmphed. 'And I want it to be PERFECT!'

Alright, I give up. Kyelaeron sighed. Like the five dressmakers you dismissed!

Aranya snorted. Some people just have no artistic vision!

Kyelaeron laughed. You speak as though you are the seamstress and them the mere Hunter!

I am VERY ARTISTIC KYELAERON!... Oh wait someone's at the door, it must be dressmaker number six.

Eru help them! Kyelaeron replied, before ending the osanwë conversation.

Siofra watched the door open, anticipating what face she would have to fight with next.

She was not expecting a familiar one.

'TANWE!' She cried happily and pulled the nís into an unexpected hug.

To give Tanwë credit, she tried to smother her wince as she felt her ribs almost crushed, but eventually she had to break the embrace. She held Siofra at arm's length and could not help the small smile that broke out on her face at the young nís' giddy expression. 'Well Siofra, I hear you have been breaking the hearts of Tirion's dressmakers today...'

'In my defence, they were obviously not very good dressmakers if they could not accommodate a few simple alterations I wished for.' Siofra pouted.

'I think the problem was not their ability, more their bravery.' Tanwë confirmed. 'What you requested was not in style, and therefore their reputations were at risk. The Ball is such a big event that should one of their designs not be taken seriously such a mishap would be remembered for years.'

'Well I don't care about what is in style and what's not...' Aranya crossed her arms and scowled the same way Írissë used to, and Tanwë experienced a feeling of deja-vu. '...This is my first time wearing a dress and I refuse for my first dress to be something I do not like!'

'Alright, alright!' Tanwë snapped, before taking a composing breath. 'Look, I understand that this is a big deal to you, and I will do my best to accommodate your wishes in the design. But you have to remember that you will be the royal family's guest of honour, that they are financing this dress, and that this is Tirion, and whether or not you care for fashion trends, you are representing all of your fellow Hunters, and if you respect and care for that honour, you should look your best according to Tirion standards. Do you see where I'm coming from?'

'Hmmmmph.' Siofra's arms remained crossed but her scowl lessened to something more neutral, which Tanwë accepted as a 'yes'.

'Good.' Tanwë declared triumphantly. 'Now shall we start?'

'Start what?' Curiosity defeated Siofra's sulking.

'I am going to be making your dress, Siofra.' Tanwë smirked.

Siofra's jaw dropped to the floor.

'YOU CAN MAKE DRESSES TOO? What are you like a Vala in disguise? How are you so good at EVERYTHING!'

'What do you mean?' Tanwë looked puzzled.

Siofra shot her a look as if stating the answer was obvious. 'Good enough with numbers to become an accountant, and not any accountant, THE ACCOUNTANT OF THE ROYAL FAMILY! Skilled enough at fighting to WIN THE BIGGEST TOURNAMENT IN AMAN! And creative enough to PLAN THE PROCEEDING ARÁTO GAMES! And now, as though all of that was not enough she tells me she is TALENTED ENOUGH AT SEWING TO CREATE A DRESS FOR THE ARÁTO BALL! Girl, what other talents are you hiding?'

Tanwë snorted. 'I don't think someone has called me 'girl' since the Years of the Trees. And I guess I like to keep busy...'

'Hello high achiever. Do you have time for fun?' Siofra raised an eyebrow.

'Work is fun.'

'Bullshit.'

'I drink.'

'With Friends? Or alone?'

'All my friends left in the flight. Nothing seems all that fun anymore.' Tanwë sighed and rolled her eyes at the pity that she saw in Aranya's expression. 'I'm not in the mood for dwelling on the past today. Come, tell me everything you want in this dress, I will draw a sketch and then, the hard part, you will have to compromise certain parts of it, so that it fits into what is stylish.'

'Okay!' Aranya clapped her hands together. 'Firstly, I want it cropped in the middle. I refuse to cover my torso, when I do I feel constricted...'

Ai! what have I gotten myself into? Tanwë thought to herself as she began to draw, eyes wide.

sSsSsSSsSSsSs

'Do you remember our mother?'

The question caught her completely off- guard. A subject she never allowed herself to even think about, let alone speak.

It was something he never spoke of before either, even in his past life. Never ever. And young as she was back then, she knew it was wise not to ask.

They had sat here for hours, almost in their own world. Talking. Just talking. About little things, like the weather and the city. Nostalgic things, funny moments and daring, sometimes idiotic things both had done in their childhood days. And also painful things, like family.

Anairë didn't remember her mother.

She shook her head solemnly, not missing the pain her brother tried to hide behind his eyes.

Káno nodded at her response, eyes darting a little, before he muttered 'You look the spitting image of her...'

A strange whirl of emotion pulsed through Anairë's chest. She did not know what to did not know what sort of a person her mother was. Was being in likeness to her a good or a bad thing?

Anairë supposed there was only one way to find out... She hugged her knees to her chest.

'What was she like...?' Her question came out more desperate than she had intended.

Káno remained silent for a moment, staring at the floor. And for a moment Anairë prayed he would tell her that her mother was a horrible person, someone cruel, someone she could just let go of, never give another thought to. Someone she would not have to hurt and grieve over and wonder what life would have been like had things been different.

She knew by the way he was acting that was not the case.

'She was...' Káno began hesitantly. '...the most lovely lady. Warm and kind. You know we never had alot, but, she made home feel happy and safe, even if it wasn't in reality. Her hugs were the best...'

Anairë paused for a moment, question on the tip of the tongue, feeling the stab of pain as she wondered what could have been.

'What happened to her... ?'

Káno inhaled deeply, eyes flashing in anger 'She was... troubled. Her and... Atar came from Cuiviénen. I didn't understand when I was a boy but then the tapestries told me everything, and suddenly so many things from our childhood made sense...'

'Tell me...' Anairë noticed his distress, and softly placed her hand on his forearm.

Her action seemed to wake Káno up, because he jumped, eyes widening, before clapping his mouth. 'I should NOT be telling you this! You almost faded! The last thing you need is more sad stories! I'll tell you another time, Ana.'

'Káno.' Anairë spoke in her most demanding voice. 'Look at me, I am NOT going anywhere! Not when you are here! Tell me, I can take it, and perhaps telling it will ease your mind also.'

Káno crossed his arms and smirked, humour returning. 'You are very very stubborn and demanding, nésa.'

'I wonder who I picked that up from?' Anairë laughed. 'Káno, if I can handle all I have learnt about my children then I can handle this. Please, I... I never knew what to even imagine our parents to be like! Tell me!'

But all Káno did was shake his head, before pulling a protesting Anairë into an embrace, and kissing her forehead. 'Ana...' He whispered softly. '...I promise that as soon as you are recovered I will tell you. But not now. Eru Findis would kill me if I told her I woke you up only to make you fade again by telling you some tragic family history!'

Anairë pouted in a child-like expression she had not worn for years. Her brother laughed.

'You need to rest, nésa.' Káno tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Anairë sat up straighter, shaking her head. 'I'm not tired.'

'Ana...' Káno shot her a pointed look, the same firm but humoured look he used when she misbehaved as a child.

'No one has called me 'Ana' since you...' Anairë remarked.

'Lies!' Káno smirked so wide it covered half his face. 'Your darling Nolo did!'

'You know, the fact that you know literally everything about my private life is getting a tad annoying!' Anairë rolled her eyes.

'Mmhmm' Káno replied.'I have plenty of leverage on you. '

'So do you approve of Nolo? Did you approve back when we were married? I was always extremely curious as to what your stance would have been on your little nésa being wedded.' Anairë questioned, arms crossed.

'Well, even if I hadn't wanted you to marry him I couldn't have stopped you. Both of you were head over heels. It was kind of cute really. But whatever you told Nolo of me must have left an impression, because he was half afraid of me the brief time I met him in the Halls...'

Anairë laughed. 'I may have told him once that you would have threatened the wrath of Eru on him should he break my heart, and then beat him up!'

Káno shook his head. 'Wow, nésa, depicting me as violent as a means of threatening Nolo yourself! Actually, I had planned on acting all 'hurt my sister and I'll end you' towards Nolo when I finally met him, but when I did I was too worried about you for any teasing.'

'Are they alright? Arakáno, Írissë, Findékano and Nolo? Do they... do they still feel pain from what was done to them? Form what they suffered?' Anairë questioned.

Kánp sighed and shot her a small smile. Anairë had asked that question with slightly altered wording at least twenty times since the conversation began. He told her the same answer.

'They are fine. They do not feel physical pain, and their spiritual wounds are healing. They have each other. They watch you every day. They love you, miss you and cannot wait to see you again. They want you to be happy, and not worry for them. Though I think the latter is impossible.'

'Aye...' Anairë whispered, hugging her knees again. 'A mother will never stop worrying for her children.'

Káno placed a hand on her shoulder. 'Now, nésa. Please, rest.

'Káno, remember when-...'

'I know you are trying to change the subject again! And I know you are afraid to sleep, afraid that I will be gone when you awaken. I am here nésa, I am not going anywhere, like yourself.' Káno stated firmly.

'Káno, I've just got you back, I... I can't lose you!' Anairë suddenly sobbed. 'I don't want to go to sleep!'

'I promise I will be here when you wake up.' Káno swore. 'And I'll wreck your head so much you'll wish I was back in the Halls!'

'Prove it, that you will be here after...'

Káno sighed and paused for a moment in thought. He then smirked again. 'I can't give you anything other than my word that I will be here, but if that is not enough, very well, stay awake. And we can talk about that very 'unladylike' piece of body art you have covering your back! I personally have nothing against tattoos, nésa, but, in hindsight, was it not a bit too much? Y'know the phoenix idea sounds very badass at first but as the years went by did it begin to feel a little cringe? What did Nolo think of it? I bet he liked-... OOF!'

Anairë, with a newfound strength acquired from frustration, promptly flung a pillow between her brother's ribs.

'FINE! You win! I'll go to sleep! I know if I was only dreaming of you, you wouldn't be so annoying!' Anairë pouted, before throwing her head down onto the pillows.

Káno only laughed, before tucking her in. 'Sweet dreams little phoenix!'

Anairë turned her back to him, not impressed.

Káno waited until she was asleep, before slowly getting up from the bed and forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other.

Nienna had told him he needed to rest, but he had spent the last age resting. Now was time to live...

