To VanyaNoldo22: Thank you. I hope I don't disappoint.

Disclaimer: I don't own Silmarillion, Lord of the Rings, the Hobbit or the other works of J.R.R Tolkien- that belongs to the master and his estate themselves. Or his characters.

Atar was laughing.

I blinked, seated on my high chair.

What a picture this made, I thought as Atar went to open another bottle of wine.

Everything was a contrast: my parents, grandparents and their guests: Alacion, his wife Alimien, their son Canyaner and daughter Alassë had come from Formenos.

But the way Amil, Atar, Haru and Haruni talked, laughed and chatted with our guests, they seemed by far, if not completely, not like royalty and more like everyone else. Ordinary folk. They didn't look like it, and there was a regal calmness and bearing about them, but other than that, they didn't have airs and graces. Which really shocked me, as Fëanáro and his sons were known to be incredibly proud- Fëanáro had defied the Valar in the Silmarillion, but this is the complete and total opposite of everything I had read and imagined!

if it was really Fëanáro and his sons that were involved in the kinslayings and the War against Morgoth. Because I had grown, quite a lot, to doubt the books' plotline.

And yet how could it not be? How else did Fëanáro managed to get so many people to follow him- not just his sons. I'm sure they all wanted to avenge Finwë, but why did they follow him If they didn't love him? But there were other contrasts to prove the stories.

The house was built by my parents- surprise, surprise, but it was something that elves in Arda and Alagaësia have in common: they didn't buy houses, despite their obvious wealth, nor did they employ others to build it for them.

The table itself was a large, magnificent oblong shape, a gift from my grandparents. They had help of course. The chandeliers in the house were carved by my father, grandfather and one or two of my uncles, very painstakingly. The porcelain dishes, silverware and goldware as well as the crystal glasses were fashioned by my grandparents and father with Amil's help- as it turned out, not all her talents lay in gardening. Therefore, the vases, urns, painting frames and other ornaments were fashioned all by hand by my family, the paintings themselves and the tapestries were also done by hand. It had the breathtaking ethereal beauty of the elves, the ornate glitter so characteristic of the Ñoldor and the light, sweeping loveliness of the Teleri, unique that it represented both cultures.

It struck me then, that this was not merely a characteristic of the House of Fëanáro. When I came of age, and when I married, it was likely that I would be expected- though I would want to do it myself- raise a house of my own. As was the way of all elves, in any universe. There were a few things that brought us together in similarities (not counting our pointed ears).

At the same time, I confirmed what I already knew in my heart: it wasn't just respect and admiration that compelled people to follow Fëanáro. It was genuine love for the person he had once been.

That person was going to be lost.

"So there is something else I am eager to discuss." Alacion said abruptly. All conversation stopped.

"About the second-born, these... Men and Dwarves."

Fëanáro scoffed. "You mean these lucky ones, Alacion." He sounded sour.

Nerdanel's eyebrow arched. "Now, now Fëanáro." She chided gently. "What we have been given and gained for ourselves in Valinor, is by the grace of Ilúvatar and the Valar. Our skills, arts and crafts have flourished. We have never known hunger nor fear of the Dark Lord and his fell servants due to their chaining of him."

Which won't last forever, I assure you.

"Atar, she's right." Atar spooned some mashed potato and carrot into my mouth. "Perhaps we who have never known the Great Journey that my grandparents took, take for granted everything we have ever seen and known in Aman."

Amil shuddered. "These second-born... I can't imagine what life must be like for them. Hopefully these fell creatures will never find them- at least not until they wake. Still, I can't help but wonder... What are they like?"

I could tell a lot, if you asked me. And if I could talk properly.

"What do you mean?" Alacion asked.

"I mean, are they as we are, the Eldar? Or the Avari?" Amil pressed. She helped me take a drink of juice.

Fëanáro grunted. "Well, they're not elves that's for certain." Despite my grandmother's reasoning he was still disgruntled, I see.

"Well, no one's seen them." Alacion shrugged. "My guess is that as Eruhíni we would all have our similarities. They would not be foul like the orcs."

