Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's work, but the OC's are mine along with some locations (Like Pessmenel)
Enjoy!
Mornar's eyes fluttered open in response to the beam of sunshine falling on his face. He sighed, wincing at the crick in his neck.
Where was he?
Before he could even finish his train of thought, he caught a light whiff of apple blossoms and wild lilies.
He'd recognize that soap anywhere!
He looked over to see Alquawen sound asleep beside him, her head against his shoulder.
She was beautiful, regardless of the hay in her hair, or the wrinkles in her dress. A peaceful look rested on her fair face, causing a smile to cross his own.
Tinnuhâl gave a quiet snort as he slowly woke up.
"Morning, lad." Mornar whispered as he lightly scratched behind the horse's ear. "Quiet now, you might wake her up."
Tinnuhâl gave no other response other than a light huff before falling asleep again. The elf chuckled slightly at the reply he'd gotten, though his mirth soon turned into a grunt as Tinnuhâl plopped his head against his master's chest once more.
But, that was alright, as far as Mornar was concerned, because it meant that he'd gained the stallion's trust.
Alquawen suddenly shifted in her sleep, burying her face into the crook of his neck, causing his cheeks to turn a deep shade of pink.
As though fate was against him, Beleg rounded the corner at the exact moment. He stared at them, surprise in his features, and Mornar couldn't help being worried about being caught with Alquawen by Beleg.
The marchwarden smiled, much to the Nargothrondian's relief and amazement.
"Looks like you're a little bit stuck." He commented with a light laugh at Mornar's predicament.
"It would appear so." Mornar wheezed with a wry grin from beneath the stallion and the elleth.
"I was wondering what happened. She went to bring you food last night and never came back."
He suddenly realized that she had a plate of food clutched in her hands.
"I don't remember her even arriving. I think I might have already been asleep when she got here."
Beleg nodded in understanding.
"I wouldn't recommend eating the meat since it's been out for a few hours, but the blackberry tart should still be alright. Al made it too." He started walking away, much to Mornar's surprise. "Oh, and she likes to sleep in!" He heard Beleg call back to him. "You might be stuck there till noon, mellon!" Beleg walked out of the stable, a smile on his face.
He rather liked playing matchmaker.
"Thanks so much for the help!" Mornar huffed as he sincerely hoped that Alquawen would not sleep until noon.
Though part of him couldn't help wishing that she would, simply so he could stay in the sweet surrender he was in, just so she'd be comfortable.
His stomach growled, and he carefully eyed the tart.
Finally, his curiosity got the best of him yet again, and he reached around Tinnuhâl, rescuing the blackberry dessert from where it was precariously leaning on the edge of the plate.
He looked it over carefully.
He used to think that he had a strong stomach, but since he'd come to Doriath, he discovered it was quite the opposite. He had a strong stomach when it came to his own cooking, which consisted of wild herbs and small game he'd caught, but sugar?
Until he'd arrived in Pessmenel, the sweet substance had been completely unknown to him. He'd gotten sick once or twice, but refused to tell Alquawen for fear of offending her or making her feel as though she had to change her cooking style for his sake.
Her cooking wasn't bad, it was just a bit too sugary for him.
He carefully took a bite, his eyes lighting up in pleasant surprise.
There wasn't a huge amount of sugar at all.
He finished the rest slowly, savoring the flaky crust and ripe berries.
"I hope she makes more of these next time!" He thought to himself as he licked the remaining berry juice from his fingertips.
Alquawen started to stir, much to his relief.
"Morning." He murmured, lightly tucking some of her silver locks behind her ear.
"Mmm? Wha time is it? She mumbled sleepily, still refusing to open her eyes.
"About eight, I think."
She slowly opened her eyes, her blue depths widening as she realized that they were in the stable.
"Oh, Valar, did we fall asleep in here?"
"It would appear so." He said with a small smile.
"It would also appear that you ate that blackberry tart!" She laughed, wiping a little bit of blackberry off the tip of his nose. "And we better start going before Aearon goes to work!"
Mornar nodded eagerly.
In order to pay for Tinnuhâl's care at the stable, he'd have to get a job, and according to Alquawen, Aearon needed someone to work odd jobs at the infirmary.
Not exactly his forte, but he was more than willing to do anything to keep Tinnuhâl.
"Let's get going then. Come on, Tin, get off of me!"
The stallion picked his head up with a tired huff, plopping back down in the soft hay, and swiftly falling asleep again, causing both elleth and ellon to laugh.
They walked out of the stable, not caring about their appearances, hay in their hair and clinging to their clothes.
"Look, there's Aearon!" Alquawen cried, pointing to her mentor. "It must be at least nine o'clock!"
They raced after the master healer of Pessmenel, hay flying off of them.
"Aearon!"
He whirled around, confusion written on his face at the sight of them covered head to toe in hay, wearing the same clothes from the last night, but he didn't ask what on earth happened.
"Yes?"
"I was told you needed someone to work some odd jobs around the infirmary, and I need to get a job so I can meet the monthly payments for Tinnuhâl's care at the stable." Mornar explained, once Alquawen had nudged him, gently prompting him to speak for himself. Aearon nodded quietly, realizing that this proposition not only gave him the help he so desperately needed, but also a chance to piece together the Nargothrondian's past, allowing the healer to help the exile better.
"Very well. Alquawen, you're on the morning shift tomorrow, correct?"
"Yes."