I'll just have a quick explore of the palace, I need to be back for when nésa wakes up. He told himself.

He did not take into account the fact that wherever he went, trouble always seemed to follow...

sSsSSssSSSSSSssss

Siofra remained in the palace far longer than she had intended, even past dinner time. Kyelaeron eventually returned to camp alone.

Tanwë would never have dreamed that a simple sketch could take so long...

That being said, neither of the níssi were bored, in fact, the hours flew by simply because they were enjoying themselves so much.

Siofra threw every expectation and demand and idea she could possibly conjure at Tanwë, who dismissed the impossible designs and added the details that would work nicely.

They discussed possible materials, and more often than not Tanwë would end up laughing at Siofra's unintended natural humour- the girl really had no clue as to what social norms were, and that was wonderful.

When the sketch was finally finished, and both model and designer satisfied with the finished product, Tanwë felt her breath hitch as she realised that Siofra had not conjured her ideal designs from thin air.

She had conjured them from memory...

'Well... what do you think?' Aranya crossed her arms and smirked, holding in excited squeals and resembling her Atar greatly.

Tanwë looked at the parchment for a moment longer, before smiling a genuine smile and placing a caring hand on her niece's shoulder.

'You know, if one studied all the fashion trends since Cuiviénen, they would see a pattern. Older, classic styles always come back into trend every few hundred years. In all honesty, Siofra, I think this dress could mark the start of a new trend, a look based on the styles that were around about five hundred years ago. I... I really love this dress, it reminds me of my youth and... the people I spent it with. Well done girl-.. OOF!'

Tanwë had not finished speaking before she was assaulted by a fierce Aranya hug.

She was shocked but not surprised to feel shaking sobs on her shoulder. She rubbed circles into Siofra's back and let the girl cry for a moment.

When she was ready, Siofra pulled away, wiped her eyes, and laughed.

'You alright moina?' Tanwe asked.

Siofra nodded and smiled. 'Thank you, you have no idea how much... I'm just... I can't wait to wear this! It's-...its just so... pretty.'

Tanwë knew exactly who Siofra was indirectly referring to, even if the young nís had not intended to make such a reference...

'Well, you are a very beautiful nís Siofra, inside and out. It only makes sense you have a pretty dress!' Tanwë gazed at the sketch again and found herself lost in nostalgia.

'I better get going I guess, the sun has already set.' Siofra murmured. 'Thank you again Tanwë!'

'It was fun. The most fun I've had in a long time.' Tanwë replied honestly.

Siofra smirked and practically bounded out the door.

Tanwë had barely time to take a breath before the door was flung open again, Siofra emerging with wide eyes.

'Ai! THE COLOUR! I almost forgot!' She exclaimed in panic.

Tanwë shook her head 'And here's me thinking you might actually let me choose for you... But really Siofra, I think there is only one colour that will be perfect for this design...'

'Which colour?' Siofra raised an eyebrow and Tanwë could see her bracing to fight for the shade she wanted.

But Tanwë knew what that colour was. She smiled sadly. 'White...'

The mix of relief, excitement and longing in Siofra's expression was heartbreaking.

'That's the colour I wanted.' She whispered, full of memory.

sSSsSsSssSSSSssss

Káno wandered around the palace, in slight awe of the finery, though he would never admit such.

His hands kept twitching every time he passed an object of value, he supposed old habits died hard. It took much willpower not to steal anything, and remind himself that, since his sister was now a princess, he probably never go hungry again.

It also took much willpower to simply keep walking, as he realised Nienna had not exaggerated when she told him he would be weak as a cat for a while after re-embodiment. He shook it off, as stubborn and determined as his sister.

He managed to avoid the guards and servants, and luckily did not run into any of his royal in-laws. He really did not have the energy to introduce himself today...

He sighed as he realised he needed to go back to Anairë's room and sit down. Frustrated but determined, he placed one foot in front of the other and made for the direction of her chambers.

He heard the footsteps bounding around the corner, and tried with all his might to leap out of the way...

Too late...

'AAAAGGHAAA!'

'OOF!'

He was not expecting to be floored by no other than Siofra Aranya, the exact same way Anairë had first met her granddaughter a few days before.

'AI ERU I AM SO SO SORRY! I HAVE TO STOP RUNNING IN THE PALACE! ANAIRË WAS RIGHT I AM LIKE A WILD ANIMAL I-...'

'Woah! Easy, it's alright, I've had worse knocks than this.' Káno murmured, knocked flat on his back.

Gazing across from him, Káno fully registered that the young nís sat on the floor, rubbing her back was a relative of his.

'Siofra Aranya...' He muttered groggily, rubbing his bruising face.

'Oh no! You're hurt!' Here, let me help you up! ' Aranya leapt up and pulled him to his feet.

Káno cursed his new body for swaying once she let go of him, and cursed Aranya's eyes for being so observant.

'You need healers! I've given you a concussion! I'M SO SORRY!'

Káno could not bear the how stressed and guilty she appeared. 'NO! I swear I'm fine I'm just... I'm just tired. I'm going to go... take a nap...'

He put everything he had into his stride as he walked away.

He made it a grand total of two paces, before he fell flat on his face.

'AI VALAR!' Siofra knelt down and checked him over. 'I'm getting the healers.'

'No!' Káno shook his head. 'Aranya, I'm fine I just... If I tell you where to go will you help me-...'

'I'll take it from here, Siofra.' A new voice entered the conversation. 'Don't worry, you did not hurt him, Káno here has only just been released from Mandos and yet, it appears, is refusing to rest and let himself get better. Stubborn, sounds familiar...'

'Uhhh... Lady...?' Aranya questioned.

'Findis' Káno answered, a slight cringe in his voice as he pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing he was in for a smug scolding.

'Indeed.' Findis bowed her head. 'Pleasure to finally meet you Siofra.'

Siofra barely heard the end of Findis' words. She had been staring Káno out of it from the moment she heard he had been in Mandos.

'You were in Mandos...? Like, recently?' She asked solemnly, voice half feared, half awed.

Káno nodded, and gulped, and not-so-discreetly shot Findis a look for help out of the hole she had dug him into.

Siofra wasted no time in asking for her loved ones. 'Was there anyone there who looked like me? A ner. Or was there a nís with dark hair and blue eyes and ahhh... was there anyone called Curvo?' She spoke very fast, with a rather demanding tone.

'Uhhh... I don't remember anyone who looked like you...' Káno answered as carefully as possible.

'They were hunters!' Siofra was not accepting such a vague answer. 'I don't even know if they are dead, but I hate not knowing what happened to them!'

'Uhh... the only hunter I met was my niece...' Káno tried to force his groggy mind to keep up the charade.

What was her name?' Siofra demanded, before narrowing her eyes. Wait a minute... you look... familiar.'

Káno decided now was a very good time to faint. Findis rolled her eyes at his dramatics.

'Ai!' Aranya fell for the act. 'I've made him faint! I'm sorry! Again.' She looked to Findis.

'It's his own fault.' Findis replied. 'He shouldn't even be awake, never mind walking. I'm tempted to leave him there.' She lilted her voice ever so slightly, so Káno would hear the scolding undertones. 'Leave it to me, moina. Go on, I am sure you are very busy with your preparations for the Ball.'

'Sorry again! Bye Indis!' Siofra bounded off again, the same pace she had been running previously.

She did not make it very far before she was spinning on her heel again, mouth opening and closing again, hesitant to speak. She had a question she was afraid to ask.

Findis knew that expression. Nolo always used to do that, when he had a question he was afraid to ask. It used to drive Fëanáro mad, leading to many frustared 'OUT WITH IT's followed by stubborn 'Nevermind's.

'Do you have a question, Siofra?' Findis prompted gently.

Aranya didn't need to be prompted twice. She nodded towards Káno. 'He looks very much like Lady Anairë. I met her a few days ago and she was very kind and helped me with... something. I was just wondering if she is alright? I didn't see her at the Trial and I had a funny feeling something was wrong...'

Findis let out an internal breath she had not realised she had been holding. At least I can answer that without having to be too creative!.

She smiled gently. 'Káno is Anairë's brother, Siofra. He died when Anairë was young, but was released the day of your trial. I am sure she is sorry she missed your success, but she was busy catching up on lost time.'

Siofra's expression was the definition of relief. She clearly had been worried for her grandmother. 'Oh that's good! Tell her I'm very happy for her! I'm glad she is okay! Anyway, sorry again- bye!'

Aranya bounded off at the same speed she had been running in the first place.

Findis shook her head, before crouching down to Káno, tone smug. 'What are you doing, trying to prove yourself more stubborn than the entire House of Finwë combined?'

'Of all the people who had to encounter that unfortunate incident, why did it have to be you- Indis.' Káno moaned, rubbing his forehead as he dragged himself onto his honkers.

Findis dragged him up and let him lean on her shoulder. 'I would leave you there, but if there is one person I do not want against me it is Anairë. I'll take you back to her chambers for now, and I'll have the servants prep a room for you.'

'Nice. I've never had my own room before!' Káno's voice betrayed genuine excitement.

Findis hid her pity well.

Káno looked over his shoulder, to be certain Aranya was out of earshot, before he commented. 'Well nothing gets past her! Eru when she started describing Íreth I wished the ground would swallow me! And was that foresight she casually mentioned possessing, when she had a feeling something was wrong with Anairë?'

'I guess it runs in the family.' Findis shrugged. 'Nice one fainting and leaving me to deal with the questions!'

'Yeah, well thanks for throwing me under the wagon by mentioning I came from Mandos!' Káno shot back.

'I didn't think she would ask for her parents.' Findis sighed. 'She really misses them, doesn't she?'

'She was their whole world before the world turned to shit, they both adored her. That stare though, demanding I tell her the answers- I thought I was back in Mandos again with Írissë telling me things to do!'

Findis halted in the middle of the corridor, just about steadying Káno before he fell. 'I can't believe Írissë is dead...' she whispered.

Káno dawned a sympathetic expression. 'You okay?' He questioned.

Findis shook her head. 'Írissë, Findékáno, Arakáno, Findaráto, Angaráto, Aikanáro, Pityo... They were only kids. They didn't deserve to be misled to their horrific fates...' Her eyes flashed for a moment, and her voice trembled a little. 'I loved Nolo and Feanáro so much it hurts, but how could they have been so stupid and reckless as to endanger their children in such a manner? And I know Ara regrets it but he should have brought his children home with him! It would have saved them so much pain and sorrow! I know they were not all innocent but, I don't know, it just seems so unfair!'

