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Alone
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At last she was alone. She loved being alone, except when she had a mood to join her cousins in their hunting. Like her cousin Galadriel she was often described as more man at heart compared to their other kinswomen. Though they both partook in sports and athletics generally preferred by their male counterparts, for herself she could often be found exercising her archery in the hunt for the beasts of the deep forests. She was the match of any of the elf men with the bow, and so her cousins were easy to let her join them in their hunts. But as often than not she would ride off on her own, dashing through glades and steering her way into the dense groves. And that was the thought from the fiery speeches of her uncle and cousins that stirred her to leave - of seemingly endless expanses of open plains and shady forests to explore over in Middle-earth. It was much larger than her homeland by far, with countless places to run a horse over the wild hills and find quietude in the plentiful woodlands and enjoy the beauty of the birds and the beasts and the rushing rivers and the unnumbered trees.
Galadriel was not the only maiden to stand among her kinsmen and hearken to the words of Fëanor and his sons that fateful day back on the beaches of Eldamar Bay. She was there, too, standing nearby with her own brothers. And like them she had been drawn into the fighting when she saw her kin and friends under attack. She had remorse for that misunderstanding, but she also had ear for their grievances of her friends in the house of Feänor, and sometimes in the depths of her mind over the years leading up to that moment she had entertained the rumors that swirled among their people, over whether the gods were as honorable in their intentions as their forebears had been led to believe.
Still they all trudged along behind the people of Fëanor regardless, both too proud to turn back and face the judgment of the Valar and too shamed by their mistakes. She and her father and brothers were now a people in between, burdened with their own guilt got by their misunderstanding in their actions at the havens. In their hearts a part of them indeed desired to plead forgiveness for their mistake, but by the stirring words they heard they grew enamored of the promise of open wilds and hidden refuges of Middle-earth, and they all pushed away any desire to turn back. Some of her cousins among Fëanor's sons were not as zealously scornful and suspicious and over-proud as their father, and far up the north coasts she waited thinking they would not disregard her and her people, and the stolen ships would make the return journey to ferry them over. But far off in the distance they spied the bright glow of the great flames, and knew they were betrayed. Many then despaired, but Galadriel said, "If we would go on and not turn back to suffer shaming and scorn and humiliation for the guilt that we lack, then we must face the perils of the Grinding Ice, and come to Middle-earth by foot. I at least will go on."
And so equally stirred by these words they continued on. The most eloquent of minstrels could not capture in words the courage and hardiness required to pass through that insufferable place. It was cold, very cold, even for the elves, and the blasting wind pushed right through their garments and to chill their skin through to their flesh and bone, and the biting snow nipped ceaselessly at their hands and their cheeks. It was a long and very slow road, for they brought with them many people and many goods, and they crossed with much injury and loss to the storms and the many crevasses hidden in the snow or to the tumults of the sea rolling into the ravines from nearby. At last a time came to their deep and abiding relief that the remainder of the migrants finally passed onto the far northern beaches of Beleriand, and on down as the wondrous sight of the moon rose up large above them to that spot at the firth where the ships had been set to flame by their kin not long before. Eventually they reached the green plains of the Great Lands greeted by the glorious light of the rising sun, and just to be there was as much a thrill of mystery and daring as she had expected. There in the mountain-fenced lowlands of Hithlum they came upon the people of Fëanor again, who beheld her people in amazement over such a feat, with shame for what had been done. There were many old friends between the two camps, but like many in her house for a long time there was injury and anger in her heart, and like the rest of her people she would not go and visit them.
But now it had been many years, and the lady finally grew to miss the company of her cousins of the house of Fëanor, and the diversions in which they had partook together back home of riding and archery and hunting. Several spans of lives of mortal men had since gone by, and she had grown weary of the confines of the mountain fences of her brother's city. The grand white towers shining in the gleam of the incomparable elven lamps of the city were a sight to see, but she began to long for mysteries of the wilderness of the vast expanse of Middle-earth. It was the reason she had come here, after all. All the glowing lanterns and brilliant metals and dazzling jewels adorning the great gates and grand towers had begun to seem dim, with dense and overwhelming crowds grown ever larger in the streets. The woods nearby into which she could retreat were small and thin, and the places over which to ride were few and well trod. Her brother was loth to let her leave his carefully concealed and guarded city. But with such high and forbidding walls of restraint placed on her in the fair and bright realm of Gondolin, she had begun to wonder what the point of it all was. They may as well have stayed in Valinor if they were bound to live like this for eternity.
Every so often her brother the king would receive news of the wider world from the eagles. Their kin were settled in more vulnerable places, beset ever and anon by enemies at large nearby. The eagles would tell him of the woes afflicting the other kingdoms, but he would not go out to help them, or let any leave his hidden city even during the many long years of Watchful Peace. That was well enough in its own right, she thought to herself, for there were many families here; mothers and children and gentler hearts content in the safety offered here. But for her it became a great weight on her spirit, and finally she began asking leave to go, then begging, and finally declaring her intent to leave whether he would allow it or not.
Sometimes she wished she had followed rather her kinswoman Galadriel, who was rumored to have gone to live for a time in the Forest Kingdom of Doriath. How wonderful the thought seemed to her now, for that shaded place was vast with many marvelous secrets beneath the shades of its tall and dense canopy, and her kinsman of the House of Fëanor lived not far. But she had communed little with the children of Finarfin even in Valinor, and felt they judged her for her friendship with their rivals within the First House of Finwë. Now she wondered if she had put too much weight and fear into the thought, for it seemed that a life there might have been more suited to her indeed.
At last her brother granted her leave to go forth, seeing his only other choice was to hold her captive otherwise which was no option at all. In truth she would have preferred to go on her own, for she was not afraid, especially once the king had restricted her to going west to their brother not east to her friends. But she had some wisdom, and understood the danger enough to request a company of his guards to escort her. After she insisted they turn away from her other brother, she discovered she was not entirely wrong about the other elves, for King Thingol at the least did indeed judge her choice in friends, and obliged her to go the more perilous route close to the feet of the mountains across the valley to the north. And now she was alone, and soon she was lost.