"Sh." Alamien instantly placed a hand on his shoulder, eyes wide at the baby- me.

Another reason to hate being an infant.

"My apologies." Alacion said sheepishly. "The fact of the matter is," Fëanáro- Haru- interrupted impatiently "That these beings, second-born as they may be, are allowed free rein over the lands of our birth. Endórë, the lands from whence we came. Should we, the Eldar, sit back and twiddle our thumbs, allowing these after-comers to wander and claim the lands as their own, to build cities and dwellings for their own kind, whereas we fade into the history of the world?"

"I thought we were the ones who write the histories," Amil said with a wry look, casting a glance at Atar.

Atar smirked. Haru inclined his head. "You are right. But Élen, we have lived in Valinor for so long, that, as you Maitimo and Nerdanel have pointed out- and rightly so- we have grown complacent and easy and take for granted the fruits of the labours of others."

"I hardly think charging to Endórë is the wisest idea though." Alimien frowned. "What of the... Fell creatures?"

Fëanáro laughed softly. "Without their master, they are cast away, listless, wandering and hunted no doubt, by our kin. What threat are they to anyone."

Eärélen- Amil- still looked disturbed. "But what of the... More terrible servants? After all, the lesser ones are just the foot-soldiers, the pawns in the game."

She was referring to dragons, balrogs and whatever else.

Fëanáro inclined his head. "You are right again. But what is life without a little risk?"

"Brave words, Fëanáro." Alimien nodded, sagely. "Still, I think with the children so young..." Her eyes wandered to me.

"Maybe when Estela is grown," Fëanáro- Haru- added quickly. "Though it might not be wise to let her go. Perhaps an expedition party must go first- I say, with all my sons almost grown and married and a great horde of grandchildren, were it not for my wife, Nerdanel and my father I would have left, to seek out and explore these lands. Do you not wish to see Cuiviénen?"

And this was where it all began. Despite the totally caring, tender and wonderful being my grandfather was. No doubt Morgoth had something to do with his transformation.

Just like the Rings of Power- including the One, though I'd say the Seven were the best example alongside the Nine. It amplified all your flaws: greed and love of treasure for the dwarves, a thirst for power, wealth and glory for humans. Humans were the most vulnerable and dwarves were susceptible to that same sickness as Thorin Oakenshield, though they were more resilient in corruption. But elves too were not immune.

"Perhaps, but it does no good to dwell on the past," Nerdanel- Haruni- said, contently. She smiled at my parents and I. "You cannot deny that in Endórë such blessings are hard to come by. I know not how they can bear it, being unable to raise their children in such safety without fear of darkness."

And the talk went on.

I shivered when no one was looking. They had no idea. They had no idea...

My days as a baby were dull to say the least, but blandly beautiful.

In Ellesméra there were no schools because there weren't that many children. Children are taught by their parents or tutors are assigned to them, or both. The education and rearing of children are infinitely too important to be left to individuals alone. 'Elflings' as humans call them, are raised by their parents and not by governments, but every individual in their society accepts some measure of responsibility for their well-being and training. The closer you are to the child's parents, the more responsibility. As a result, Findekáno, my Uncle Macalaurë, Artanis (otherwise known as Galadriel), Írissë, Findaráto and Amárië all willingly accepted the most responsibility apart from my grandparents, otherwise known as godparenting, during my Essecarmë.

I remembered some parts of the ceremony. Dressed in something similar to a Christening gown from Terra, in white , I underwent a series of ritual blessings and bathing- like a Jewish Mikvah or a Christian baptism, having my father-name, mother-name, and I became Nelyafinwiel- daughter of Nelyafinwë and announced as a member of the House of Finwë (through Fëanáro) and Olwë. Then I was presented with gifts. I tried to remember certain things about the ceremony and the welcoming feast afterwards, me dressed in another gown but in the colours of the House of Finwë- Fëanorian branch, and Olwë

Was it at Tirion? At the royal palace? Or in Alqualondë? I wasn't sure.

Amil bent down to feed a flowering plant. She put rich soil around the plant too, pruning its leaves. Sighing, she replaced her spade. "I love my garden." She murmured. Then she frowned. "I should probably water the spice gardens next," she muttered. "The herbs are already done, maybe the water-works need checking-" she trailed off.

