Haven

The Mouths of Sirion, First Age 506

Thranduil's breath was hot on Aerneth's neck and his light kisses sent shivers down her spine as he undressed her inch by inch. He went frustratingly slowly, as if he had waited so long for this he wanted to make the moment last, but the quick pulse in his temple hinted how much it cost him to uphold his self-control. Her body was on fire too; she needed him now, yet she resisted the urge to hurry him on, allowing him to take control in bed just as she had always done.

It amazed her how well he still knew her; finding all her sweet spots, unravelling her until she could hardly even think coherently. She squirmed beneath him while he explored her body with fingers and tongue as thoroughly as if it were their first night together.

Nearly undone with want she pulled him down, sighing in relief when he finally sank into her. At last he released his tight grip on himself and allowed raw passion to take over, nearly overwhelming her with his intensity and pace.

"Aerneth," he mumbled as he came. "Aerneth…"

Seeing his flushed cheeks and glazed expression while hearing him say her name in that mesmerising voice brought her to one of the most intense releases she had ever experienced.

It took a while to catch her breath afterwards and she lay on her back, chest heaving as her heartbeat gradually calmed. Now that her desire had been sated she felt self-reproach come creeping. How could she have been so weak and come here despite everything? She was supposed to keep her distance from Thranduil, not encourage him.

She gave him a guilty glance and found his eyes already on her. There was something almost shy in his gaze; it was unguarded in a way she had not seen in decades. It reminded her of the young ellon he had been in his youth, before their marriage, before all their fights and troubles. Suddenly her heart swelled. Despite everything she still loved him. Perhaps Galadriel was wrong about the need for a clean break; maybe this time their marriage could actually work?

Firmly quenching the remorse she inched closer, trailing her fingers down his smooth, slightly damp chest, then letting her lips follow. His scent was still the same, the salty taste of his skin was as well.

He hummed pleasedly and leaned back.

Coming lower she noticed a half-healed wound on his thigh; a pink, raised scar several inches long. She touched it lightly. "What happened?"

He stiffened. "The battle with Fëanor's sons happened," he said after a moment's hesitation. "My opponent was strong. I had never fought an elf before, and on top of that he was better armed."

For the first time, the full impact of what had happened in Doriath struck Aerneth. There had been a second kinslaying where elves fought elves, and her husband had been in the middle of it. Filled with sympathy she cupped his cheek. "You must have been frightened."

His face immediately turned emotionless; the mask was back. "He nearly killed me. Aye, of course I was frightened."

Aerneth's lip began to tremble. He had looked so open and vulnerable before, but of course she had to open her big mouth and ruin everything. Thranduil was an ellon and a warrior; he did not want to be pitied. She ought to know that by now.

But then the dejection left her, anger taking its place. Why should she feel guilty over showing compassion? It was ridiculous to tiptoe around someone not to hurt their fragile ego, but Galadriel had been right; she always put the blame on herself. Thranduil's reaction just now was not her fault, it was his fault for not allowing her close. For not trusting her enough to share his pain and fears. "Why did you even put yourself in such a dangerous situation?" she snapped. "I told you to leave Doriath, but of course Ada's greed and stupid aspirations must come first, even when staying with him is practically suicide."

His eyes grew flinty. "Don't talk about him that way."

"I talk however I want. You lost your right to control me a long time ago."

"I have never controlled you!"

"Well you certainly tried to, Oropherion." She all but growled the name.

"Keep your voice down." He glanced at the wall. "And aye, I am Oropher's son and will do my duty to him. That is who I am, as you well know, and yet it was you who came here tonight. Having second thoughts already?"

His badly suppressed anger suddenly made her aroused. Deliberately driving him on, she retorted: "Not at all. I got what I came for; your body. If I could have it without the personality that goes with it that would be even better."

Grasping her arms, he pinned her on the bed. "Then I had better shut up and give you value for your time," he whispered coolly. "Tell me what you want."

"Take me," she breathed, heart racing with anticipation. "Hard."

He flipped her onto her stomach and obeyed without ado. "That hard enough?" His breath tickled her ear.

"Nay," she grunted into the blanket. She wanted it to hurt.

He picked up his pace, but despite her request and his resentment it was obvious he made sure it was pleasurable for her. He was not gentle, but not brutal either, and when he slipped his hand down her front it did not take long until she reached new heights of pleasure.

Rolling out from under him, tears pricked the corners of her eyes. The act had been purely physical, detached and impersonal. She was horribly reminded of the sounds from Oropher and his wife through the wall back in Doriath; their fights that always ended with eager lovemaking.

Was she becoming like Thranduil's mother?

"You should probably go," he muttered.