"Mornar will come with you, and I'll show him around. Do you think you're up for chopping wood?"
"I can try."
"Good, and if it's too hard on your shoulder, we can find something else. Make sure you're there at nine. Do you need anything for your injuries or Tinnuhâl's?"
"How did you-?" Alquawen spluttered, stunned that he knew what happened.
"Pessmenel's small, and word spreads fast." Aearon commented wryly. "Anyone who didn't know about Mornar knows about him now, and they unfortunately know him as the only one in this province who is crazy enough to accept a challenge like that."
Mornar grimaced, rubbing at the back of his neck with an inward groan.
He hadn't even been in Pessmenel for two weeks and he'd already completely blown his chances of blending in.
"And everyone who knows you as such would've paid good money to see Seregmîr and Thoronmîr's faces when you pulled it off!" Aearon laughed, immediately putting Mornar at ease. "It's high time their whole family was taken down a peg or two!"
"So, they're that bad, eh?"
"No," Alquawen snickered, "they're worse!"
"Well, I have to be on my way." Aearon said, once the laughter had subsided. "I'll see you both tomorrow."
"We best get going too." Alquawen murmured to Mornar once Aearon had left. "We ought to get cleaned up."
He nodded, grateful that Pessmenel had a source of hot water.
It was strange to think that he'd never felt hot water before he'd arrived in Doriath.
Or knew what sugar tasted like.
Or heard music.
Or danced.
"Valar, I've missed out on a lot…"
"Are you alright?" She asked, her blue eyes filled with concern for her quiet companion.
"Huh? Oh. Yes, I'm alright, just lost in thought."
"About what?"
"How lucky I am to be here."
Dînaerlinn groaned softly, closing her eyes as the bright morning sun streaming through her window stung them. A dull pain pulsed in her head, scolding her for having alcohol the previous night.
She sighed, inwardly wishing that she didn't get headaches as easily as she did, and that it took more than just one pint of ale to give her a hangover.
Braving the light, she slowly opened her eyes.
She was in her talan, in her bed, buried under the covers, with Brennil snuggled up against her, and Chatter curled up on the pillow beside her head, both of them still sleeping soundly.
She held Brennil a little bit closer, fighting back tears as the events of the festival slowly came back to her.
The sharp scent of alcohol flooding her senses, the strong hands holding her far too tightly, the uncomfortably warm feeling of someone breathing down her neck, it was all too similar to everything she'd been through.
"You're mine, elf bitch, and you're never going to be anything el-"
She gasped for breath, shaking her head as though the action would banish the voice inside her head.
She clawed at her shirt, finding comfort in the object around her neck.
The edain would take it away from her repeatedly, and she would get in trouble for always stealing it back.
It soon became a game to them, and they couldn't understand how a simple copper pendant could mean so much to her.
The value of the necklace was sentimental to say the least, but it held a secret as well.
It was a cool March night, preserving the small piles of snow on the ground for a little while longer. Dînaerlinn snuggled beneath her blankets, the past events of the day running through her mind.
She'd celebrated her eighth Begetting day, and had been so coddled by her family that she hadn't been able to visit Grandfather Rávasoron, since Grandfather Sîrgon and Grandmother Arfae had come to Nellnên all the way from Pessmenel to see her.
She'd have to figure out some way for her to escape into the woods from the suffocating affection from her family.
Tap, tap, tap!
She squeaked in fright, pulling her blankets over her head.
Tap, tap, tap!
She peeked over the covers.
The sound was coming from the window.
She couldn't see whatever it was, as the curtains were drawn than the shutters tightly shut.
She carefully climbed out of bed, clutching her pillow to her chest.
If it was a scary orc or goblin at her window, then she'd whack it clean off the deck!
She tiptoed towards the window, standing on a stool to reach the latch on the shutters, once she'd opened the curtains.
Without even looking to see who it was, she bopped the shadowy figure on the head with as much force as her little body could muster.
"Oomph!" The figure yelped, falling on his rear end with a whump.
"Grandfather!" She cried, her eyes wide as she looked at him, on the ground, rubbing at his nose. "Grandfather, I'm so sorry! I thought you were a goblin!"
"La-nyë i úvanima!" He huffed, a smile on his face as he stood up. "H-happy Beg-Begetting day!"
She gaped, speechless, before hugging him like she'd never let go.
He'd learned some sindarin just so he could wish her a happy Begetting day.
"C-close!" He quietly exclaimed, excitement in his voice, covering her eyes with his hand. She closed her eyes, feeling pleasantly surprised when something cool with a comfortable weight to it was slipped around her neck.
"O-okay, open."
She gasped in shock to see the copper pendant suspended from a thin chain around her neck.
Rávasoron watched with a smile, giving her a wink when she looked back up at him.
"Thank you so much!" She squealed, throwing her arms around his neck, causing him to laugh aloud at her joy.
"W-watch."
He carefully took the pendant, finding a small lever on the side.
Dînaerlinn squeaked in surprise as the top of the pendant popped off, revealing a smooth glass surface beneath. Under the glass was an ornate iron arrow, with many of the same designs etched into the copper frame cut into it. It was floating in water submerging the intricately carved copper on the underside of the pendant. Four tengwar characters were printed neatly on the top, bottom, and sides.
"Arrow… a-always point north." He explained, pointing at the character at the top of the pendant.
She looked up, finding the north star in the dark sky. Sure enough, the arrow was pointing right at it. She slowly spun around in a circle, her eyes widening as the arrow moved with her, consistently pointing at the star.