We were in the garden- again! Amil and her gardens. She wasn't just a gardener, she was a landscape artist.

Speaking of which, I suspected that there was a cunning system of pipes that fed them with water and kept them warm during colder seasons.

"And the fruits need checking. The rest of the shrubs need watering-" she kept on going, trying to remind herself of everything.

Well, Amil definitely had a talent that could rival any born-Ñoldorin gardener and landscape artist. Last evening, they had definitely enjoyed showing the very impressed guests her work. She had fruits, vegetables, beds of flowers, shrubs and bushes (not much topiaries though- too much clutter, she thought), arbours, herbs, ordinary plants, spices and waterworks. And some of Haruni's sculptures decorated the place alongside fountains.

All this got me thinking. I knew the elves here were as advanced as the elves of Alagaësia, and as humans in my first life, if not more. But as I realised that despite the beautiful silver-voice that gave her, her mother-name Telpelinda, Amil did not know how to use magic. I suppose I could compare it with muggles and wizards from my third life: muggles having no magic, sought to advance their own society to make their lives infinitely easier. The wizards on the other hand, had an archaic culture, technology, and architecture, so why use electricity, flipping a switch to turn on the light when they simply needed to wave their hands or wands? And besides too much magic interfered with electricity. We lived immortal lives, therefore we could easily think up ingenious projects, engineering, architecture, art, literature, mathematics, you name it. At this stage my grandfather had already made the Fëanorian lamps.

So whilst being advanced in technological ways- in undoubtedly environmentally-friendly ways, the elves were still in their early days. It was clear that magic the way the Alagaësian elves had, was not present in the Eldar of Arda.

That was my third life. In my fourth, I was an elf of Ellesméra. They however, found not only a science to magic (contrary to Muggles' belief that magic and science are two different things, the former being a myth), but defined magic, or gramarye, as being the manipulation of energy. Magic-users had an innate power deep within that allowed them to use magic. Not every human, dwarf or anyone else could use it, but among the elves, it was in everyone. I knew that the fact that the elves of Alagaësia were turned immortal whereas these elves were immortal from the start, had absolutely nothing to do with it. My mother was capable of magic, I was sure. So was my father and just about everyone else.

How long before they discovered it?

Or... Should I 'discover it' for them?

The Sindar, Silvan and Laiquiendi, or Green-elves lived in telain, or flets. Platforms without walls, or rails, accessible only by hithlain rope ladders. They had moveable screens to cover them up, if they so wanted. They functioned as apartments, or towers, or even whole blocks of buildings with houses on top of the lofty mellyrn trees. In Ellesméra and the majority of the cities in Du Weldenvarden, elves sang to the trees in the Ancient Language, using magic and giving them the strength, convincing them to grow in the shape they wanted to build their houses. Vrael's house was made out of a tree, ridged by a spiral staircase, going up to a series of globular rooms suspended by the branches. Like other houses they were open to the elements, except when it got colder in which case, elves would tug on a string and some membrane would unfold which would be used to cover the place. The air would become warmer in temperature.

The elves of Ellesméra had showers or wash-closets, with a hollow drain that enabled the waters to flow, watering the trees in which they lived (toilet contents do not go the same way). The nozzles allowed the inhabitants to wash in water of any temperature. Here, we had plumbing as well, and the water also nourished the environment. But we took baths.

Elves of Arda were living at an earlier stage now, I can confirm.

Could I help them? Usher them along? Better yet, as I know what was going to happen...

But wait. If they didn't listen to me? Why in the world would they listen to a small child? Even if it was a while before Morgoth was released, I was one elf.

This year was 13, 384 Year of the Trees. If only I knew exactly when Morgoth/Melkor was going to be released! I knew we didn't have long, sometime during the next century at least. I watched Amil garden, knowing that the peace of Valinor would soon be disturbed. It didn't make me feel better.

But what if I could do it? Get them to listen to me? I was already at an advantage. People seemed to be fawning over me- that's what they do to babies. If they all took part in raising me and/or watching me grow... Would they feel... Attached?