'Life is unfair. Eru only knows why.' Káno sighed. 'We just have to make the best of it.'

'I should have tried harder with Fëanáro. We had a special bond, I might have been able to make him see sense. I should have for once been outspoken and not tried to solve things from behind the scenes...'

Káno looked to Findis for a moment, deep in thought. 'You feel guilty, don't you?'

'I just think I could have done more. I should have talked to Fëanáro.' Findis replied bitterly.

Káno spoke thoughtfully. 'I remember when the skies grew dark. Those of us in the Halls were terrified for our loved ones, and we watched the tapestries intently. I was worried for Ana, obviously, so I saw a fair amount of what was going on in the palace. I don't think anyone could have talked Fëanáro out of it, not even Finwë's ghost, he was too far gone, Findis. And if I recall correctly, you did try!'

'I told him it was a bad idea while also planning his route across the sea!' Findis protested.

'If you hadn't planned it someone else would have.'

'I should have gone with my siblings. At the very least I would have been able to stop the shipburning!'

'He would have made sure you went with his host, and then proceeded to burn the ships anhyway. You wouldn't have had time to dissuade him, Fëanáro didn't even have time to count to seven that day!'

'NOT FUNNY KÁNO!'

'I swear that was one of Pityo's own jokes.'

'Well whatever about the boats, surely I could have stopped some of the ridiculous tragedies that happened across the sea. Like what was Nolo doing taking on Morgoth alone? I would have dragged him by his ears away!'

'Or you might have got hit with an arrow at Alqualondë, and had the pleasure of meeting me much sooner!'

Findis shot Káno a 'not-impressed' look. 'You are very annoying.'

Káno raised his palms. 'Just pointing out the flaws in your brooding logic. There was nothing more you could have done.'

Findis sighed angrily. 'I know it's just... my siblings... they were all idiots. But they were my idiots. I guess I will always feel like I should have been there for them.'

'I know the feeling.' Káno commented. 'Siblings are complicated.'

'I don't know whether I want to strangle or hug the three that are gone, if ever we are reunited!' Findis shook her head. 'As I said, idiots.'

'Well I think I have proven myself idiotic enough to fill in for them until that day arrives.' Káno teased, smirk planted on his face.

'Indeed you have.' Findis laughed at that.

'So, are you going to give me a slap on the wrist or something for being out and about?' Káno teased after a moment. 'Throw a few smug comments or scolding words my way?'

Findis smiled sweetly. 'No.'

Káno's expression turned suspicious. 'Why does that not sound reassuring?'

Findis kept smiling. 'Because, dear Káno, when your sister sees the black eye you have acquired in the short time she was sleeping, you are going to get far worse than any scolding I could give you!'

Findis' smirk widened as Káno visibly blanched.

'The joys of siblings eh?'

sSSsSsSsSSsSssSssSssSsSSs

Gondolin, First Age 505...

Lómion hated Balls.

They were a chore.

They were incredibly boring.

They were a waste of time that could be more productively and enjoyably spent in the forge, or outside for that matter.

The Gates of Summer celebration was a feast he thought ridiculous more than anything. He had stood outside with the rest of the kingdom from midnight to dawn, rolled his eyes at the over-entusiastic choir at daybreak, before escaping for a brief few glorious hours of solitude in the forge, before his presence was demanded again for this unnecessary party.

The vibrant colours of the excessive decorations and clothing hurt his eyes- sensitive to such light even on a dull day. The noise of cutlery scraping off plates mixed with stupid small talk and fake laughs gave him a headache. And he couldn't even enjoy the food, because it was far too spicy for his bland taste.

So he simply sat and scowled, and reluctantly sipped his wine.

What a disappointment Gondolin had turned out to be...

The joys of the King being your uncle. His attendance at this pathetic celebration was non-negotiable. And negotiated he had, to no avail. Turgon had simply tousled his nephew's hair and told him he was just like her.

No wonder she ran away from this bullshit. Lómion could not help but think, despite the fact that thinking about her always felt like a dagger in his heart.

Anar's light gleamed through the windows at golden hour, outshining all of the guests and their jewels and finery. And for a moment, all Lómion could see was golden light.

He pretended he was outside the gates as he often was, finding respite in the trees.

All too soon the sun had set, and his little daydream was over.

You're mind is not here, Lómi. That melodic voice whispered in his head, amused. He discreetly slid his eyes across the table, to Itarillë, who caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow, smirking. And for a moment it was like nothing had changed between the two of them, and that they were still as close as they had once been.

Lómion tried to ignore the jealousy and resentment he held towards the man at her side, and tried to forget how far apart he had drifted from the only person alive who even remotely understood him.

Physically I am here. Lómion replied to her, scowl softening to a neutral expression... Mentally, I am up a tree. It is quiet and peaceful and I am watching the sunset and listening to the tree's song.

Itarillë laughed, and to those around her it seemed a response to some joke a servant had made, but Lómion knew she had directed it at him.

Tree rat. She teased.

What did you expect me to be dreaming about? Dancing?

Itarillë let out a very unladylike snort, which this time had no explanation for anyone who wasn't Lómion. Lómion smirked in response. Itarillë knew that if there was one thing in the world he would never ever be good at, it was dancing.

Well Itarillë replied. I may have a way you can escape this feast... But there is a price...

That certainly grabbed Lómion's full attention.

Nothing can be worse than this... I'll do anything, just tell me how to escape...

You have to put Earendil to bed.

Not a chance.

Lómi!

Itarillë! You know I am no good with kids!

The only child you've ever met is Earendil!

Exactly!

He adores you.

That's a lie. We both know I am far from a doting uncle figure in his life.

I know! You're the worst. But for some reason, it's always you he wants to spend time with, despite the many doting Lords he has wrapped around his finger.

Wonderful. Just when I thought I was scaring him off!

Lómion! That is MY SON you are talking about, and if you are mean to him again I will not be turning a blind eye!

I think avoidance until he is of age is the only way that's going to happen...

YOU ARE NOT THE ONE WHO HAS TO DEAL WITH THE TEARS! Please, Lómi. Just try this evening to be civil with the three year old... Is that too much to ask?

Yes.

You get to leave this ball if you do it...

Now I'm just conflicted. But if I stay here at least I don't have to answer a million questions at once...

Please, Lómi. For me...

Lómion sighed. And looked over to those pleading baby blue eyes.

He knew he would never be able to refuse her anything.

Hence, Lómion graciously dismissed himself from the ball with his three-year-old cousin clinging to his leg.

He did not miss the looks from the nobles, his fellow Lords, Tuor and even Turgon. They obviously didn't trust him with the child, he was too insensitive and uncaring. He was too wild, too mysterious, too ill-tempered...

...Too dark.

He resembles his father in more than looks. They would whisper. He cannot be trusted...

Sometimes Lómion wanted to scream at their wildly inaccurate impressions, and proceed to tear this accursed city to the ground. But that would only prove them right, prove that he was a monster, just like... he shuddered... Eol.

So instead Lómion would escape to the comforting darkness of his mind- his dark memories of those dark days. To relive them was so painful there were times he felt like collapsing on the ground and fading. But he could not- never. Because she had died so he could live. As miserable as he was, he would not waste her final sacrifice...

The memories were agonising. If there was one thing worse than being tortured it is having to watch and listen to it happen to your loved ones, as you stand by helpless. But through these memories Lómion found the proof he needed to reassure himself that those idiots of the Gondolin court were wrong. He was not a bad person. He had inner demons, he was far from the typical polite and chivalrous Lord, he lost his cool in the courtroom far too often, especially when a certain human was getting on his nerves- but he was certainly not evil, not a monster, nothing like him.

He had cared for her, looked after her and protected her to the best of his ability. He learned what herbs were best for healing bruises and burns, and he would bring them to her. He made sure she ate her meals, even when she felt so weak and sick to her stomach. He worked like an ant in the forge, learning everything he could, excelling, becoming a distraction when his work became so fine it even impressed his father. A distraction from her. Any time his father spent proudly showing him secret skills, spells and techniques in the smithy was time he was not hurting her.

How dare anyone call him insensitive and careless? They just did not understand what it had been like in Nan Elmoth.

He wished she was here. She would understand.

Lómion didn't dare dwell too long on the day he was orphaned. Especially when this pathetic child was still clinging to his leg.

'Uncle Lómi?' That irritating mixed accent of the bilingual toddler dragged him away from his tragic musings.

'I am not you're uncle! How many times do I have to explain it to you child?' Lómion snapped.

Earendil did not so much as flinch, and remained clinging to his leg. 'Lómi I don't want to go to bed!'

'Well you have to.'

'Why?'

'Because that's why.'

'What's why?'

'That's why.'

'WHAT'S WHY?!'

Lómion could have gone on, until the two of them were screaming at each other, but he knew he only had so long before their voices would reach the ball. So instead, he gave the child an answer. 'Because you are half human. And humans need more sleep than elves.'

But Earendil even had an answer and a question in response to that. 'Then why isn't my Atar in bed?'

Lómion rolled his eyes and could not resist. 'Because he is an idiot.'

'What's an idiot?'

'Ask your mother.'

'I want to go back to the party! I'm not even tired.' Earendil pouted quite adorably, annoyed.

'Well I would give anything to be able to leave the party when it was my bedtime.' Lómion sighed, and dragged Earendil in the direction of his bedroom.

'Wait Lómi! Can we go to the balcony first?' The child pointed to the ledge overlooking the city. A spectacular view, especially on this starry night.

'No!' Lómion refused, dragging the child a little harder.

'Why not?!' Earendil pleaded.

'Because I'd be too tempted to throw you off it.' Lómion muttered, hoping that would scare the boy into going to bed.

It had the opposite effect. Earendil burst into giggles. 'You're funny!'

'I was being serious!' Lómion crossed his arms and frowned, not enjoying serving as Earendil's entertainment.

'You would never throw me off there!' Earendil insisted, still smiling.

'What makes you think that?' Lómion raised an eyebrow.

'Because you're a good person.' Earendil stated matter-of-factly, with the simple logic of a child.