Rávasoron watched quietly with a smile.
"For ad-adventure. So you can find your way." She stifled a yawn as he pulled her into a gentle hug. "G-goodnight, pitya tavaril."
She mumbled a sleepy goodnight back to him, watching as he somehow managed to climb down the tree with only one arm, and then carefully raced back into the woods avoiding the guards that patrolled the village after dark.
Her door creaked open.
"Linn, why on earth are you out of bed? I could've sworn I heard voices…" Seregthoron murmured tiredly as he rubbed at his eyes.
The necklace caught his gaze, and a smile spread across his face.
"He gave you his old compass as a Begetting day present, eh?" He knelt down in front of her, carefully closing the compass. "If anyone asks you, it's just a necklace. The Noldor are the only ones who have technology like this."
"What's tech… technology?"
He laughed quietly, knowing that his sleep depreived mind couldn't handle such questions so late at night.
"How about I answer that one in the morning?"
She found the hidden lever, snapping open her compass.
It filled her with a sense of nostalgia every time she looked at it, reminding her of the time it was gifted to her, and her father secretly teaching her Quenya, allowing her to read the characters on the compass, and know what they stood for.
"F" for formen.
"H" for hyarmen.
"R" for rómen.
And "A" for andúnë.
It scared her, really, knowing just how much power flowed through her veins.
The darkness of the Avari, the light of the Noldor, and the magic of the Sindar, all in her blood.
She'd felt it at times, a sort of spark inside of her, but she didn't know how to control it.
She couldn't help but be somewhat grateful that Brennil wouldn't necessarily feel such power thanks to her human side toning it down.
She closed the compass at the sound of her daughter slowly waking up.
"Good morning, Nana!" Brennil greeted cheerily, yawning a little.
"Good morning, meleth."
The steam rising from the water in the bath house fogged the mirrors in the changing room. To Mornar, steam was a fascinating thing. It could be as thin as willow-the-wisps, or as thick as smoke. Hot water was also a new phenomena to him. He'd always thought it would feel like the air on a hot summer day, but when he experienced it for the first time in Pessmenel, he'd nearly leapt out of the water in shock at the way it burned him. However, once he got used to it, he found it rather enjoyable. The hot water forced his muscles to relax, and no one noticed his scars thanks to all the steam.
He carefully started pulling off his bandages, frowning at the sight of the stitches on his leg and shoulder. For some reason he wasn't healing as quickly as he should've been. Alquawen said that it was because he kept busting the stitches and also due to the fact that he had been malnourished, which he believed readily enough, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was something more.
He sighed, wrapping a towel around himself as he walked into the bathing chamber.
It was deserted and silent, heavy steam rising from the solitary pool of water.
Perfect.
He eased himself into the water, sighing softly in contentment as the hot water worked its magic, lessening the tension in his muscles.
If only it would loosen the grip the pain had on his heart.
He pulled his hair out of the ponytail he had it in, allowing his black locks to fall into his face. If he looked close enough, he could see the occasional grey streak, faint, but there nonetheless, created from years of stress and worry. However, despite the premature loss of pigment, his hair was still as thick as always.
He cleansed himself thoroughly, scrubbing at his scars like he could wash them away like dirt, or, at least, he wished he could wash them away like dirt.
Along with the memories.
And the pain.
The tears.
The blood.
The sweat.
The loneliness.
The sleepless nights.
The useless wishes and unanswered prayers.
The cold.
The hunger.
The anger.
The hatred.
He broke down, his tears creating ripples in the water.
He couldn't get rid of his past.
His past was what had shaped him into who he was.
A strong, tough as nails, independent ellon who'd once been an elfling who'd grown up way too fast.
But at the same time, the pain-filled, hard, almost unbearable past of his was also what created the compassionate soft side he had, allowing him to give others the kindness he'd never known himself.
To throw away his past was to throw away who he'd once been and who he'd become as a result.
He pulled himself out of the water, wanting nothing more than to get away from the turbulent thoughts racing through his mind.
At least for a while.
He wrapped the towel around himself, and walked back into the changing room.
He got half dressed, and was just about to replace his bandages when the door opened. He quickly backed up in surprise, ensuring that whoever was at the door couldn't see the crest.
"Oh! Sorry, Mornar, I didn't think anyone was in here."
A sigh of relief passed his lips.
Only Daecrist.
"That's alright. I'll only be a few more minutes, I just have to replace the bandages."
Daecrist stepped inside, his silver grey eyes scanning over the injury on the exile's chest.
Mornar looked down.
The welt was still red and angry, but it had scabbed over, and was surrounded by dark bruising.
"You really ought to let that one breathe… Valar, they were right when they said you got a thrashing."
"Only slightly." he joked with a wry grin, causing Daecrist to chuckle quietly.
They both knew from experience that the best way to deal with getting well and thoroughly beaten was to laugh at yourself rather than wallow in self pity.
"Either way, you managed to make some powerful enemies yesterday." Daecrist pointed out quietly, his expression unreadable.
Mornar's smile faltered.
"It's not the first time I've done that, and it's not the first time I've gotten my ass kicked." he muttered.
"I was afraid you'd say that." Daecrist sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Am I really that predictable?"
"Almost as bad as Cal."
Mornar huffed a laugh at the comparison as he carefully tried to wrap a bandage around his shoulder.