I had everything to lose. My family, the Houses of Finwë, Nolofinwë and Arafinwë's branches as well as Fëanáro's which just so happened to be my own. The Ñoldor and Teleri peoples of which both counted me as their own. My home in Valinor. All my family: my grandparents- one of which would remain in Valinor, the other gone mad, subject to the Doom and killed by Gothmog the Lord of Balrogs. My great-grandfather Finwë, killed by Morgoth's hand, my mother's family who would either be slain or whom I would never see again. My uncle Macalaurë who would wander aimlessly throughout Middle-Earth, Tyelcormo who would lose his sanity and soul over Lúthien, Carnistir and Curufinwë who with Tyelcormo would destroy Doriath and its innocents, including my kinsman Dior who would also kill them- Dior's two sons would perish in the forest, and their mother. Elu Thingol, the great-uncle I had yet to meet who would be antagonistic towards the sons of Fëanáro, the son of his great friend Finwë and be killed by dwarves. Findekáno, Turukáno, Írissë, Arakáno, Findaráto, Angaráto, Aikanáro, Artaresto and his daughter, Finduilas. Celebrían. Arwen later on. Telperinquar, my cousin. Ereinion Gil-Galad, Lúthien. Those who had been born and those who were going to be born. Anyone else?

Oh, yes. My father who would be captured and tortured by Morgoth and lose his hand, and one day, leap into a pit of molten rock. I don't know what was going to happen to my mother, though. I doubted she would survive the War of Wrath.

And all for what? I thought, bitterly. Three gems.

I didn't give a damn on how pretty those Silmarils were. If they were going to destroy everyone and everything I have ever loved or cared about, I would rather destroy them myself. Except that I knew that Eärendil needed at least one for his star and would go to the Valar who would stop Morgoth for good.

I couldn't stop Haru from creating the Silmarils, could I?

The Palantíri? Nope. The Tengwar and the Fëanorian lights were already made. But the Silmarils, more than anything, I wanted to destroy.

I had everything to lose. So if I could convince them...

Convince them. Gain their trust. It sounded deceitful, but it was their only way.

I needed the help of the Valar. I couldn't do this on my own. No one would believe me. Even worse, I was now a baby, though I wouldn't remain one forever, a Fëanárian descendant myself, I was going to be on the hit-list for Morgoth and Sauron. Especially if I made myself known by thwarting their plans. Even more, what if in trying to prevent the dreadful future from coming about, I accidentally made it worse because I interfered?

That's why I needed the Valar.

But what if... What if I could gain their trust and approval early on? The elves I mean? What was it that Atar said? That being the first son of Fëanáro and the eldest grandson of Finwë meant that the pressure was harder on him, the expectations?

He was already talented, Atar. And I... What did I have?

I had magic. And I had more, much, much more.

I was a healer- and a Hogwarts student- in my third life. I was a warrior in my second, a princess and a queen consort. I was a reader in my first.

I was an elf who learnt at Rhunön's forge, the best scholars' and spellcasters of Ellesméra in my fourth life. I also had a gift for singing to plants. I knew how to build houses like in Ellesméra.

There was no Ancient Language in Eä but what if there was an equivalent? Quenya? Valarin?

The Quenya words sounded incredibly ancient and yet the most beautiful. Didn't the Ñoldor teach the trees how to speak? Wasn't that what the legends said?

And after all, wasn't magic simply the art of thinking? The Ancient Language was merely guidelines, as were the verbal and non-verbal spells. Speaking the words was done simply because stray thoughts could hinder the spell.

And I was here: the great-granddaughter- and heiress of that generation- of the Kings of the Ñoldor and the Teleri. The granddaughter of the most skilled and brilliant elf in Eä whose skill Sauron and Morgoth could only envy. And a sculptress so talented that people would mistake her creations as being living flesh and blood creatures.

And I was the descendant of Míriel Þerindë. As much as I disapproved of her- and was especially outraged about the fact that 1) she refused to return despite her rest and respite in Mandos and Lórien, to her son and husband, and 2) returning to life only after Finwë and Fëanáro and her grandsons had died or been doomed- she was the most skilled weaver.

