Moving to a new camp
The winter this year turned out to be a harsh and difficult one. Miriwë and the other clothing makers in the tribe was kept busy, as more fabric for blankets and anything that could help keep the huts warm, was needed. Finding firewood and small games for some fresh meat was also far from easy, even with knowing where to find it.
"I think this is the worst winter I can ever remember in my life yet!" Beril said as she entered the weaving hut, quickly apologizing for the sudden cold wind and snow she brought along inside at the complaints from those sitting straight in the way of the opening.
"Many of the elders says the same, it is a harsh winter indeed."
Beril shook off the snow caught on the wolf fur she was wearing, Miriwë raising an arm to block off the melting snow from landing on the fabric he just had finished weaving. It was meant to become an extra thick blanket for the newest baby in a family which, apparently, had chosen a less than ideal time for being begotten the previous winter. Elflings born in mid-winter and late-winter time was said to be not be as strong as children born in the other seasons due to not having access to nutritious food in the winter in the same scale as during summer, for example.
"Let's hope that it soon will be less snow fall, but it feels like there is another storm coming…"
Suddenly, there were the sounds of thunder fast approaching. Judging from the sounds above the camp, it was most likely a big thunderstorm.
"Oh no...do not tell me that…"
In the next moment, the thunderstorm broke loose all over the sky. Bolts passed by, some of them even hitting one another. The overall noise was deafening, and the resulting light nearly blinded those outside as they were used to the starry sky, not this kind of light.
"AAAAAH!"
Terrified screams was heard, more than one of the Elflings had been terrified by the light, now rushing around in honest panic and crying for their mothers.
"Mama!"
"Get the children back into the huts…!"
"That tall tree has been struck by the lighting!"
One of the tallest trees around the camp was now set on fire, and what was even worse, a second lighting bolt spit it in half, now falling straight into the camp.
"Get out of the way, do not just stand there! Run out of the hut!"
Once Beril barked out that order, other Elves were quick to do the same:
"Run, run! Get out of the huts around the weaving hut!"
A push in his back made Miriwë run out, dragging two preteen children with him in order to keep them safe.
It was only by pure luck that no one got stuck under the burning tree, but several huts, among them the weaving hut, were set on fire when the animal skins and dried grass in the walls caught fire from the tree. The strong wind did not help either, in fact more huts risked to be become a sea of fire if they did not put out the growing fire quickly.
"Use the snow as it will melt into water! Make the children help by throwing snowballs from a safe distance!"
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Once the last of the large fire had finally been put out, the full damage was revealed.
"At least ten huts are destroyed or unsafe to live in, including the weaving hut. Nearly half the fence around the camp are ruined due to the burning tree setting it on fire when it landed, meaning higher risk that we will be vulnerable against the Yellow-Eyes if they attack… and the huts with dried meat and fruits were damaged as well, meaning that we have less food than before…"
No one could mistake the dread in Beril's voice as she counted up, this was indeed a grave catastrofe for the tribe. Surviving winters was hard, and with how the weather was currently…
"Allow me to have a meeting with the elders about what to do, try and make sure that no one is seriously injured."
That was something most of the tribe could do. No one had died, thankfully, but several Elves had suffered burns or similar injuries in the panic caused by the first fire. Getting your home set on fire was horrible, especially if you had family members still inside. And in panic, it was easy to trip over things you failed to notice.
"Sorry," Miriwë said as he tried to sew up a wound on a young girl, hoping that with closing the wound by sewing it would not be a big scar later, since she understandably cried from the pain. The mother told him that he did not need to apologize, the fire had shocked everyone in camp and the daughter was very upset over the loss of her beloved straw doll which her father had created earlier in the autumn for her begetting-day.
"The straw doll was lost? Yes, I can understand that would make you very sad, little sweetie. Your father is very skilled in making those dolls and naturally his own daughter would get the finest work he can make," Miriwë assured as he finished the last stitch. The girl had been the last one of Elves in need of his sewing skills for closing the wounds, it was only during the last few years that some of the tribe hunters had suggested to Miriwë that he would try to sew up wounds after boiling the thread and bone needle in hot water first to avoid infections.