Daecrist's brow furrowed as he noticed a scar on his friend's ribcage, curling around his torso, almost reaching for his pectoral.
"Eh? What are- hey!" Mornar yelped as Daecrist strode over with purposeful strides, grabbed him by the arms, and forced him to turn around.
An unstable silence followed.
Mornar could feel his heart practically beating out of his chest.
The secret he bore was out yet again, and he knew he had no control over what would be said about it later.
"So that's what you meant about it not being the first time." Daecrist murmured, his tone so well controlled, Mornar had no idea what he was thinking. "You've already had a run in with the Bauglirions."
"You… you've heard of them?"
"Unfortunately. Lúthien refused a marriage proposal from one of them. That's the reason we were going to Nargothrond when we found you. Finrod was hoping to form a peace treaty to keep any fights from happening. Unfortunately, that never came to pass thanks to the edain… as far as I know, Finrod has denied any sort of connection to the attack, so we might still have a shot at making peace. I hope so, at least."
"Which one proposed to Lúthien?"
"I have no idea. It doesn't really matter though; a marriage to any one of them would've been bad. Which one did you end up running into?"
"Erynaur."
"Bauglir's youngest? I thought he was dead!" Daecrist said, surprised.
"No." Mornar said darkly, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "That was just a rumor. Erynaur was disowned for some reason or another… " he pulled his hair over his shoulder, allowing Daecrist a better look "that's why the top of the crest is different."
Daecrist's grip loosened, allowing Mornar to finish getting dressed, and start tying his hair back.
"For the love of Yavanna don't do that!"
Mornar looked over his shoulder, startled.
"Don't do what?"
"Tie your hair back like that! You've been found, Mornar, you're not lost anymore. I'll do it. Sit down on the floor, will you?"
The Nargothrondian did as he was told, mystified.
Daecrist grabbed a chair, pulled it over, and sat down behind him.
"Tsk. You didn't even brush it." The carpenter chided gently as he undid the piece of twine Mornar had been using to keep his hair back.
The next minute he felt a comb gently slide through his hair, working out the snarls. He then felt Daecrist take even chunks of his dark hair, and carefully begin plaiting.
It struck him like a thunderbolt.
Braids.
He'd never worn braids before…
He tried to look over his shoulder.
"Quit squirming! Good grief, you're worse than Cal when I'm trying to do his hair, and that's a nightmare in and of itself!"
Mornar laughed quietly at being compared to Callon yet again.
"What's it like? Having a child, I mean?"
"It's a mix of happiness and utter chaos, but at the end of the day it's just pure love, no matter how much they drive you up the wall at times. You're interested in having your own little one?"
"I'm not sure." Mornar admitted quietly. It seemed like such a daunting task… Would he be able to handle it? "I guess I'll just focus on finding the right elleth first."
"I think you already found her." Daecrist said with a knowing smile as he continued to braid. "I saw you both dancing last night, and if you and Al aren't a perfect match, I don't know what is."
He blushed deeply, secretly overjoyed that someone thought that he and Alquawen could work.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Daecrist was the perfect person to answer his questions.
"How… how do I tell her?"
"That you like her? That differs from elleth to elleth I'm afraid. But for Alquawen… I honestly think you just need to let her in. Your past is a mystery to all but yourself. As painful as it may be to go back, it's honestly one of the best ways you can let her know that you care for her because, in a way, you're reassuring her that you have nothing to hide, and that she has your trust."
Mornar fell silent.
He had a lot of thinking to do.
"And… done!" Daecrist exclaimed with a smile, tying his friend's hair back into a ponytail, as before, but with a braid on either side, starting behind each ear and ending in the ponytail.
"Thank you." he said breathlessly, reaching up to feel a braid.
"Not a problem. I won't tell anyone either." He added, meaning the crest.
"Thank you… I'm kind of scared to think about what might happen if the information that I was affiliated with the Bauglirions for a time fell into the wrong hands."
"I wouldn't worry about it too much. One of the perks about living in any sort of province is that there's sort of an unspoken 'no questions asked' rule. Everyone has some sort of secret, some worse than others."
"Worse than mine?"
"Well, I'm half vanyan, and as far as I'm concerned, that's one of the worst secrets in Pessmenel." Daecrist laughed.
Mornar looked at him in shock.
"My mother crossed the grinding ice, got separated, and ended up meeting my father. Oh, and she was a follower of Fëanor on top of all that."
"You… you didn't have to tell me all that."
"Well, you told me yours. Fair's fair after all."
"Thanks."
"Don't worry about it. Are you going to take my advice?"
"We'll see." Mornar said finally. "I've got a lot to think about before I make a move."
Daecrist nodded.
"Don't wait too long. Alquawen's a beautiful elleth. I can guarantee that you're not the only one who has feelings for her."
Mornar nodded, a slight sense of foreboding building up in his chest at the thought of another ellon with Alquawen.
True, if being with another was best for her, he wouldn't be angry.
Hurt, maybe, but if she was happy then it wouldn't bother him as much.
But if she wasn't happy, or if she wasn't being treated well… that was a different story.
Whoever she was with would pay dearly, that was certain.
"I better get going. Al's probably wondering where I am. Thanks again."
"Navaer."
Mornar walked out of the bath house, leaving Daecrist in peace.
He didn't take more than five steps before he was slammed into a wall.
"Why the hell did you come here? Out of all the places you could go, why here?!" Seregmîr hissed.