And Elrond had been raised by my father and uncle. Elros too. Elrond was a great healer. What if... What if someone had taught him?

Someone like me?

I had been a weaver, embroidering, weaving and spinning fabric for Evandar and Islanzadí as well as singing to plants. I had learnt from Rhunön too. I'd built houses in Alagaësia, the elven way. I could do it here. I could establish a firm relationship, not just with all the kindred of the elves, but the dwarves and humans too.

"Estela?" Amil cooed. I blinked, wearily. I was lying on the soft cloth. When did I fall asleep?

"Come, melda yeldë." Amil picked me up. She switched to Lindalambë. "Let's get you inside. In a few days, we will be going to Alqualondë. And our cousins will be coming, isn't that exciting?"

Atar was inside.

"Maitimo?" Amil enquired. Atar gave a smile. I struggled with pushing back sleep. "Here. Let me take her." I felt his strong, warm hands lift me.

"How was it?" Amil asked.

"Not bad," he said with a smile. "Findekáno-"

"His wife has currently gone to Valmar to visit her kin." Atar replied. "Taking young Ereinion with her."

A Vanyarin? That was the mother of Gil-Galad? Now I was awake.

And as it turns out Ereinion was Findekáno's son after all. He might have been Artaresto- or Orodreth's son, or Findekáno's that part always confused me.

So his mother... That was another mystery solved. Findekáno married a Vanyarin, like his grandmother Indis the Fair. Oh, boy.

"Can you bathe her?" Amil asked. "I need to prepare supper."

"Are you sure?" Amil gave a huff. "Of course!"

Atar grinned. "In that case, off we go!" He cheerfully hauled me to the bathroom. That was a disappointment. Not because I disliked bathing, I wanted to know more!

After a clean bath and dinner, I was sent to bed. I slept. And dreamt.

Elves in Arda had incredibly vivid dreams, I heard. Now, this was going somewhere.

What I dreamt...

I dreamt of darkness. Darkness and shadow that consumed everything. Then I heard it.

And explosion of light, a cacophony of soundless, beautiful notes that could not be heard or perceived by any earthly ears lest their minds explode and nothing was left of them. A wondrous, sound of glee, love, joy, hope, excitement and more. And I felt them. The Ainur...

And Eru Ilúvatar. Glowing beings of bright, inextinguishable light burning so bright, though they seemed translucent, even transparent, I knew they were formed out of the light of the All-Father himself, and were more powerful, stronger and so much more than anything I had ever seen or imagined.

I heard them singing. And then something broke; a dark chord, a distant thing, but dark. Disturbing, breaking the peace, beauty and light. Something shattered. Something broke. The music stopped.

There was something... Or someone there. A being so dark and opaque, and growing darker by the very second. Something which promised to grow darker still.

Then I felt something shift. The All-Father had made it. Beings falling, the chosen Ainur like shooting stars, plunging and diving down from the Timeless Halls, the Heavens, and towards...

I felt- and saw- the All-Father gave a swirl from his hand. The music that had been made suddenly took shape and formed and fell into the very centre of the void.

Something grew there... Something solid.

Then that something burst all of a sudden, whole galaxies of stars, the entire cosmos of swirling light- like the stars of Varda. Swirling, swimming through the infinite dark, making it brighter, more beautiful than anyone could ever hope for it to be.

Eä.

And then rock came, a train of asteroids forming. And finally my eyes came to rest upon a great expanse:

Arda.

But not like Arda. I saw rough, jagged rocks jutting out towards the sky, a dirty red, not like blood. I saw it move and thrust sharply, suddenly turning around and shaking terrifyingly, quivering, violent, frightening. Lava boiled and jumped, leaping in ways that would scare anyone witless.

There were no seas or water. Instead, the oceans, seas, rivers, lakes and falls were of lava- molten rock and fire. Toxic gas, so poisonous, rose like smoke into the sky. It was violent, deadly, frightening.