Lómion tried to ignore the force of emotion that rushed through him with that simple statement.

He looked down at the child before him. He was his mother's son alright, he saw in Lómion what others could not... And only now did Lómion truly realise such.

And yet, I cannot shake the resentment I feel towards this innocent child. What is wrong with me...?

Many things...

Despite what many believe, I do not begrudge Earendil because I despise his father... People ought to realise that me of all people would not judge someone for who their father was...

Why can't I let go of this loathing? Why can't I accept another friend, even if he is only three? Eru knows I need one!

Awakening from his daydream, Lómion realised he had lost Earendil. Cursing his distraction, it did not take him long to find the boy. He had gone to the balcony. His tiny hands clenched the railing, and he stood on his tippy-toes and craned his neck, as though he was trying to reach the stars.

Lómion shook his head. He recalled doing the same thing when he was a child...

And that was when Lómion found his answer.

Earendil reminded Lórmion of his childhood self. But Earendil, unlike Lómion, had everything a child could ever want or need. Earendil was happy.

Lómion resented Earendil because he was a mirror to what his childhood could have been like, if things were different. If his father was different.

I could have been happy, just like him... Lómion realised, and for a moment allowed himself to wallow in jealousy and self-pity.

When the moment had passed, he looked down at Earendil still trying to make himself taller, and an impulsive urge came over him.

'Ugh, I am going to regret this' he muttered as he picked Earendil up and threw him...

...onto his shoulders.

Lómion fought his own face with all his might to prevent a smile breaking out as Earendil squealed so excitedly one would swear Lómion had given him a year of begetting days.

'I'm so close to the stars!' Earendil exclaimed. 'I can almost touch them!'

'You've a bit of growing to do yet before you're touching the sky.' Lómion remarked.

'Someday I am going to go to the stars!' Earendil insisted.

'Good riddance.' Lómion shot back.

Earendil yawned in response. Lómion took that as his cue to carry the child to bed. He put the covers over his cousin as carelessly as possible, because Eru forbid the human think that he cared.

Earendil was quiet, and Lómion made to leave.

He was about to step out the door when...

'WAIT!' Earendil jumped up in the bed, knocking all the carelessly strewn covers off.

'What?' Lómion asked, alarmed. 'Don't you dare tell me you are afraid of the dark.'

'I didn't get a bedtime story!' Earendil whinged.

Lómion took a deep breath, and resisted the urge to slam his head against the wall. How spoilt was this child? Lómion had done everything for him this evening and it still appeared to not be enough.

'No.' Lómion shook his head, voice firm. 'You don't need a bedtime story to sleep.'

'Yes I do!'

'You're just telling yourself that!. Just, glaze your eyes or close your eyes or whatever it is you do to sleep and sleep will come naturally!'

'No it won't!'

'It will! I don't need stories to sleep!'

'Well I'm only little...'

'WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE-...' Lómion cut himself off before a long list of horrific experiences escaped his mouth. And yet...

...And yet, even in that horible, tragic place, Lómion still had bedtime stories. Just like Earendil. She would tell them to him. It was their time together. It was her way of teaching Lómion about the world, about his true family...

Lómion remembered a time in his childhood where he too could not get to sleep without a story...

'Alright...' Lómion gave in. 'But just this once. And you are to not tell a soul of what I tell you, or else I will never speak to you again, do you understand?'

'Yes.' Earendil nodded resolutely. 'I swear...'

'Very well.' Lómion sighed, knowing that in an hour or two he would wonder what in the world came over him that he told his little nemesis a story so personal and close to his heart.

'In Oromë's Woods, in Valinor, there lives a girl who can speak to all manner of birds and beasts...'

SssSsSsSSsSsSssSsSSs

Meanwhile, at the Gates of Summer ball...

Once the feast was over, the dancing began. The formality and protocol and table etiquette was allowed to slip, as guests wandered table to table, looking for dance partners, many young ellons and elleths seizing their opportunity to dance with those they fancied.

Others wandered around the room seeking merry company, a little gossip and chat perhaps.

And some just regrouped with their old friends, as tables were sorted by house, and there were many close bonds that extended beyond such confines.

'My Lord, might I have this dance...?'

The recipient was halted in his journey across the hall by a polite but confident voice. Looking down, very far down in this scenario, he was met by an insistent pair of hazel eyes, and a pretty face on which was planted a smirk.

Shaking his head, Ecthelion shot the girl an apologetic smile. 'You know I have two left feet, Gwael.'

She took a step closer, very discreetly, but he saw. Her intentions were clear...

He was getting too old for this. Surely there were plenty of other younger neri for these ladies to pursue?

'I heard...' Gwael whispered. '...that you are in fact, quite the dancer. Atar told me so...'

You're Atar would literally kill me if I so much as humoured your flirtation. Ecthelion could not help but think to himself. But not if I kill Duilin first for telling you about my dancing days...

Waking up from his internal rant, as he noticed Gwael had taken yet another step closer to him, Ecthelion laughed and took a step back. 'I think your Atar was merely mocking me there, moina. I don't dance. But you know who loves dancing? Glorfindel. You should ask him!'

'He's very much taken for tonight, my Lord.' Gwael rolled her eyes as it became clear she would not get her dance and nodded in the direction Ecthelion been headed.

However Ecthelion couldn't see Laurë. Alll he saw was a group of níssi...

His otorno obviously needed saving, badly.

As nicely as possible taking his leave of Gwael, Ecthelion briskly walked over to where Glorfindel had last been seen. As tempting as it was to leave his otorno there, Ecthelion could not ignore the many pleading looks he was currently receiving for dances much longer. There was strength in numbers when it came to rejecting.

As he got closer, he began to hear laurë, even if he still could not see him.

'…so, as much as I would love to dance with you all I am afraid the night is only so long, and I get bored dancing after a while you see. Thus, out of fear of hurting any of you lovely elleths by rejecting your dance requests, I have decided I will not dance with any of you. But do you know who will, he's a great dancer, don't believe a word he says when he claims to have two left feet, my otorno-…'

'Otorno!' Ecthelion cleared his throat and several heads turned his direction. He shot Laurë a warning look. 'Sorry to interrupt, but we have very important council matters to discuss!'

Laurë's eyes brightened in a manner that was so relieved there was no way any sort of council work would trigger such an expression. 'Ah yes, it almost slipped my mind.' Laurë answered, catching the charade. 'There is much work to be done. No rest for the weary!'

The amount of protests was overwhelming.

'But the GATES OF SUMMER!'

'Not even our King is working now!'

'What do you have to discuss?'

'Surely it can wait until tommorrow!'

Before either of them knew it, they had both been backed into the wall, answers demanded from left, right and centre.

Shooting each other a look, they decided it was time to pull their most desperate trick…

'LADIES! LADIES! I beg you! We must take our leave now!' Glorfindel exclaimed. 'Or else our houses shall be ruined!'

More questions…

'Well Lord Glorfindel…' Ecthelion spoke, voice rising above the girls. '…If you insist on not negotiating right now, I am afraid I will have no choice but to report you to King Turgon at dawn!'

More very confused questions…

'What do you mean like, ask to have him banished?'

'But he's your otorno…'

'And your friend…'

'Do not blame Lord Ecthelion, ladies.' Glorfindel sighed dramatically. 'It is no one's fault but my own. 'You see, my lovely horse Asfaloth escaped from Lord Ecthelion's faulty stables last time I visited! But Ecthelion still seems to have the gall to blame me for three of his swans going missing. Asfaloth would never dare harm a fly!'

'There was nothing wrong with my stables, you didn't bolt your steed's door.' Ecthelion donned an angered expression and folded his arms. 'And if you refuse to compensate me I must take matters to the king!'

'Of course I would, otorno.' Glorfindel placed his hand on his forehead. 'If I were not completely broke at the moment. But the only reason I am broke is because I lent you money!'

'Which I swear I will pay back, otorno. But that does not change the fact that three of my swans are gone!' Ecthelion replied expressively, before grabbing Glorfindel's shoulders and stating. 'We need to fix this mess, or else we'll be ruined!'

Glorfindel buried his face in his hands

'It's very tragic really.' Ecthelion patted his sworn brother's back and pouted.

What really was tragic was how easily all their admirers fell for it, genuinely. Not one left because they thought the Lords' behaviour strange, they left because they believed the outrageous story. After a few apologies and reassuring words, Laurë and Ehtelë finally found themselves left alone.

'I can't believe that worked.'Ecthelion spoke, stunned. 'We mixed up the excuse stories, added in more vague and ridiculous details and acted as both enemies and friends at the same time and yet… they believed it…'

'They've only ever seen the four corners of this city, of course they believed it.' Glorfindel whispered, tone betraying his stance on the total isolation policy. 'It is more naïve they are getting. That would not have worked fifty years ago.'

'Ai! Another Gondolin problem.' Ecthelion sighed. 'Our youths are too gullible!'

'I swear even back in the Years of the Trees we were not that stupid!' Glorfindel laughed.

Ecthelion laughed too. 'Laurë, believe me, we were.'

'Hmmm I suppose…' Laurë agreed as many ridiculous nights in Tirion sprung to mind. 'Now, I think mirúvorë is long overdue.'

They found a table. The Ball continued around them.

'We didn't prank anyone this year!' Glorfindel pouted after a time. 'Damn it, I forgot!'

'We were too busy with real council duties.' Ecthelion shrugged.

'Were getting old...' Glorfindel exclaimed, voice a little slurred. 'Those girls who were flirting with us, we were old enough to be their fathers!'

'Very young fathers! Don't you go making us ancient.' Ecthelion answered, finishing his glass. 'And the joys of being immortal, we're young forever!'

'YES!' Laurë shouted. 'But seriously Thel, do you ever think of someday accepting that dance, beginning a courtship, eventually settling down? I do, sometimes. Maybe it would be nice…'

'Tried that once…' Ecthelion downed a shot straight, '…never again.'

'Same…' Laurë sighed.

'You really did love Vayelya, didn't you?' Ehtelë raised an eyebrow.

'Yeah… I think so… maybe? I don't know. Tirion seems like a different life...'

'It still hurts.' Ecthelion admitted quietly.

'I wonder what's going on in Tirion right this very moment?' Laurë pondered. 'Have things gone back to normal yet? I wonder…' He paused for a moment, and began counting with his fingers.