"Maybe because this is where I was brought?" Mornar growled back, shoving the noble's hands off his shoulders.
Seregmîr stiffened at the sight of the braids in his nemesis' hair.
It was a clear indication that the Nargothrondian wasn't leaving any time soon.
"Can't you take a hint? You're not wanted here." He snapped, trying to keep his composure under the glare of those strange violet eyes.
A smirk spread across Mornar's face.
"Never got an education. You'll have to do better than that to make me 'take a hint'."
The noble's fist collided with his cheekbone, stunning him for a few seconds as Seregmîr stalked away, shaking in fury.
Mornar stood there, speechless, rubbing at his face.
What did he do to earn the hatred he'd received?
The more he thought about it, the more he realized there was only one explanation.
Daecrist was right.
He wasn't the only one with his eye on Alquawen.
Alquawen walked through the woods, worried for her new friend ever present in her mind.
Beleg had told her about the chaos that had broken loose soon after she'd left the festival, and she couldn't help but wish she'd never left.
"Valar, if I'd only stayed for just a few more minutes, I could have helped her…"
"VARDA ABOVE! Bren, be careful! You'll break your neck if you fall!"
Alquawen looked up in surprise, only to see a small elfling up a tree with a squirrel, clinging to a branch upside down like a little monkey.
"Don't worry, Nana! I'm being careful!" Brennil giggled, her deep brown eyes suddenly settling on Alquawen. "Hey! Who are yo-ooah!"
Alquawen raced forward just in time to catch the falling peredhel.
"Brennil!" Dînaerlinn cried, sprinting towards her daughter, relief in her face as she rounded the corner to see her daughter in Alquawen's arms.
"Thank you." she breathed, visibly relaxing, as Alquawen set Brennil on the ground.
"Thanks!" Brennil squeaked, smiling as she clung to her savior.
"No trouble at all! Be a little bit more careful next time!"
The peredhel quickly promised she would and raced off again for more fun, leaving the ellith in peace.
"I heard about last night." Alquawen said quietly. "Are you alright?"
A tiny half smile made its way onto Dînaerlinn's face.
"I will be." she said, not sounding very convincing. "Why don't you stay for lunch? There's enough to go around. Besides, I owe you for the tea."
A small smile crossed her face.
"I'd love to."
Dînaerlinn smiled.
Alquawen briefly wondered how many visitors Dînaerlinn got.
If she got any at all.
"Right then! Come on, Bren! Lunchtime!"
They walked back to the cluttered talan, fixed a light meal, and talked for the next twenty minutes or so, simply enjoying the company.
"Nana?" Brennil asked suddenly.
"Aye?"
"Are we going to see Fernthîr today?"
Dînaerlinn froze.
"Who… who's Fernthîr?" Alquawen stammered.
Fernthîr.
Dead-Face.
Not a nice name.
"Brennil, can… can you let Alquawen and I have a bit of a chat by ourselves please? Now, now, don't give me that look, you're not in trouble, meleth. Go on, out you go! Go play with Chatter!"
Brennil slipped outside, worry etched on her face.
Dînaerlinn sighed, burying her face into her hands, trying to figure out how to put it all into words.
"Who's Fernthîr?" Alquawen asked again.
"Ever heard of the terror of Agarbail?"
"I… I can't say I have. Wasn't Agarbail a province that fell about thirteen years ago?"
"Aye. Before she fell, rumors spread about a monster that was found in the woods outside the province. A child, but a monster nonetheless… when Agarbail fell, it was assumed that the monster fell with her, but he didn't… I found him in the woods outside Pessmenel eight years ago."
"The monster is Fernthîr, isn't it?"
"Aye."
"Why, though? Especially if he's still young. Whatever did he do to be considered a monster?"
Dînaerlinn fell silent.
"He… Alquawen, he's half blood."
"How does that make him a monster? He's no different than Bren!"
"He's half orc." Dînaerlinn said bluntly, causing Alquawen to nearly choke on a mouthful of tea.
"Half orc? I didn't think that was possible…"
"It's not supposed to be, but it happened. Poor thing. He's been on his own most of his life. I'm trying to help him, but it's going to be very hard to get him to fit in with the rest of us. Visually he's just… off putting, to say the least. Hopefully he'll look a bit more like an elf when he's older… would you like to meet him?"
"Yes. If it will help him get used to others."
A small smile crossed Dînaerlinn's face.
"Let's go then."
They got up, went to the kitchen, and Dînaerlinn filled a small basket with food.
"Bren! Bren, we're going to go see Fern!"
"Al's coming too?! We can have a picnic!" She exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement.
"Aye!" Alquawen laughed. "Lead on!"
They walked into the woods, down winding, twisting paths past ancient trees and mud puddles. If she didn't have Dînaerlinn and Brennil to lead her back, Alquawen knew she would certainly get lost when they eventually returned after spending some time with Fernthîr.
Fernthîr.
Her imagination was already running away from her.
What did he look like?
Was he more orc than elf, or more elf than orc?
Or somewhere in the middle?
"Can you dim your light? It hurts his eyes."
Alquawen quickly did as she was told.
"Are we here?"
"Almost. Just to warn you, he may not take too kindly to this. He's rather self conscious."
"Nana!" Brennil cried as she came racing back over. "I just checked Fern's den! He's not there!"
Dînaerlinn frowned, closing her eyes, sensing around her.
"Fernthîr, I know you're there. It's alright, Fern, Alquawen's a friend."