Then there was static. Static electricity like lightning suddenly pulsing through the clouds of toxic gas, on and deep inside the rock. Powerful electrical impulses crackling and waving, reaching out, grabbing, a brilliant fire of light and life, affecting the rising volcanoes, the rock, the magma, the air- everything.

Everywhere they touched exploded. Sparks and spray so lava flew into the air, surges of energy everywhere. Lightning struck again. Mountains and volcanoes rose. The rock softened, tenderized, mixed with other substances, including congealing lava, chemical and gas, to become earth. Lightning and energy of all kinds and colours suddenly helped form the first mountains.

Or was it the All-Father and the Valar?

The mountains rose higher, the first soil emerged, touched by all the energy around it, and what appeared as lightning.

And suddenly, out of the burnt orange and red gas, water- river, no a sea! No an ocean! Where dry land, a peninsula, a bay or even an island emerged, made out of the first soil, amidst the first water.

And gradually the gas cleared to form something not toxic, but clean, fresh and healthy. The air above the land turned greyish-blue, and soon the land, not just their mountains, rose higher and it appeared vaguely green- was it already emerging with life?

They greyish-gas in the sky suddenly came together to form clouds, paling to white. The sky emerged for the very first time, blue and clear, and the water was clear as well. The soil was turning more and more green, which meant vegetation was fast emerging. The lightning and static electricity didn't stop, and kept going though they were considerably less than before. The mountains and Arda's crust shifted and kept growing in height, the north whitened and ice and snow grew upon it. The clouds moved up ahead.

Startling, I gasped for breath and woke up. What... What was that? I felt ice down my spine, I was completely cold all over.

What did I see?

I saw the creation of Eä. And Arda. That was what I saw.

Atar woke me in the morning, and same old routine. I was bathed, diapered and dressed up.

All the while my mind kept wandering to my dream, otherwise known as my vision.

I had seen the creation of Eä and Arda.

I had seen the Ainur before they took physical form. I had seen Morgoth. And I had felt the presence of Ilúvatar.

I had seen what no elf had seen.

I breathed out.

Atar glanced at me. "What ails you Little One?" His brow furrowed. "Why are you so silent this morning?"

I blinked up at him. I couldn't very well answer. Elves might master speech before their first year mark, but at this stage my vocabulary was limited. It was much too early to talk.

I had just finished my bath. Wrapped in a towel, Atar had deigned to place a clean diaper, some lotion, powder, oil and ointment on me, and had stopped looking in the drawers for my clothes.

"You are especially quiet for a baby," Atar sighed. "I used to think that was because you were a girl- compared to the hordes of brothers, nephews and cousins I have looked after, but now I see you are much to quiet." He looked worried. "Perhaps-"

Oh no. Not a doctor, or a healer. Or anything of the sort! I'm NOT mad!

Atar was interrupted by Amil poking her head in. "Maitimo-"

"She's almost done," Atar promised. "What is it?"

Amil pressed her lips together. "I'll... Tell you about it later. It's about our trip to Alqualondë."

"Right." Atar quickly dressed me. As a rule, babies should not be left unclothed, especially after washing, for long.

As soon as I was dressed and my hair combed, Amil carried me out.

"Artanis is coming, along with Findaráto, Angaráto, Aikanáro and Findekáno. Turukáno and Elenwë are bringing Itarillë. Arakáno and Írissë have decided to come, also."

"What of my brothers and their families?" Atar asked.

"Macalaurë and his family will never miss this opportunity. Our sister-by-marriage is excited to see her parents again." Amil smiled. "Tyelcormo and the twins are coming. He has had... Trouble with his... Friend. "

"The maiden from Formenos?" Atar frowned. "He has worst luck than I before I married." He grinned at Amil. "And I give thanks to Ilúvatar and the Valar every day, you cannot possibly imagine how grateful I am." He kissed her.

"Poor Tyelcormo though," Atar sighed. "But then again, he will probably move onto another."

Amil sighed, rolling her eyes. "You know your brother all too-well. I don't understand what the problem he has with remaining in a lasting courtship. Surely it cannot be that all the maidens he takes an interest in-"

"Maybe," Atar shrugged. "But maybe they are just not suited to one another." He looked at her pointedly. "It does happen you know."