'What?' Ecthelion asked, curious.

'I think this year could be the Aráto year, if I'm not mistaken… Wonder who is replacing us this year? Now that is a Ball I would give anything to attend again.'

'I don't remember our Aráto Ball…' Ecthelion cringed.

'That's why I'd love to go back to it.' Laurë boomed laughing. 'Tyelkormo and Írissë got you so drunk- funniest Ball I ever attended…'

SsSSSssSsSsSsSSsSsS

Tirion, Y.T…

Tyelkormo and Írissë both hated Balls.

Parties they loved. But Balls? No way.

Balls meant uncomfortable clothes, boring feasts, protocol, manners, appearances and all those things they most certainly did not care for.

And even though this was their Aráto Ball, it was still awfully dull once the first hour or so had passed. Sure all their hunter friends were present, but they were all so constricted- there would be no wild dances or drinking games or fun here, not in the palace.

Even Oromë and Vána hadn't bothered to show up!

And so they sat at the royal table, with their fellow finalists, Laurëfindal and Ehtelë, the other side of the King.

Tyelko I'm bored. Irissë sighed, as Makalaurë belted out yet another song.

How do you think I feel? I've had to listen to him practising these songs all year! Tyelko replied.

Tyelko can we do something? Írissë pleaded.

Tyelko smirked suggestively. Under the table?

Írissë smacked him under the table for that comment . That's not what I meant you dirty-minded pleb! I mean, can we create some INNOCENT entertainment for ourselves, so we maintain our good reputation and also leave this feast via the door and not the window!

Ah I see… Tyelko replied. You wish to pull an Ambarussa…

A what?

Telvo and Pityo, they always prank us when they're bored. At events like this especially. Can't blame them. When I was a toddler I wasn't able to sit still for a minute, never mind a whole night! Tyelko smirked.

You're still not able to sit still for a minute! Írissë replied.

True.

So what scandal shall we cause in the ballroom Meldo?

They both paused for a moment, and swept their eyes around the room.

We need something subtle, they can't know it is us. That way it's even funnier,, as we get to sit back and watch our scheme unfold! Írissë insisted.

I agree. But who to prank? Tyelko questioned…

Someone at the same table as us… so we don't draw attention to ourselves by moving….

Okay. Tyelko agreed. Who at our table stands out?

Írissë scanned her eyes across and back. Ehtelë… she announced after a moment.

Tyelko raised an eyebrow. Why him?

Írissë smirked. 'Cos he's by far the best looking ner at this table!

Tyelkormo failed to conceal his highly offended expression.

Hmmmphh… you don't mean that!

Írissë giggled. Calm your tits Tyelko I'm teasing you! You are so easy to wind up! Ehtelë catches my eye because he is possibly the only person here who looks more depressed than us!

Tyelko took a discreet glance at the ner in question. I agree. But I think there is only one way to prank someone who is that level of sad and sober. And that is with this… He pulled out a very special hip flask from his trouser pocket.

Írissë gasped through their bond. IS THAT…?

Tyelko smirked. Yep. I figured we would need it to survive tonight. I think there should be enough left to get us drunk too…

Is it even safe to drink that Tyelko? Írissë raised both her eyebrows and shot him a pointed look. That spirit is meant for the Valar, it is so strong that I have seen Oromë stumbling to bed after it! It will most definitely blow the heads off us!'

It will be fine! Tyelko insisted. We'll just drink a little less than a Vala would. Oromë hardly would have given it to me if it was going to kill me!

Alright. Írissë nodded, growing a little more excited now that their plan was in action. Let's walk over for a chat with our fellow finalists. I'll distract them, you make sure a decent amount of that alcohol goes into Ehtelë's cup. And make sure no one sees you! Lest they think we're drugging him or something!

Perfect! Tyelko clapped his hands together. Let's go!

SSSSsSsSssSSSSsSsSsS

Tirion First Age 505...

At long last the morning of the Aráto Ball arrived.

It was no less dramatic than the evening would prove to be.

'I swear! I'm fine! Now stop fussing needlessly over me and put your efforts into making sure this feast runs smoothly. Last I checked we still had a long lost child of our house to protect, hmmm?' Anairë scowled, crossed her arms and shot each of her law-sisters a look.

It would have been more intimidating had she not been in her nightdress, kneeling on her bed with her straight hair very much out of place around her. She almost looked child-like.

Eärwen gave Anairë her hand as the stubborn Lady stepped out of bed for the first time since her fading incident. 'We know you are better, Anairë, but there is no need to rush this! We don't want you getting worse again for the sake of showing your face at a ball!'

'It's not just a ball!' Anairë argued. 'It is the Aráto Ball and I will not miss seeing my granddaughter in a dress for what will possibly be the first and last time ever!'

She proceeded to revert back to her stubborn demeanour. Her law-sisters shot each other more looks.

'We can't stop you from going…' Nerdanel sighed eventually. 'But promise us that the moment you feel unwell you will tell us!'

'I won't feel unw-…' Anairë began but was halted by three stares as intense as her own. 'Fine! I promise in the very unlikely event I feel unwell I will tell you!' She sighed and rolled her eyes.

Findis smiled. 'Good! She can be taught to quell that stubborn streak! Just like her brother!'

Anairë ignored her teasing. 'Speaking of my brother, where is he?' She frowned.

'I don't know precisely, but more than likely he is somewhere he shouldn't be. He may be Findékáno in looks but he is Arakáno in personality.' Findis shook her head.

'Ai, we're lucky he hasn't burnt the whole palace down so!' Anairë replied. 'He is the one you should be trying to keep in bed!'

'I agree.' Findis muttered. 'He is still carrying on his charade of pretending to be Findékáno, and all the young servants are falling for it!'

'Nerdanel and I haven't actually met him yet.' Eärwen shrugged. 'Dare I say he seems a little… shy?'

Anairë snorted. 'Believe me, he is the least shy person on Arda. More than likely he is afraid he will get roped into afternoon tea or something! I will find him and talk to him. He should go to the Ball tonight also, though I doubt he would want any attention on him. I will arrange something with him…' Anairë insisted, before beginning to tame her hair with a brush.

'Alright, but that is the only 'duty' you are to carry out today.' Eärwen insisted. 'We're having breakfast in half an hour. Join us if you wish. And Káno is more than welcome too. And we will be watching you for the rest of the day! No strenuous activity whatsoever!'

'Damn it, I really wanted to get some hand to hand combat training in!' Anairë sighed 'Today is just one of those days I really want to punch someone.'

Her three law-sisters made shocked faces to her back. None knew whether she was being serious or not.

SsSsSssSssSSsssSSssSs

Meanwhile, in the kitchens…

'Fána, darling, any spare pastries for me to try?'

Fána shot him a look, muttered something under her breath and rolled her eyes. However, Káno found a delicious muffin placed in front of him

'Thanks!' He beamed.

Fána smirked at him and shook her head. 'I know you're not Prince Findékáno. I remember Prince Findékáno. And you do look like him. But you remind me more of the younger ones in the royal family. They used to wreck my head and me trying to get work done! But Eru, I missed them when they were gone!'

'Who, Arakáno?' Káno raised an eyebrow, mouth full of cake.

Fána nodded. 'And a little bit of Írissë maybe… and that infuriating all-knowing look of Artanis. And the mischief of Ambarussa. All bundled into a ner who won't tell me who he is but also is allowed to be here and thinks he can get away stealing my cakes when he thinks I'm not looking!' She slapped Káno's hand as he made to grab another pastry. 'The royal family won't have anything left for breakfast by the time you are done!'

'And if I were to tell you that I was kind of a member of said royal family…? Káno narrowed his eyes. '…would that grant me more of the finest pastries on Arda?'

'No, hanno, it would mean you would get the pastries only if you joined us for breakfast.' A voice sounded from behind the two, making Káno jump.

'Lady Anairë.' Fána bowed her head.

'ANA!' Káno jumped off his stool and gave Anairë a hug. 'Good to see you up and about!'

Anairë let her Lady demeanour slip as she happily returned the hug. Fána smiled at the sight, many things now made sense, and for the first time in many years she saw in Anairë the young but bold nís that arrived to live at the Palace many years ago, arm hooked around Nolofinwë's. She saw someone that had more to them than merely their title, because for a time it had been difficult to believe that Anairë was a real person, and not a living definition of certain choice words

Anairë caught Fána's eye and dragged Káno away from the kitchens.

'Where we going nésa?' Káno asked, looking around the halls with the wonder of a child.

'To breakfast.' Anairë replied, leaving no room for argument.

Káno skidded to a halt. 'Ahh… I think I'll pass for this morning…'

Anairë placed her hands on her hips and shot him a look. 'Don't tell me you of all people are afraid of my in-laws!'

'Oh no not at all, they are only the most powerful Noldor in Aman, what is there to be afraid of?' Káno replied sarcastically.

Anairë was not fooled. 'You feel out of place, don't you?'

'Of course I feel out of place!' Káno suddenly blurted. 'Look at all this!' His arms spread around the over decorated corridor. 'And nésa, I have no idea how to sit at a table for a meal, Eru I don't even know how to use cutlery! I appreciate the royals allowing me to stay here, but I don't think I'll ever fit in! I need to figure out what to do with my life, I-…'

'You have all the time in the world to find your path, hanno.' Anairë halted his panic by placing the reassuring hand on his shoulder. 'And it is only breakfast, it doesn't mean you are tied to the House of Finwë forever. And you do not owe me or my in-laws anything for staying here, you are welcome here always, you saved my life. And I need and want you close to me!'

Káno shot here a smile. 'Thanks, nésa. But still, I am daunted by the idea of meeting all of the in-laws in one go!'

Anairë snorted. 'How do you think I felt? Just be grateful you are not marrying a precious child of Finwë, and thus facing all the intimidating stares and discreet blackmail of the collective family! They'll like you, hanno. And don't worry about the etiquette.'

Káno raised an eyebrow and laughed. 'Really? You of all people telling me not to worry about etiquette?'

'Did I mention that the Aráto finalists will be joining us for breakfast?' Anairë smiled sweetly. 'I am sure the two warriors will have decent table manners, but the hunters on the other hand…'

'Their etiquette will be so appalling that all eyes will be off me?' Káno breathed a sigh of relief.