"Linn told Fern she'd keep Fern a secret!" a husky voice called out from the trees in a pained, accusatory tone.
Alquawewn couldn't help but notice Fernthîr's odd way of speaking.
"I wouldn't have told Alquawen if I didn't trust her, Fern! Come down here and quit being ridiculous! I have food too!" Dînaerlinn huffed crossly as she glared in the direction of the voice.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, a strange, gangly sort of creature clad in animal furs climbed down from the treetops.
Fernthîr turned to face them.
He was tall, and broad across the shoulders with a barrel-like chest. His arms were disproportionately long, and covered with bulging muscles, same as his thick legs, which gave him a stocky appearance. A pair of blunt yellowed fangs stuck out from his bottom lip, protruding from his lower jaw. His skin had an odd, greenish tinge to it. A scar raced horizontally across his face. His hair was oily, matted, thick, and in his face. A pair of yellow eyes peeked out from beneath his shaggy bangs, taking her in, skeptical and curious.
Shyly, he walked towards Dînaerlinn, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
"What did Linn bring for lunch?" he mumbled, still keeping a cautious eye on Alquawen, carefully lifting up the corner of the dish towel Dînaerlinn had covering the basket.
"Enough for everyone." she replied with a smile.
Soon they were all sitting on the ground, on top of a blanket, with the food divided between them.
Alquawen smiled as she watched Fernthîr play with Brennil, more than obliged to amuse her.
"How old is he? He looks older than I thought."
"About eighteen. Right sweet boy though. He's quite shy for someone with his looks. I think it's the orkish side that makes him look older, though. He's definitely big for his age by elvish standards."
Fernthîr looked at Alquawen shyly, taking her in.
She was the only other elleth he'd met besides Linn, and she was practically her polar opposite.
However, his gut and sensitive nose told him she could trust her.
She smelled kind.
And, funny enough, she had the same motherly sort of scent that Linn had.
His attention was suddenly drawn to her hair.
He'd never seen silver hair before. Her's looked soft, silky, and smooth. It practically glowed as well, partially from the sunlight, and partially from her light as well. It shimmered at him, seemingly inviting him. He wondered what it felt like.
"Only one way for Fern to find out!" He mumbled to himself.
He carefully moved closer, her soft light dancing in his eyes.
He reached out, hesitated, mustered his courage, and carefully ran his fingers through the ends of her hair.
"Eh? What?" Alquawen jumped and the unexpected touch, looking over her shoulder in surprise.
"F-Fern's sorry for scaring Al! Didn't mean to!" Fernthîr said quickly, moving away.
"No! No, it's alright!" She said, "I wasn't scared, just surprised!"
"Al's hair is pretty." Fernthîr murmured. "Soft, too." He added as he carefully touched her hair again.
She blushed.
In many ways, Fernthîr was a lot like Mornar. Frightening, yet innocent all at once.
She hoped that Dînaerlinn's hopes for Fernthîr's future would come true.
She smiled as she watched him continue to play with Brennil, allowing her to use him as a climbing frame.
"One day, Fernthîr," She thought to herself "I hope you'll have your own little one to love and care for."
"Mornar, how on earth did this happen?!"
"I told you, I just walked into a door frame! It's nothing to worry about!" He replied, unwilling to explain what had happened outside the bath house with Seregmîr, as she placed a cool, damp washcloth over the bruise on his cheek.
Alquawen sighed, rubbing at her temples.
"It's okay, I promise." He murmured, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her arm.
"I want to believe you." She whispered, looking him in the eyes as she subconsciously laced her fingers through his. His eyes were pleading with her, begging her to believe that there was nothing to worry about, yet they betrayed there was more to the story all at once. "But I don't know if I can."
Before he could say anything, there was a knock at the door.
Mornar watched her leave to go answer, hurt in his gaze.
"Your past is a mystery to all but yourself. As painful as it may be to go back, it's honestly one of the best ways you can let her know that you care for her because, in a way, you're reassuring her that you have nothing to hide, and that she has your trust." Daecrist's words echoed through his head, making him draw in his breath sharply.
He had a long way to go before he could be completely honest.
Even with her.
Ruscdîr stood at the door, nervously tugging at his collar.
Apologizing to Dînaerlinn would require all the courage he had, but in order to figure out exactly how he should do it, he'd need to talk to Alquawen first.
Which would also require all his courage.
"Valar, being around women in general requires courage! They're awfully unpredictable!"
The door opened, and he found himself face to face with Alquawen.
Her eyes sparked angrily as soon as she saw him.
"Oh, shit…"
"What do you want?" She growled, glaring daggers at him all the while.
"Al,…Al, I need your help."
"I can't believe you!" She snapped. "You come up with what has to be the most hurtful prank in all of Eru's creation, drag Arafhind into it, hurt my friend, and then have the gall to ask for my help?!"
"Alquawen, please! I know what I did was wrong, and I'm sorry! I didn't know about everything Dînaerlinn had been through until Dae told me last night! If I'd known, I wouldn't have dared Araf to do that! Please, Al, I need to apologize to her, but I don't know where to find her, or how to apologize for something like this! Can you please help me? You know her better than anyone else I know."
"Except for Asgarsîr." He mentally added. "Though I think he'd throttle me if I tried to talk to him right now."
"I know what I did is inexcusable and unforgivable, but I still have to try and make this right. Saes, Alquawen. You're the only one who can help me with this."