So Tyelcormo had another failed romance. Good grief, at this rate, he will undoubtedly go for Lúthien. And to prevent disaster, I had to stop that from happening. Another thing on the list!

"Speaking of which," he said changing the subject. "My grandfather would also like to see her. But he's not the only one. The Valar have requested that we bring her to the foot of Taniquentil."

Amil stopped dead and stared at him. So did I.

"The Valar?" She asked, breathlessly. "Why?"

Maitimo frowned, looking rather worried. "I do not know. They would not say. We are allowed to go to Alqualondë and Tirion first, but upon our return, we must bring Estela to Taniquentil."

Well, this was sure to be exciting, interesting, terrifying, nerve-wracking and so much more.

"It's because of what they said, isn't it?" Amil asked, still seemingly without breath. "When we asked and prayed... When you went to Taniquentil..."

Atar frowned deeper. "I know not, but it might just be that." He admitted softly, looking at Amil and I.

"They said..." Amil didn't seem to be gazing at anything in particular. "When the light of Telperion blooms at its fullest and the stars in the sky shine brighter than ever, our daughter was to be born outside of the cities of the Ñoldor and Teleri. Hope she is, and hope she will be to those who have none, whom fate and suffering would have destroyed. But a gift she is too all, and therefore..." She trailed off.

At this point I was frozen, thunderstruck. WHAT?! What did the Valar know? What was going to happen?

How much did they know about me? Who the heck was I kidding? These were the Valar! Nothing goes by on Arda without their knowledge, and Ilúvatar may have told them!

Amil shook her head. "The visions... The ones I had when I was carrying her."

Atar himself was silent and still as a stone.

"What did they mean?" She asked aghast. "I knew she would be a hope, but there were so many visions, and all sorts of things were happening, and some-" she halted instantly. Atar instantly went and embraced her and me.

So something was going to change because of me, I thought.

"Let's go to Tirion first," Amil urged. "Make things a little easier. We need to pack things up, after all, don't we? And meet with our kin see what supplies they're taking along with them, and add everything together."

Atar nodded. "Let's go see my parents first."

Fëanáro and Nerdanel lived outside of Tirion too. With my mind buzzing with fear, shock, awe and more, I was beyond any comprehension. But I had the feeling that I was going to find out more.

Their house was large- it had to be, due to having seven sons each with their own needs, likes, hobbies and interests. Not to mention, the house had a forge for Haru and workshops for both of them. Haruni also needed her own space and environment to devise her sculptures, and I was willing to bet Haru did too.

We headed to Haruni's workshop and artisan's space. It had no paintings, but countless murals and frescoes made up of scenes, shapes and Tengwar calligraphy of sayings and poetry, abstract art and scenes made up of a variety of colours. As we entered that building, I saw Haruni, hard at work.

My eyes nearly popped out of my head, as I beheld the wonders that was her work. I had seen things in my parents house which nothing could compare in my previous lives, and no person from any of those worlds could have possibly imagined. The furniture, dishes, cutlery, even the toys and mobile and crib must have been made by hand due to the work of Fëanáro, Nerdanel, my father, mother, uncles and aunts, both Ñoldor and Teleri. Things so beautiful and dazzling that my nursery and its contents was worth more than the Koh-I-Noor diamond and the rest of the queen's gems and symbols of power in the Tower of London.

And here it was: raw work done by Nerdanel the Wise, everything was more life-like than the statues at Madame Tussauds, yet they were made of stone, some metal. These elves and animals, trees and plants. There were no words to describe it, simply no words. The perfect, details, shape, proportion all seemed to beautiful to be real, and yet they were more life-like than anything artisans had produced in my previous lives. They made the statues in septs and other monuments look like they were crudely clumped together out of mud. Not even the works in Ellesméra could compare.