"With nearly half the camp destroyed… and in winter, the worst season… we are very vulnerable right now, against the cold with fewer huts and with the fence ruined as well…"
Everyone knew what this meant, a much higher risk of Orc attacks. They could set out guards around the camp, since the tribe was pretty big with at least 300 members in total numbers, but those would need to be changed regularly and not everyone in the tribe was able of using deadly weapons for various reasons such as age, injuries or just plainly what they worked with in the tribe.
"Let's hear that Beril and the Elders will say, before doing anything else than the necessary."
It was almost time for the evening meal, the food being prepared for cooking in the clay pots, when the camp saw their leader and the Elders again. All of them looked serious, but who would not do that in a situation like this? Beril took a deep breath before addressing everyone present:
"We needed to talk a lot after the fire, as you all must have noticed. It took some time to get into a full agreement, but we have finally agreed on what which is needed to be done—we need to abandon this camp and move closer to a larger camp with other Elves."
Even if she did not say it out aloud, the adults realized the unspoken reasons. It was near impossible to repair the fence now in winter with snow and the winter cold, their food supply had decreased due to the fire, and several of the huts could not be used anymore because of burning down to the ground.
"I take that we will leave as soon as possible, then, sister?" Miriwë asked while his sister was on the way to walk past him.
"Preferably after breakfast tomorrow. The faster we can get away from here, the lesser the risk that the Yellow-eyes will see that our camp is vulnerable from the fire today."
That was reasonable enough, and would give them time to pack everything needed for the travel. The tents made of animal skins was not as comfortable as the huts in winter, but sleeping together would make more heat to stand against the night cold.
As per orders, once a quick breakfast was finished, everyone helped to pack together what they could bring along. Miriwë had been worried that they would need to leave the warp-weighted looms behind because of their size and weight, but Beril had insisted that those needed to be brought along so they could still weave clothes as usual. Lucky, some of the horses and dogs had been trained to pull a sleigh with a board harness of leather and skin across the chest and shoulders, meaning that those who could not ride the horses or using the skis of wood could travel in the sleighs. The more heavy loads, which was not safe for the horses to carry if having several parts, went into those sleighs as well.
"Everyone ready? Then lets go!"
Taking the lead, Beril rode out of the old camp first, other riders following her or making the dogs start pulling the sleighs. Miriwë, who had offered to be one of the scots riding ahead in order to check for danger, took one final look on the camp over his shoulder. It felt sad to leave the the place called home for so many years, but his sister was right; they needed to move closer to other Elven tribes for safety. Winters was dangerous times, for several reasons.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Many wake-periods later, the three new leaders for the Noldor, Teleri and Vanyar clans was holding a meeting together to help sorting some issues which had happened between the camps. In general it was no big things, but it was important to ensure that it did not end up growing into bigger problems in the long run.
"Thank you for coming. Any others who needs our help in solving a problem?" Ingwë asked to another Elf, while stoking the fire with a small piece of wood, planning to build some hot tea for his friends and himself by adding some dried herbs into the boiling water in the pot over the fire.
"Not at the moment… hm?"
It seemed to be some kind of crowd gathering at the left side of the Noldor camp. Excusing himself to his leader, the Vanyarin Elf hurried away to see what it was.
"Hopefully it is just some of the kids getting into a disagreement," Finiel said while Elwë only nodded. They had finally started to talk again to each others when he had returned from the small travel earlier that autumn, but Ingwë had a strong feeling that he needed to watch his two friends. A new argument like that one, could possible damage their friendship to the point that it was ruined beyond repairing.
"Those two really need to find a mate each. I can almost feel in the air that some of their issues is sexual tension normally fixed with a long, nice time of letting body and soul melt into each other," he thought with a not so small part of longing for that especially powerful night when he and Isilmiel had begotten Ingwion. The shock of first sensing that tiny little soul come into being, followed by a stunned joy as they had realized what it meant.