Her eyes softened as she looked at him, pleading with her, practically begging.
"Saes?" He murmured hopefully, praying she'd help.
Alquawen sighed, looking around, making sure no one was watching.
Without warning, she grabbed him by the shirt collar, pulling him closer.
"She is going to the market sometime today. I'm not sure when, or if she's already been, but I think it's your best chance at talking to her. As for apologizing, you're on your own. You committed the crime, you're going to have to find the words to explain yourself." She whispered.
He nodded quietly.
"Hannon-le."
"You're welcome. And you didn't hear anything from me."
"Of course. Thanks again."
"Best of luck."
With that, she closed the door, leaving him by himself.
Ruscdîr walked down to the village square, anxiously fiddling with his mother's river stone necklace around his neck. He didn't often wear it for fear of losing it, but his mother had always believed it was lucky, and he needed all the luck he could get. First with apologizing to Dînaerlinn, and then with going to Menegroth to meet his baby half-sister.
He groaned softly, already dreading the visit even though it was a week away.
"No time for that!" He reminded himself, pushing the worry to the back of his mind. "Look for Dînaerlinn!"
"Hello, uncle!" a small voice cried as someone crashed into his leg. He looked down, smiling when he saw Callon.
"Hello, Cal! Gîl, Alagos,..." he knelt down as he acknowledged the elflings who seemed to materialize behind Callon, pausing as he got to the other young girl, realizing that he didn't recognize her. "And who's this? Are you new here, tithen-pen?"
"Oh, no, I just don't go to the village much! I'm Brennil Dînaerlinniel!" She replied, extending her hand.
"Pleased to meet you!" He chuckled, his blistered hand engulfing hers.
"If Brennil is here, then surely Dînaerlinn is as well! This necklace must be lucky after all!"
"Can you play with us, uncle?" Callon asked eagerly.
Ruscdîr smiled sadly.
"Afraid I can't. I have something I need to do. Next time."
He walked around, his heart practically pounding out of his chest.
He had to find her.
He looked around, training his gaze lower. He wouldn't see her at his height. She was terribly small compared to him.
"Yes, that's all. Good day to you as well!"
That was her voice!
He wheeled around.
There.
There she was, placing a small bag of walnuts in her basket, which was already filled with some herbs and a small packet of meat.
"Well… it's now or never, I suppose." He thought as he steeled himself before approaching her.
"Mae-govannen, Captain." He greeted quietly, using her rank out of respect.
She whirled around, fire in her gaze.
"Lieutenant." She greeted through gritted teeth. "Is there something I can help you with? Creating another spectacle perhaps?"
Ruscdîr couldn't help but flinch at her harsh words.
"No… that's not it at all, Captain. I just wanted to apologize to you for what I instigated last night. I know, I know, a whole lot of good just an apology does for something like this." He added as a look of angry disbelief crossed her face. "What I did was immature and stupid, and I know I deserved that punch rather than Arafhind. But I'm truly sorry for everything that happened, and I'm prepared to make it up to you in whatever way I can. I've already started: I went to headquarters this morning, explained what happened last night, told them that it was my fault, and got them to transfer a week of my vacation time over to you for this week in case you needed time to recover. Don't worry though, you're on paid leave!" He added quickly as her facial expression turned into one of shock.
Dînaerlinn was speechless.
She had an entire week all to herself to be with her daughter?
"I know that what I've done so far could never really fix what I did. Is there anything else I can do for you, Captain?" He asked, rousing her from her thoughts.
She looked up at him, into his admittingly handsome face and golden flecked brown eyes, which were looking at her with a gentle sort of concern that almost looked strange on him, given his reckless, daredevil personality.
"Be my friend instead of my rival?" She asked, not knowing what else to say.
He looked at her in surprise.
She wanted to be friends?
After what he'd done?
She looked up at him hopefully, her duo colored eyes shining like twin stars.
He blushed slightly under her gaze, realizing just how beautiful she really was, now that he allowed himself to actually look at her in that light.
Her strange eyes were hooded by thick eyelashes, her cheeks were rosy, and her small nose was probably the cutest thing he'd seen.
"Absolutely. And there's no need to keep referring to me as 'Lieutenant'." He replied, extending his hand, a smile on his face.
"No need to keep referring to me as 'Captain' either." she said, accepting his hand, which encompassed her own, a rare smile creeping across her normally harsh face.
It quickly vanished.
"What happened to you? You're bleeding."
"What? Where?" he asked, his eyes wide.
"Your neck." she stood on tiptoe, trying to get a better look.
He inwardly groaned, realizing the cut he'd gotten from Asgarsîr the previous night must've reopened.
Again.
"Oh, that? It's nothing."
"You didn't have this cut last night." she pointed out disapprovingly, using the same motherly tone she used with Brennil.
"Observant, aren't you?" he sighed, realizing that he was stuck in a losing battle.
"I can't let her know that Asgarsîr did this. The last thing I want to do is run their friendship."
"Of course I'm observant! I'm a mother! Come back to my place with us, I can patch you up there."
"Stay still, I'm almost done." Dînaerlinn murmured, gently applying pressure to Ruscdîr's cut with a damp washcloth in hopes of stopping the bleeding.
He sighed from where he was, sitting on a bench in her living room in front of a window, with her kneeling on the bench beside him so she could reach.
He'd been at her talan for about two hours. She'd taken the time to care for his injury, insisted that he stay for dinner as it wouldn't take too long to make, he'd helped wash up, played with Brennil, and accidentally reopened his injury in the process, much to her dismay.