'Let's just say that when Aranya visited the palace she saw a teaspoon on the table and asked me was it a portable mirror….' Anairë cringed. '…I think a small part of me died when I realised she was being dead serious.'

SSSSsssSSsssSsSSSSSs

The Aráto finalists left their camps in the mid-morning.

They had a busy day ahead. First they were to attend breakfast with the Noldor royals, something which would have been enough of an ordeal on its own. However, after breakfast was when the real work would begin- rehersals and, most important, the fitting of the designed outfits, hair styling and finishing touches to their appearance.

Siofra had barely been able to contain her excitement all morning, she skipped along the footpath alongside Kyelaeron, who took the event in his stride, though he dreaded what sort of outfit might be designed for him- he hoped nothing too ridiculous!

Malta's mood almost matched Siofra's. The idea of breakfast with the Noldor royals- many of whom were half-Vanyar- was incredible, and add to that the whole ball in his honour that would take place afterwards- what a day indeed! Lindë, on the other hand, had an expression that was the complete opposite to both Malta and Siofra- she was sick with nerves. This event felt like more of a challenge than the final itself.

Coincidentally, the pair of hunters and Warriors emerged from their camps at the same time.

'HI!' Aranya squealed and waved, barely keeping her feet off the ground. Malta beamed back and Lindë tried not to look as though she was about to vomit.

'Are you ready for the day that is ahead of us?' Kyelaeron asked, humoured by the varied expressions in front of him.

'Can't wait!' Malta replied confidently.

'Eru No!' Lindë declared at the same time.

Siofra was horrified at the notion that anyone could think this day anything but super exciting. 'Why not Lindë? Think of the food! It's gonna be sooo fancy! And the palace is so cool too! And the dress! I can't wait for my dress! And then a ball no less with the four of us centre of attention! It's a once in a lifetime experience!'

'Thank Eru I will only have to do this once!' Lindë answered. 'I am absolutely terrified.'

'Of what?' All three asked.

Lindë threw them all a look as if you say what was there not to be afraid of. 'Firstly, breakfast. Like, what do you say to a royal as regards casual table discussion? And then there is the whole etiquette thing, of which I am utterly clueless. And not only that but Eärwen is going to be there. The Eärwen. The nís that every little girl who was raised in Alqualondë idolised and aspired to be like, and I was no different. And all of this is before noon!'

Her fellow finalists had very easy solutions to the whole breakfast scenario, however.

'Just copy what I do for etiquette.' Malta shrugged. 'Ammë drilled it into me till I could do it in my sleep!'

'And however bad you might think you are, just remember Anya and me have only ever eaten food with our bare hands!' Kyelaeron smiled too.

'How else are we supposed to eat food?' Aranya asked, genuinely confused.

Kyelaeron shot Lindë a look in response. 'See?'

'And don't worry about the royals! They are all lovely! And you can talk to them about anything- they welcomed me as though I was one of their own!' Aranya smiled, not at all noticing the weight to her words, before crinkling her brow. 'But remind me, which one is Eärwen again?'

Kyealeron laughed. 'The Telerin one. And also the queen. Married to Arafinwë.'

Aranya remained puzzled. 'But wait… if Findis is the second oldest child of Finwë should she not have got the crown first…?'

'Ai Aranya, now that is an example of a question you should probably not ask at breakfast.' Kyealeron face palmed as Malta and Lindë shot each other a humoured look. 'This day is going to be long enough without any political debates!'

Aranya's questions did have Lindë giggling a little though, easing her nerves as they got closer to their destination. But she was still worried. 'Well breakfast aside, I don't like the idea of all the attention being on me! And I am not sure about my dress… it feels like it's too much.'

'Thank Eru! Someone who understands!'Kyelaeron sighed in relief. 'I too am terrified about that aspect. You're not alone in your fear Lindë!'

Malta and Siofra had no clue what the other two were on about.

'What's wrong with having all the attention on you?' Malta asked, genuinely confused.

'Yeah! I love the fact that this whole day is planned for us.' Siofra replied, flicking her hair behind her shoulder. 'And dressing up is the most fun part! How often do we get to parade around in fancy outfits made for us by Tirion's finest?'

'I know right?' Malta answered, just as excited. 'And they're gonna style our hair too!'

'If it helps…' Kyelaeron whispered to Lindë as Malta and Siofra walked ahead babbling on about the ball. '…I am just as nervous as you, but I'd never live it down if I admitted it to Aranya!'

Lindë laughed, and almost felt at ease. 'I guess they are right though…' she nodded to the two up ahead. '…we should try to enjoy this- as terrifying as the notion may seem!'

'True. And if we get through today the final will be a piece of cake!' Kyelaeron answered.

SSSsSsSSSSSSSSSS

Breakfast was an entertaining ordeal indeed…

Laid out on the table was the finest, most exquisite dishes, the crispiest, fresh pastries. Teas, coffees, juices. And that was only the food. The plates were a work of art themselves, as well as the bright bunches of fresh flowers in delicate vases, the seats, straight-backed and yet so comfy it was as though one was sitting into a cloud. And around that table, sat the remaining members of the House of Finwë, who rose in welcome as the four competitors arrived in the room.

Malta bowed in greeting and thanks and didn't seem the slightest bit fazed. Kyelaeron and Lindë mimicked him, though the awe and slight fear in their expressions was not to be missed. But Aranya on the other hand…

Aranya's level of wonder and awe was on a whole other level. Her eyes flitted around the table, widening more and more with each luxurious item she beheld. She gaped and looked to Kye, before realising she was meant to acknowledge her hosts. She bowed, that famous smirk coming to her face, making more than one of her relatives feel melancholic nostalgia.

'Welcome, finalists, and congratulations.' Arafinwë smiled warmly from the head of the table, extending out his arms. 'You have achieved something very few eldar can say they have achieved. It is my honour to host and accommodate you all today.'

'Thank you, your highness.' Malta nodded his head in acknowledgement, and Lindë and Kyelaeron followed his lead.

'This food looks amazing!' Aranya exclaimed, already forgetting to use Ara's title.

It's funny Nerdanel whispered to Anairë in osanwë. If either Tyelko or Írissë were made attend breakfast they would be moaning and eye-rolling to no end…

True. Anairë whispered, smiling. But Tyelko or Írissë would never get away with stuffing their faces the way I predict Aranya will the moment she sits down!

Eärwen, also seated at the head of the table, beside her husband, smiled at Aranya's compliment. 'I am afraid we cannot take credit, our chef has been baking since before dawn specially. But enough formalities! We shall discuss today's plans after we eat. Please, join us!' She gestured to two chairs to her left and two to her right.

The four began to make their way to their seats. But Eärwen had one more request to make.

'Lindë! Could I be very biased and request you sit beside me?! Pardon me for playing favourites, but there has never been a Telerin competitor in the final! I'm in awe!'

Malta smiled at the scream of disbelief Lindë let out through their bond.

'Of course, my Lady.' Lindë smiled, remaining cool and collected on the surface.

'Please, you can call me Eärwen.'

This time Lindë couldn't contain an excited squeal as she gladly took her seat.

'So tell me, Lindë. What are your first impressions of Tirion? And be honest!' Eärwen began buttering her bread roll and pouring herself some tea.

'It is lovely… but I do miss the sea!'

'You sound just like Eärwen did when she moved here first!' Ara commented. 'She would miss the sea so much we spent more time on the road to Alqualondë than anywhere else I think!'

'I got less homesick eventually.' Eärwen admitted. 'But yes, there was a time we completely tired ourselves out travelling to and fro!'

'I think I remember one of those visits, when I was little, when you went surfing…'

Meanwhile, Siofra and Kyelaeron had sat opposite Lindë and Malta, to the right of Arafinwë.

While the rest of the table was distracted with Lindë and Eärwen's conversation, Siofra and Kyelaeron were caught up in their own very serious debate.

How do I taste all these pastries and still leave room for the other foods? Aranya crinkled her brow, staring intently at the pile of cakes in front of her face.

Just go for it Kyelaeron replied. But hurry up! Were the only ones who haven't eaten anything yet!

Kye why is everyone using the silver things to eat with?

That's cutlery! Knives, forks and spoons! You use them to pick up the food and put it in your mouth.

That's so stupid! We have hands for a reason.

I think the dishes here are more complicated than what we eat. More messy, like, with fancy sauces and stuff. Some things would be impossible to eat without making a complete mess- like those eggs over there!

Hmmmm… Well I think I'll start with the pastries. Haven't had one of these since I was little! But I will be using my hands, thanks!' She reached out and grabbed a crossaint, tearing off a large mouthful.

Malta, also eating a crossaint, did try to make eyes with Siofra, exaggerating the knife and fork in his hand. But Siofra wasn't even looking, the crossaint had proven so delicious that her eyes had closed in bliss.

She barely contained herself from shouting 'YUM!'.

KYE. YOU. NEED. TO. TRY. THESE. THE. TASTE. I. CAN'T… MMMMMMMMMM!'

Aranya grabbed another.

Kyelaeron raised an eyebrow at his osellë's silly behaviour. Surely a mere pastry couldn't taste that good? Kyelaeron didn't know, he never had tasted a pastry before. He shrugged and grabbed one, eating it the same way Aranya had, much to Malta's horror.

Kyelaeron's face visibly lit up the moment he took his first mouthful. He looked at Aranya, eyes wide. She nodded back.

They both grabbed another pastry.

Little did Siofra and Kyelaeron know that they were entertainment for most of the table, as the tray of pastries grew smaller and smaller.

They are going to regret it so much later! Findis commented in osanwë. Especially when their stomachs are not used to cake!

Good thing they are learning this now and not later on at the feast! Indis commented.

I made the same mistake… those pastries are far too nice. Káno cringed.

Anairë, how do you feel about our granddaughter's table manners? Nerdanel hid her giggles in her teacup, and discreetly nodded to an Aranya, who was currently licking chocolate chips off her fingers.

Anairë hid her grimace in her coffee. I think another part of me has died inside…

SSSSssSsSSsSssSsSS

When breakfast was over, the finalists began their rehearsal for the evening.

'Follow me to the ballroom!' Eärwen led then down the hall.

Two certain finalists could barely move.

'Kye… I want to lie down and never move again!' Aranya moaned, clutching her cramping stomach.