"My lords and lady, there is a tribe leader asking for an audience with you three. Something about needing a new camp around here…" a messenger Elf spoke from the hut's door opening, awaiting an answer to give.
"Allow them into camp, and have the leader arrive here."
To be fair, neither one of the trio of friends expected who the tribe leader was. As Beril entered the hut followed by Miriwë, Finiel blushed slightly at the sight of the brother while Elwë gave her an angry glare in memory of their first meeting at the river a few months ago. Ingwë elbowed them both in the ribs, easily done since he was sitting in the middle, to remind the two to not act stupid now.
"Welcome, lady Beril. I admit that we had expected the next meeting until summer-time, but I guess that there is a reason for you to arrive here?" Ingwë asked to which she nodded before telling how their tribe's old camp had been partly destroyed from the fire in the thunderstorm and now hoped that there would be a place close this big camp where they could live.
"Well, the big lake is at the south, so that is ruled out…"
"And the Teleri camp is growing as well, there is no place there unless the two camps were to overlap," Elwë said straight away, to which Beril raised an eyebrow against him.
"Finiel?"
"Well… the Noldor camp is more towards the forests, but I do not know if we would be able to fell trees to make room for a new camp there, not in this cold season at least…" she confessed while trying to not stare straight on Miriwë who was standing at the door opening. It seemed like Beril had caught that on as well, with the way she suddenly blocked the view of her brother by standing in front of him. Sensing a possible danger, Ingwë was quick to say:
"Your tribe is welcome to share camp with the Vanyar until spring comes and you can set up a camp of your own beside us."
Beril nodded in agreement, before silently ordering Miriwë outside with a head nod. He could lead the tribe to their new place of living while she finished the last part of the agreement with Ingwë.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Of course, they had not expected it to go smoothly. Having a new group of Elves settle up camp among those who already was there, was an invitation for troubles. There was a few arguments and protests the first days, before things calmed down somewhat.
At the time of spring arriving, Beril and Miriwë was pleased to see that their tribe had blended in nicely among the bigger ones and there seemed to not be any issues.
"Well, sis, looks like our tribe is living a good life here. I miss the old camp in the oak forest at times, but I understands why you wanted to move here for better protection," he said after finishing sewing a new leather belt for her.
"Thank you for the belt. I will be around if you need me."
She did not say why, but Miriwë knew. He generally tried to avoid places where he could run into young She-elves who may swoon at his presence.
"I will bring this cloak to lady Finiel," Miriwë said, to explain where he would go, "she requested a new one a few weeks ago since her old one was getting very worn out."
Beril nodded, knowing that new Noldor leader was unlikely to try anything against her brother despite the look in her eyes at times. As a leader, her behaviour was often closely watched by those around her to ensure that any bad habit was not repeated by children around.
"I will be back as soon as I can."
Given Miriwë's history of rather aggressive attempts to sexual assaults from She-elves in the past, he had made a habit of always bringing a friend with him if he was to leave his own tribe. Today, he was joined by a Noldor Elf named Rumil who he had befriended over the winter season.
"You are still trying to figure out a different way to use tattoos?" Miriwë wondered at seeing that the red henna tattoos on his friend's arms seemed to have been altered, especially as Rumil was not a warrior and thus did not have any permanent tattoos on his body.
"Yes, I can not get that idea out of my mind," he confessed, ruffing a hand through his black hair. Miriwë used side-glares to look on the tattoos, almost seeing a pattern of some kind. He could tell that Rumil had a point, but that his friend still had some time to figure out what he was searching for.
Soon enough, they spotted Finiel just as she left a hut, likely belonging to one of her female friends.
"Ah, there you were, Miriwë! I was beginning to wonder when the cloak would be finished." she smiled at him.