And Nerdanel's shone with a vibrance and brilliance, so real, and so assured, that they moved without meaning, their legs, their arms, torsos, necks, heads, even hair moved in the wind. They were motion. They spoke and chattered in their voices, or in the sounds of animals which only Tyelcormo and Oromë and his Maiar could understand. They had bones, flawless skin or rich fur, lustrous hair, eyes full of life, not cold stone. I could see every strand of hair or fur, see every muscle whether tense or fluid in motion beneath their skins. Everything was captured more than perfectly: the souls, the hearts, intent, emotions and thoughts were all there waiting to be read like a book.

Even my parents who had seen things like these countless times, could not help but be entranced.

Suddenly I pointed. Out under a shaded gazebo, hung with wisteria and honeysuckle, my grandmother sat, chiselling away. This building was full of finished sculptures it was only outside that she worked so the dust, stone-chippings and flakes could not get inside.

I pointed my finger. "Haruni!" I called out.

Nerdanel paused, and looked up a brilliant smile on her face as she beheld the three of us. "Amil!" Atar called out. "We are to depart to Alqualondë a few days hence."

"Yes," Haruni's smile widened. "Ambarussa were practically buzzing with excitement, about to burst through their skins. Tyelcormo is looking to get away too." Her smile disappeared and she looked mournful. But the smile was back again and she embraced the three of us, taking me into her arms.

"I wanted to check the load of supplies see how much they're bringing in case of horses." Amil said.

"No need to worry about that." Haruni waved a casual hand, shifting me on her hip. "They will be bringing their own horses. But I have one request."

"What is it, Amil?" Atar asked.

"Please take Telperinquar with you," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Honestly. Curufinwë Atarinkë, all he ever does is work and study. The child is the same. It's a good thing their mother understands both sides of the argument. But Telpe needs to get out more."

"It would do him a world of good to see Alqualondë and the ocean," Atar admitted. Amil nodded.

"Carnistir is occupied," she admitted. "Curufinwë is currently with him and Tyelcormo." She looked weary. "I am beginning to lose hope of my third son ever finding happiness."

"Have a little faith." Atar said, taking me back. "I wasn't so lucky in love either. And the happiness, love and bliss at the end of the long, hard journey made it all the more sweeter." He glanced adoringly at my mother.

"I understand." She said quietly. "But I still worry." She rolled her eyes. "You know that people are writing fanciful tales about the sons of Fëanáro and their wives."

"Oh?" Amil asked dryly. "Yes, they make each love story sound like a poem, a masterful work of art, or some mythic tale. The story about Curufinwë's marriage is that he sculpted his own wife out of clay in dreaming of the ideal mate, and Ilúvatar pitying him in his lovesickness, breathed life into her.."

Atar snorted. "That would be like that brother of mine."

"I suppose her parents aren't around to prove otherwise?" Amil asked.

Haruni shook her head. "Come. Let us find your Atar."

Now wasn't that puzzling. If anyone had entertained such ideas... I'm sure there were plenty of stories around Tirion about the sons of Fëanáro and their wives, how they won their hands and hearts. I knew that all elves in Arda and Alagaësia did not go into any union, mated or married unwillingly. There was no such thing as an arranged marriage.

But something told me the official records were only the thinnest layer of icing on the many-layered cake.

Estela is beginning to experience vivid dreams and visions. I admit, I've always believed apart from Tyelcormo/Celegorm and the twins the sons of Fëanor would have had their own families, including spouses in Valinor. After all, the Eldar married young during their time in Valinor, and Curufin was the fifth of Fëanor's seven sons. Even then, Fëanor and his sons would have inspired quite a fair bit of mystique and awe amidst the ordinary elves, even the royals, due to Fëanor's birth, his accomplishments and seven, very outstanding children.

Estela has begun her planning and next chapter we meet Telperinquar/Celebrimbor.

Names:

Maitimo: Maedhros

Fëanáro: Fëanor

Findekáno: Fingon

Macalaurë: Maglor

Tyelcormo: Celegorm

Carnistir: Caranthir

Curufinwë Atarinkë: Curufin

Ereinion: Gil-Galad

Telperinquar: Celebrimbor

Findaráto: Finrod.

Angaráto: Angrod

Aikanáro: Aegnor

Turukáno: Turgon

Írissë: Aredhel

Arakáno: Argon

Ambarussa: (used to refer to Amrod and Amras both)