'Same…' Kyelaeron cringed, face contorted in discomfort. 'Were those pastries really worth this?'

'They were.' Aranya nodded. 'But at the same time I never want to see one again!'

They passed a certain part of the corridor. Aranya skidded to a halt.

Don't tell me you're about to puke! Not here Anya! Kyelaeron asked, a little panicked.

'Siofra, is everything alright?' Ahead of them, Eärwen halted also.

'Yes, Eärwen.' Siofra replied. 'I was just wondering… where have the paintings gone?'

'What paintings?' Eärwen asked smoothly, as Kyelaeron desperately caught her eye from behind his osellë's back.

'When I was here, before the Third Trial, there were many portraits along this corridor…' Aranya stated. 'Were they moved?'

'Ah yes! The portraits!' Eärwen played along well. 'We redecorated a little for the ball, those paintings have been put away into storage.'

'Oh… okay…' Aranya tried to hide the disappointment in her voice.

Earwen smiled sympathetically. 'When the Games are over you are more than welcome to view them, once we... move them back.'

'That would be wonderful!' Aranya beamed.

'Alright.' Earwen clapped her hands together as they arrived at the ballroom. 'Tonight, you will process down these steps, centre stage in front of the highest-ranking nobles and Aráto champions from all over Aman! Not to mention your fellow Hunters and Warriors! You must make sure you smile! And keep your heads held high, backs straight. Malta, you know what I am talking about! The four of you line up and practice now, off you go!'

They obeyed the queen's command. And what very harsh judge she proved to be.

'Malta, keep those eyes straight ahead of you, this isn't gossiping Valmar!'

'Kyelaeron you are not stalking a deer! Try to not step so lightly, you're reminding me of a cat!'

'Lindë look confident! You are an Aráto finalist! You are fearless, brave, the best! Indulge in a little more cockiness!'

'Siofra Aranya! If you do that tonight you will end up falling head-first into the mirúvorë bowl. And no, that would not be a good thing!'

SSssSssSSsSssSsSSsSssSssSs

While Earwen dealt with the finalists, Indis kept an eye on the kitchens, Arafinwë ran through protocol with the servants and Nerdanel and Findis oversaw the final decorations.

'Green or blue candles for this window? I need your artistic opinion.' Findis asked Nerdanel, who paused for a moment.

'Both.' She replied. 'And then add in some purple.'

'What else needs to be done?' A voice sounded from behind them.

'You are supposed to be taking a nap!' Nerdanel put her hands on her hips and threw Anairë a pointed look.

Anairë crossed her arms. 'I'm not a child! And I was in bed for a week! And it is not as if decorating is even stressful- you two have got the doss task!'

'Art is work.' Nerdanel answered, trying to keep a serious expression.

Findis shrugged. 'The reason I chose to decorate is because it is the easiest job...'

'Exactly!' Anairë replied before joining in.

'I do hope tonight runs smoothly, but also that Siofra enjoys her night.' Nerdanel pondered. 'We get so caught up in keeping her parentage a secret that it is easy to forget how significant an accomplishment this is!'

'True.' Anairë sighed. 'More things have happened in the past week than in the past few years. We will make this her night. Let us all relax a little and be proud of one of our own.'

'I agree.' Findis answered, as she polished a vase. 'But I just hope she doesn't get as drunk as her parents did the night of their Aráto Ball!'

Anairë and Nerdanel both shot Findis a look that could kill. The second child of Finwë didn't even raise her eyes to meet the two, but the smug smile on her face could not be missed.

'WE DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT INCIDENT!' Cried two mortified mothers, feeling the embarassment creeping through their chests after over five hundred years.

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Tirion, Y.T.

Oromë's liquor had done the trick. Ehtelë was currently standing on a chair and interrupting Makalaurë's performance by blasting out random notes on the flute.

Tyelko and Írissë laughed alot. Because they were so funny! What a brilliant idea!

'Íreth...' Tyelko muttered, swaying a little on his feet. 'We... drunk it! T'is GONE!' He sloppily tipped Oromë's flask upside down.

'WOW!' Írissë exclaimed, voice slurred, clutching Tyelko's chest. 'But TYELKO! WE'RE NOT EVEN DRUNK!'

'Nope!' Tyelko shook his head slowly. 'Not drunk.'

'We are so funny'! Írissë laughed suddenly, and twirled around. 'But guess what would be funnier?'

'WHAT!?' Tyelko's eyes widened in excitement.

Írissë's eyes grew mischievious, Tyelko's smirk appeared, though it was rather lopsided.

'I dare you...' Írissë whispered. 'To give me a piggyback around the room!'

'EASY!' Tyelko all but threw her up on his shoulders. Neither noticed that he nearly lost his balance.

'ONE MORE THING!' Írissë announced, whispering into his ear from behind. Tyelko listened intently.

'You have to do the dare with your trousers off!'

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Tirion, First Age 505...

Once their rehersal was finished, and Earwen satisfied, it was time for the finalists to go their separate ways to get washed, dressed, and perfected for the Ball.

Siofra loved the bath she was drawn. What she did not love, however, was sitting still as Tanwë braided what seemed to be a million shining gems into her hair, before somehow managing to tame her wild locks into elegant curls, which were then fixed to the back of her head in a loose, messy bun, braids running in from her crown.

Then it was time for the dress...

Tanwë purposely made Siofra put on a blindfold as she helped her into the ballgown. She then led Aranya to the mirror, before pulling be blindfold off, finally showing Siofra her finished design.

Siofra looked in the mirror.

She didn't recognise the person before her eyes...

Her hair, tied away from her face, drew attention to her fine features. Emerald gems in her hair and jewellery around her neck highlighted her unique sparkling eyes. The white fabric of the gown complimented her pale complexion and silvery blonde hair perfectly. The dress itself showed off her figure beautifully, cropped in a V shape just below the bust to above the hips. And an off-shoulder short sleeve and hem slit worked well with her muscled arms and legs.

For the first time in her life, Siofra Aranya was speechless.

Tanwë smiled, taking great satisfaction in a job well done. 'One more thing...' She turned the sleeve inside-out for a moment, and Aranya's eyes widened at what was embroidered into the material.

The eight-pointed star.

Siofra couldn't hold it in any longer, she burst into tears. 'I LOVE IT! THANK YOU! IT'S SO PRETTY!'

'Hey, it's okay! Don't cry Siofra!' Tanwë laughed, pulling her niece into a hug.

'This dress... it's like... going back in time!' Siofra sniffed, in-between sobs, before confirming. 'It reminds me of my Ammë!'

'Dress or no dress, Siofra, I think you are very much like her.' Tanwë said reassuringly.

'I... I just... I wanted to remember her, and... make her proud.' Aranya whispered.

Tanwë placed a hand on her shoulder and cupped her face with the other. 'You already have.'

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Kyelaeron was very unsure about this new look.

His hair had been braided at the sides, and let fall down his back, which he supposed was fine.

What was not fine was how many gems and silvery threads studded his fitted tunic, which he had left opened down the front once the tailor had left him alone.

Looking in the mirror, he supposed he didn't look as over-the-top as he had dreaded, in fact... maybe he looked good?

Well, regardless of how I look this is still terribly uncomfortable. I am glad this one night will be my only night of finery...

As was to be expected, his tunic had silvery undertones in the gems and embroidered threads. However, instead of a blue, which his father probably would have worn, his tailor had opted to don him in emerald green. Kyelaeron liked it, it reminded him of the trees. And unknown to him it would match the gems in Aranya's outfit.

A knock sounded on his door. Before he even had time to reply in bounded Aranya.

'Hey Anya!' Kye smiled. 'You all set?'

Aranya looked at him as though he had grown ten heads. She outstretched her arms and gestured to her outfit throwing in a twirl for good measure.

Kyelaeron crinkled his brow. 'Do you not like your dress?'

Aranya looked as though she wanted to explode. 'EXACTLY KYE! THE DRESS! LOOK AT MY DRESS!' She squealed excitedly, before running over to him and inspecting his suit. 'Wow Kye! You look so smart and handsome! Look at us! Aráto finalists! Isn't this a dream?!' She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pointed into the mirror.

'I admit it is pretty surreal.' Kyelaeron smiled, before linking Aranya's arm. 'Shall we head to the ball your Highness?' He could not resist.

'It would be an honour, my Lord!'

Imagine if that was what we were really like... Kyelaeron thought to himself. Imagine if parties and rig-outs like this were the norm... It is scary when one thinks of how different Anya and I could have been, had Tirion been our home...

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They met... or more precisely interrupted... Malta and Lindë in the hallway. The two jumped apart, pretending that nothing had happened.

Siofra and Kyelaeron were far too used to teasing Tyeliër and Mára to allow the couple to get away with kissing.

'Wow, great technique there.' Aranya commented, after wolf-whistling. 'I bet you have been practising loads!'

'I think there is a few cough fountains cough in the garden also, if you get bored during the ball!' Kyelaeron smirked, completely unaware that the couple already knew he had caught them in his newly acquired garden.

'Very funny.' Lindë rolled her eyes as Malta laughed.

Luckily for the couple, Aranya's attention was soon grabbed by their outfits. Lindë's dress was truly a work of art, all shades of sea blues, rippling like water every time she moved. Her skirts were layered as waves, but on the top the dress was simple and sleeveless, giving her a look of elegance and grace. Her hair was for once let hang loose, silvery waves free of intricate braids, and was parted to the side. Around her waist was a purple ribbon, and she had purple shoes and jewellery also, to match Malta's attire.

Malta did look every bit the Lord he was, though this was nothing new, as he was always well dressed. His tunic was a dark indigo, embroiderd with golden threads to match his renowned hair, which flowed down his back in an intricate ponytail.

'Wow, you both look amazing, but LINDE! I love your dress! Isn't it wonderful to be all dolled up?!' Aranya beamed.

Lindë giggled, and allowed herself to let go, twirling her skirts. 'I admit it does feel nice. So is this all you nobles do on a weekly basis?' She shot Malta a look, a teasing gleam in her eye.

'Nonsense! We have many duties and responsibilities to attend to!' Malta defended himself.

'LIKE WHAT?' His fellow finalists questioned together.

'Like... training and... ordering food and... clothes.' Malta took far too long thinking of an answer.