"It is harder to weave in winter due to the cold season, even if it is warm inside the weaving hut," he explained while holding out the cloak so she could see it in all its length. For some reason, he had felt extra inspired when making it, in a strange way he had not been before. Perhaps from knowing who it was to? Miriwë had been having crushes on She-elves before ever since he was old enough to understand the meaning of romance, but this was nothing like how it had been with the others.
"Well, I am pleased with this cloak. It is very nice to see new ways of creating clothes, as it is pretty hard to find enough soft grass for weaving clothes during winter and we can not hunt too many animals."
Miriwë nodded in agreement, choosing to keep quiet as he doubted that it might come out as planned. After some more small talk, Finiel left to do some of her other duties.
"You likes her, right?" Rumil spoke once she had left, and Miriwë could only blush slightly. That much was true, but he was unsure if she felt the same. As a Clean leader, Finiel could not just choose anyone to be her mate, it had to be someone who could lead the Noldor if something happened to her before a pregnancy and did not have a chosen backup heir.
"I will need to speak with Beril as well. I am free to marry who I wishes, but I would like my mate and my sister to get along with each other since I would prefer to not choose between them in a bitter argument…"
A movement in the corner of his eye forced him to stop talking, before Miriwë tried to avoid Vanië. She had bothered him a lot ever since a meeting earlier that winter when Ingwë had greeted his whole family, and seemed to not respect his refusal at all.
"Miss Vanië, I have told you that I am not interested in a courtship between us," Miriwë said aloud, having spotted a male Vanyarin Elf who was rumoured to hope taking Vanië as a possible mate and he did not want to be caught in a situation that could be horribly misunderstood. Vanië was a pretty young She-elf, that was true, and she was much sought-after as a sister to the leader of the Vanyarin elves, but Miriwë had felt an instinct to not trust her for some strange reason, as if she would bring a great deal of unhappiness towards him one day in the future. If it was some kind of warning, he did not know, but he had never had any reason to doubt his instincts before.
"Why? Everyone knows that as the sister…"
He quickly cut off her incoming bragging about her social status as Ingwë's sister with five simple words:
"You are not my type."
Miriwë knew that he was inviting himself to suffer her wrath by saying the truth, but he really did want Vanië to stop pestering him and trying to hook him as a future mate. If she did not respect his personal space at this state, then there was a very high risk that she would not respect the personal wishes of a future mate either. And he would rather be seen as a coward in refusing her than risk a unhappy life.
"You…!"
Her fair face now marred by wrath, Vanië raised a hand to strike Miriwë, yet Rumil used a cut-off piece of reed to distract her by jabbing at her hand, and when she turned around to face him, Miriwë realized what he had done, and hurried away as Rumil took the slap originally meant for him.
Beril had just finished a training match when her brother came running into the clan camp and hid himself inside their shared home hut. Everyone who saw it only grew more confused when Rumil arrived quickly afterwards, his left cheek spotting a red handprint that would not have matched the long, slender hands Miriwë had.
"Rumil, what happened? Did you and my brother have a disagreement?" she asked in worry. Rumil, who had been offered a wet piece of cloth to lay against his swelling cheek, responded:
"Not us, lady Beril, but I think lord Ingwë really should try and have his sister partake in the mating ceremony this summer, and to a mate that is not Miriwë, for her own good before she does something to him that will turn things ugly."
Realizing the untold words, Beril's black eyes grew hard in cold fury. She said nothing but the brutal way in which she drove her spear into the training target told everything what she thought about this.
"I will go and talk to Ingwë about this unacceptable behaviour of his sister. Ensure that no one bothers Miriwë until I return, please. He has enough of an unpleasant past with young females that do not respect him and only sees his fair face."