"How did this happen, Ruscdîr?"
"I told you: after getting drunk last night, I fell and caught myself on something."
"Was it a knife, by any chance?"
He froze.
"This cut's too clean to be anything else." her gaze softened as she pulled away the cloth, having successfully stopped the bleeding. "What really happened last night?"
"Someone at the bar got upset about something and tried to knife me over it. They ended up passing out before they could do much damage though."
"What were they upset about?"
"Who knows. You know how people get when they're drunk."
He regretted his words as soon as she flinched.
"Aye, I-I know what you mean…" she murmured as she sat down beside him.
"I'm sorry." he said softly, reaching out to place a hand on top of hers.
"I know you are. It's just I've had other… experiences that are harder to forget."
He swallowed hard, watching her slowly break down, her hands covering her face as she tried to hide her tears. He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder, praying he was doing the right thing. He had no idea how to deal with crying women.
"I-I'm sorry, it's just… I was…"
"Dînaerlinn,... I… I know what happened. Daecrist told me about everything after you left last night to get me to understand exactly what I did. I might not be able to really understand what you've been through, but… but I do know what it's like to feel completely alone. You can talk to me if you need to."
She looked up to him, still fighting back tears.
"Why do you feel alone? Not many people try to talk to ellyn about this sort of thing."
Ruscdîr was stunned.
No one had ever offered to listen to his pain.
Yet… she was.
A woman who'd been through pain that only Eru knew was offering to listen.
"Why? You've been through more than I ever have… why are you even taking the time to listen to me?"
"Since when has it ever been acceptable to force someone to hide their trauma because 'they should be able to take it'?" She whispered, bringing tears to his eyes.
"My… My mother was killed by orcs when I was about ten, and my father raised me by himself after that. He… he was always very distant after losing her. He hardly recognized I was even there. He forgot about my Begetting day every year, and we never celebrated yuletide, or the harvest festival. He didn't show up for the ceremony when I officially joined the military either. Then… a little over a century ago, he met this woman, fell head over heels for her, and asked her to marry him soon after. It was all very strange. At least to me. Next thing I know, she's trying to replace my mother, starts a feud, and rips my family apart."
She placed a hand on his arm.
He tried to look at her through the tears blinding him.
"If you don't mind me saying so, it sounds more like you raised yourself than anything else."
He had no response. As much as he hated to admit it, it was the truth.
"Aye. I suppose you could say I did. I don't go back home much because of everything, but I have to in a week because I got a letter from my father last night saying that they want me home because I… I have a new half-sister."
"She might be nothing like your stepmother. If there's one thing I learned from having Brennil, it's that there's no such thing as a child born out of evil, regardless of how they were conceived."
"Thank you, Dînaerlinn. I can't tell you how much talking with you has helped me." He said honestly, trying to smile.
"You're welcome. And friends call me Linn." She replied, returning his smile easily.
"In that case, please just call me Rusc."
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, simply content to just be in the moment. It was strange to think that they'd despised each other only yesterday.
Ruscdîr blinked, suddenly feeling a weight on his shoulder. He looked over, grinning a little, to see that Dînaerlinn had fallen asleep, her head against his shoulder.
He couldn't help but be captivated by her, watching the steady rise and fall of her body while listening to the crickets outside.
"Nana? Oh."
He looked over, surprised, to see Brennil standing in the doorway in her nightgown, cradling a squirrel to her chest.
"Brennil, what's the matter?" He asked as she toddled into the room, carefully climbing up beside him.
"I was just worried about Nana."
"How come?"
"She's sad. She cries sometimes, when she thinks I'm not looking." She stated simply, stunning him into silence. "Do you know why she's so sad?" She asked, reaching out to hold her mother's hand
"There… There are just certain hurts that take longer to heal." He tried to explain, brushing her brown hair away from her face. She nodded, as though the answer were sufficient.
"I think she's sad that I don't have an Ada. I've wished for one for a long time, but nothing's happened." Her eyes suddenly brightened hopefully. "Could… Could you be my Ada? Saes?"
He stiffened, taken aback by the request.
"Oh, penneth… I wish I could say yes…" His heart broke a little at the crestfallen look on her face. It reminded him far too much of another elfling, from years long past, who'd wanted nothing more than his family back. "The role of an Adar is a very special one, and the name Ada isn't thrown around lightly."
"Could… could you be my uncle too, then? Like you are for Cal?"
"I'd be honored. Go to sleep now, Brennil."
"Goodnight, uncle." She murmured sleepily, before dozing off against him.
"Goodnight." He replied, finding himself sandwiched between Dînaerlinn and Brennil.
He sighed softly, unwilling to move for fear of waking them, his anxiety about going home all but gone.
It didn't matter what happened in Menegroth now.
As long as he had Dînaerlinn to go back to.
Alright, tried to get that one shorter, but I'm not too sure how that worked because I haven't been paying attention to page count. I should probably start doing that.
And yes: I know it's technically Monday here on the east coast, but on the west coast, it's still Sunday, so I guess I've stuck to my schedule. Kind of.
Sorry for the delay from last month, I start school this week, and I had a ton of AP summer work that I needed to do! Good luck to everyone starting school, and to anyone who has already started, I hope you are surviving!
Elvish translation below! :)
La-nyë i úvanima - I'm not that ugly (Quenya)