Before they others could tease him again, however, Malta's luck ensured a servant came running towards them.

'Finalists! It is time! The ball attendees are all waiting for your entrance. Follow me!' The young servant girl gestured for them to follow her.

As they got closer to the ballroom, Aranya noticed something was off...

Her shoes were far too uncomfortable.

'I will never last the whole night in these!' She complained, pointing to her delicate silver sandals. 'Who in their right mind would design a shoe that hurts your feet?'

'They are all the style at the moment.' Malta commented.

'Easy for you to say in boots!' Lindë frowned. 'You do get used to them eventually, Siofra, it just takes a few years...'

Siofra was horrified at such a notion.

'YEARS? Nope I'm done! I'm going barefoot. Here, you can have these.' She handed the shoes to the servant girl, who looked at Siofra as though she had grown ten heads.

'Will your feet not hurt also if you're barefoot?' Malta questioned.

'Nope! The soles of my feet are like leather!' Aranya declared proudly. 'From childhood days spent running around the treetops!'

'Miss...I cannot accept these!' The servant found her voice again, eyes wide in shock.

'Throw them in the bin if you want to!' Aranya shrugged.

'Miss, these are worth more than what I earn in ten years!'

Siofra did a double take.

'WHAT SORT OF IDIOT WOULD PAY FOR SHOES THAT-...'

'Aranya shush! They'll hear you in the ballroom!' Kyelaeron warned, and tried not to laugh at Malta, who was looking everywhere except at Aranya.

'Seriously, keep them! I'll never wear them!' Aranya whispered to the servant, who had no choice but to accept this time, as time was of the essence.

They arrived at the door, and lined up the way Earwen had instructed. Given the close relationships between Malta and Lindë and Siofra and Kyelaeron, they had agreed to be each other's dance partners for the first dance, set to begin the moment they arrived. Thus Malta linked Lindë's arm and Siofra linked Kye's.

They heard a very loud announcement from just behind the door.

'Please welcome the finalists! Hunters Kyelaeron and Siofra, and Warriors Lindë and Malta!'

The double doors opened, and the four were met with a dazzling scene of a crowd and feast, gathered just for them.

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All eyes were on the four finalists- starstruck eyes, envious eyes, nostalgic eyes, hateful eyes.

But without a doubt, the person who stole most of the attention was Siofra Aranya.

Sure, she looked stunning, but so did Lindë, Malta and Kyelaeron. Siofra stood out however, because one would swear they were looking at a different person. Siofra was naturally gifted with good aesthetics, but there was nothing like a decent tidy-up and hair-do to enhance such features. Some eagle-eyed viewers would recall the rare occasions that Tyelkormo actually made an effort when attending certain feasts.

But aesthetics aside, what really grabbed their attention was the dress.

Eyes of various fashion artisans widened in curiosity and many looks were exchanged. Tanwë, from her seat in one of the corners, felt the urge to duck under the table...

But, after a few brief moments of silent communication between certain influential figures, it was clear to anyone who knew how to read a room that the dress was a success. Many ladies gasped and muttered compliments under their breath, while some already began planning their outfits to the next ball, based around this look.

Siofra almost got away scoff-free with wearing no shoes... But nothing slipped past a certain lady's eagle eyes.

WHY OH WHY MUST BOTH MY GRANDDAUGHTERS HAVE A GRUDGE AGAINST SHOES?! Anairë cried in osanwë to her fellow royals. She then caught eyes with Káno, disguised for his comfort as a royal guard, and she knew that behind his helmet he was shaking with mirth.

She is truly beautiful... Nerdanel sighed. But I don't mean in the traditional sense. What I mean is... she wholly embraces who she is and has not tried to change that to fit in... The dress, the lack of shoes, the confidence regardless... It makes a statement.

You're making her sound like a work of art! Earwen giggled. But I understand what you mean. Though, I would argue that she is effortlessly doing so... which makes it even more powerful.

She is so much like her parents... Indis whispered, voice full of emotion.

The table grew quiet for a brief moment, as they all were lost in melancholic nostalgia.

Findis broke the silence. I guess we all know now why she made such a fuss over the dress...

White... Anairë secretly whispered to herself. Like the snowdrops you used to pick for me, Íreth...

Siofra strolled down the steps and towards the royal table with the presence of a queen, Kyelaeron walking tall and straight by her side.

The royals all stood to greet their guests of honour, and the four bowed and curtseyed the way they had been drilled to earlier that day, Aranya letting out a sigh of relief when she didn't lose her balance.

Then the music began.

The strict protocol tension gradually slipped away as the two dance couples breezed over the floor in a waltz.

Malta and Lindë appeared to be a dream couple, lost in each other's eyes and smiling profusely as they twirled gracefully around the room.

Siofra and Kyelaeron however, began to get adventurous.

Kye lift me! Do the spinny thing where I am right over your head!

Anya if I drop you-...

You won't! Just do it.

Technically, the waltz doesn't have any lifts!

PLEASE! It will look so cool!

Alright, here goes nothing!

WAHOOO!

Once Kyelaeron started lifting, however, he couldn't stop. Aranya probably spent most of the dance in the air than on the floor.

'You know what would be funny, Kye?' Aranya whispered, once the music finished.

Kyelaeron raised an eyebrow at that all too familiar tone. 'What mischief do you want me to join you in?

Aranya smirked. 'We should do an Avarin dance next!'

Kyelaeron tried to throw her a stern look, but could not help the smug smirk that was beginning to break through his face. 'You know, Anya, in a sophisticated ballroom such as this one a traditional Avarin dance may be seen as too... suggestive.'

Aranya let out a mock gasp. 'How dare they insult your culture with such judgement! Now you have to dance it, as a way of saying fu- Wahhooo!'

Kyelaeron had grabbed her waist and twirled Aranya around, beginning an Avarin dance, before she had even finished her sentence.

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The dance went on for another while, during which the dance floor became more and more crowded with nobles, Hunters and Warriors alike. The finalists all received many well wishes and compliments- and in Siofra and Kyelaeron's case- teasing, from their friends.

Then, the feast was laid out. Aranya, Kye, Malta and Lindë took their dedicated seats each side of the King and Queen. The food yet again was to die for, naturally, however Siofra and Kyelaeron learned their lesson this morning, and paced themselves this time.

Aranya scanned her eyes around the room for a moment. So this was what a royal party looked like. She still could not believe she was here, in Tirion, in the palace and in the Aráto final. It did not seem that long ago she was back in the woods, up a tree to get a better view of the sunset... what a different world this was!

'Wine, Madam?' Siofra's was brought back to the present by the table's waiter, carrying a large jug. He nodded to her empty goblet.

Siofra smiled, before shaking her head. 'Actually, would you have any mirúvorë instead? I am not overly fond of wine!'

The waiter nodded. 'I'll have someone fetch it for you in a moment.' He replied, before continuing on down the table.

Siofra ate and conversed and laughed and embraced the special night that was in it.

Then, the toasts began. Arafinwë was first, thanking the organisers, guests and finalists, and every person in-between for coming.

When everyone raised their glasses to toast, Aranya looked down at her empty cup, only to find it had been filled with clear potent mirúvorë.

Strange... I never saw the person who filled it...

She shrugged and raised her drink, clinking glasses with Kyleaeron and making to take a sip.

A scream from her natural instincts halted her. She... smelt something familiar coming from her drink, a smell that didn't belong in mirúvorë...

It took her a little while to recall what this scent was, and a few more toasts were made in the mean-time, however, when the realisation hit her, Siofra's eyes flashed dangerously.

She was her father's daughter no doubt as she rose from her chair so hastily she almost knocked it over.

She was her mother's daughter as she glared at everyone in the room.

'I too, would like to make a toast.' Siofra began, ignoring Kyelaeron's questions of concern in her mind. Right now, she needed to tread very carefully, and focus.

Slowly, very slowly, she began to walk around the room. She passed the musicians. 'To the fabulous performers, for those lovely melodies that I can't wait to dance to again later!'

She did not dare look at the royal table, where many worried and confused looks were being thrown her direction.

Next, Aranya passed by her fellow hunters. 'To my family from the woods.' She gestured to the Hunters. 'For all the love and support you have given me all my life...'

Anya! Why are you walking around, you can make a toast from your seat.

Kye, trust me. We are not safe here...

Luckily, Siofra spotted someone else she could thank, while still making her way through the room. 'To Tanwë, who designed my stunning ballgown. My gratitude cannot be overstated.'

Tanwë nodded, but she did not smile. She knew something was wrong here...

Keep going Aranya! Siofra whispered to herself. Almost there... Almost there...

With three graceful bounds Aranya bounded up the steps leading to the double doors, the only entrance and exit from the ballroom. Planting herself in the very middle of the entrance, Siofra made her final toast...

'And finally, to my Atar, for teaching me how to recognise poison by its scent!

She grabbed a nearby vase, and poured the contents of goblet on top of the flowers...

...They disintegrated.

Chaos began to stir, but Aranya managed to control the room with her loud commanding voice and death glare.

'So what BASTARD here wants me dead? Hmmm? WHO PUT THIS CUP IN FRONT OF ME? YOU HAVE BEEN CAUGHT, OWN UP. AND I DARE YOU TO TRY TO ESCAPE. ERU HELP YOU IF YOU TRY TO GET THROUGH ME!'

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What a long chapter! A reward for you all for being so patient!

Fëanor acquired an obsession with babies as soon as Nelyo was born, one of the many reason he and nerdanel had more babies than anyone else.

I liked writing a younger, more brash and bold Anairë. I think she resembled Írissë a lot here.

I kind of dug myself into a hole with the whole Anairë growing up poor, because there was always the question- 'But if Finwë was a good king and they were all living in happy Aman how was that even possible?' So, I got a little creative here and came up with what I hope was a somewhat believable explanation.

I love Siofra judging the dressmakers as though she is Míriel Serindë. Also, did anyone predict her dress would be white?

It is currently 3am and my eyes are literally closing as I write this, so I am going to leave the analysis here and upload this now. Apologies for any typos! I will have a read over again and edit if needs be, but I think this chapter is long overdue without having to wait another day!

One last note though, attempt to assassinate Siofra Aranya at your own risk. Her immediate response to nearly being poisoned is literally 'FIGHT ME BITCH!'

Please comment! It makes my day!

SiofraMarina x