No one dared to protest, not when knowing how protective Beril was of her only sibling.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
True enough, only days later there was rumours of Ingwë seeking for a mate for his sister, and that he was set on having her joined to a mate after the summer festival. Why, most people did not know but there was some small gossip of Vanië possibly risking to make herself heavy with child if she was not mated soon. While it was no big scandal about a unwed mother refusing to name the father of her child, it was in general preferable that a mother-to-be had a husband at her side since otherwise she risked to become a burden to her own family who gained a extra mouth to feed by her unborn child. For families that already struggled with having enough food for growing Elflings in various ages, that could be a lot of trouble. And even worse if the mother-to-be was an orphan, since that would mean that the whole tribe had to ensure that she had food, clothes and a roof over her head.
Anyone with common sense feared to become a burden to the home tribe or clan, as that would mean the lowest social status of them all; that of someone could not care for himself or herself at all. Injuries and sickness was one legal excuse, but attempting to live off others without anything in return was not.
Miriwë was sewing a new tunic when he heard about those rumours about Vanië's soon-to-be changed future.
"I hope that Ingwë will manage to find her a good mate and future father to her children, then," was all he said. Despite not liking Vanië, it would be very out of character for him to wish an unhappy marriage for her. In that way, he was milder in his temper than Beril, thought there was the rare time when they had proved to be siblings when being angry for some reason.
"And I am glad that she will not marry you. I like Ingwë as a fellow clan leader, but if his sister behaves like that towards you despite your open protests, we can not trust her to listen to any attempt to stop her. Yes, making her marry this summer may be a bit desperate, but if it is the only way to make her stop bothering you…"
Beril felt a bit of shame over all of this, especially as Ingwë had confessed similar fears about his sister's behaviour since he had gotten similar complaints from other families that she had been behaving in a less than acceptable way towards a son or brother, but as things looked right now, there was no other way around the problem: Either Vanië had to get joined with a mate soon, or Beril would have to move her tribe away to give her brother peace. And since Beril had preferred to not need to move her small tribe for the second time in only two seasons, she and Ingwë did agree on that Vanië were to be among the brides to be in the mating ceremonies this coming summer festival.
"Sister dear, it is not your fault. You are only doing what you and Ingwë think is for the best."
By now, Miriwë had finished the tunic laying on his crossed legs, reaching over to take her long hair and transform it into a braid which would fall long her back.
At the same time, Vanië felt both angry and humiliated as never before. Ingwë had always threaten her that one day, she would go too far in her manners against male Elves she found attractive and she would find herself among the brides for the next mating ceremony as punishment, one reason or another. Now he had made that threat come true, this was to be her last season as a unwed maiden before being mated to a Vanyarin hunter. Someone she had spoken with at times, yet also dismissed as not being a man of her taste.
"As if I will be pleased with a marriage not of my own choosing! I wanted to be the wife of a chieftain, not some common hunter! That Miriwë...how dare he refuse me as a mate?! As if Finiel is prettier than me…!"
In reality, the truth simply was that she really was not someone Miriwë truly fancied when it came to a life-long mate, and he had been drawn to Finiel because she was similar to Beril in being a leader, which Vanië failed to realize. The blonde She-elf was already beginning to think out how to serve a revenge best served cold to Finiel and Miriwë over this change in her life, as she did not dare to go against her brother and she was honestly terrified of Beril's skills with a spear.
"Should I try to… no, no, a daughter would be seen through straight away, especially by those who knows that I have tried to hook Miriwë as a mate!"
Then she realized something, which could work even better as revenge over this. A cruel smile marred her fair face as she went out from the hut to meet up with her future husband, who had been chosen by Ingwë the same morning.
"Let's see how well you can hide Finiel's eyes and heart from a younger rival one day, Miriwë! I shall wait, I shall await the glorious day to see you replaced by her side as a consort by my future son! All I will need, is for you to make a mistake that shall doom your life with her!"
Laughing in triumph at the mental image she had floating in her mind,Vanië gave a false smile as greeting to her future husband as he looked up in surprise at seeing her come over to him.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Author's note: Let's just say that some people can go to great heights of planning future revenge for a public humiliation, especially when love and lust are involved into the mess as well.