Mortified, she dressed and climbed back out of his window without a word.

oOo

Aerneth did not feel like leaving her house the next day, but as leader of the colony she was needed out there. The refugees had only brought very little with them from Doriath and there were many new mouths to feed. To help them survive the winter she must bake more lembas and arrange fishing and hunting expeditions, and even then it would be hard. It was not optimal to gather food this time of year when they had to fish through holes in the ice and when the animals they hunted were lean from lack of food.

There was also housing to consider. As of now, the newcomers had settled in with their friends and relatives among the other Iathrim, but that was much too crowded to work for long. Suitable locations for new homes must be found, which was difficult because of the muddy ground in these parts.

She decided to go talk to Amdír, the leader of the Iathrim, and see if he had any ideas.

On the way she passed Galadriel's house and guiltily hurried her steps. Aerneth had disregarded her friend's counsel and she would probably figure that out if they met. It was not easy to hide things from her sharp eyes.

Amdír was not alone when Aerneth arrived. He was talking with Oropher, of all people, and she recalled the two of them had been friends back in Doriath. How typical. One self-important, stubborn Iathrim leader was tiring enough to handle; she did not need another one.

"Ah, young Aerneth." Oropher smiled with his mouth but his eyes remained hard and cold.

"Oropher." She dipped her head less than an inch.

"We were discussing housing," said Amdír, seemingly unaware of their frosty greeting. "I plan to give Oropher's people some land west of my enclave."

Aerneth's cheeks heated with annoyance. The land here was not Amdír's to give away, it was her father's, nor were the refugees Oropher's people! But she had to let it pass; it was not worth the energy to argue. "I see. That is a very rough area, mostly rocks. Where would they grow food or hunt?"

"My son has agreed to give them some of the pigs he breeds, but it is true there is not much else to eat up there. Maybe your people could share?"

She sighed. It would be a poor winter, for sure. "I shall see to it."

She was about to leave when Medlin, one of the border guards, entered. "We have found tracks in the snow not far from the palisade. Horse hooves, coming from the north and leaving the same way."

Oropher muttered what sounded like a curse. "Then we were followed from Doriath. I wondered why Fëanor's sons released the captives so easily; it must have been a ruse to find out where we escaped to."

"Why would they want to know that?" asked Medlin.

"I don't know," said Oropher quickly.

"It seems they are still looking for the Silmaril," said Amdír. "But it was lost, wasn't it?"

Oropher nodded. "Dior got rid of it before his death."

"Well, that's a relief," said Aerneth. "We have enough troubles as it is without having to fear a third kinslaying on top of everything."

Medlin chuckled. "Aye, I don't think we have anything else the Noldor want – unless they like mud and salted fish."

oOo

The Mouths of Sirion, First Age 511

Aerneth silently slipped out of Thranduil's window, tired and physically satisfied, but carrying the usual empty feeling in her chest that came with every such visit. Nowadays they knew that their old quarrels and grievances always lured close under the surface, only needing a minor spark to be ignited and erupt, so they took care not to talk to each other even casually during their meetings, reducing their relationship to a purely physical one. As if they were secret lovers rather than husband and wife.

But at least that way, they still had a relationship.

On her tiptoes, she hurried across the pine needles on the rocky ground, careful not to make a sound and wake people up. Thranduil lived with his father and the young princess Elwing, whom he had been looking after since the flight from Doriath, and their cabin was small with many neighbours – but at least he had his own room or they would be limited to Aerneth's house, which was built on a platform and a lot harder to sneak into inconspicuously.

In the five years that had passed since Thranduil and his people came, the Mouths of Sirion settlement had grown into three separate towns, with the Falathrim closest to the river and the Iathrim and Laegrim from Doriath further west, ruled by Amdír and Oropher respectively. Aerneth did not like how divided they were, but had to admit it was a lot easier to only mind her own people's affairs. And the less she had to see of Oropher, the better.

When she arrived at the gate separating the enclaves, she heard a commotion outside. Voices.

Breath hitching, she silently sneaked closer. It was a large group, several hundred elves at least, and going by their dark hair and style in clothing they must be Noldor. Fëanor's sons? But most of them did not look like warriors, and there were elflings among them. Who could they be?

Then she spotted Amroth and a few other guards calmly talking to the newcomers and relaxed. Things must be under control.

Amroth caught sight of her and waved. "Oh, good! You're awake." His eyes were shining excitedly. "We need to find lots of spare rooms. These are Turgon's people, from the hidden city! From Gondolin."

A chill crept through her body. "It has fallen," she stated, knowing without doubt that Ulmo's third prediction of Beleriand's ruin had finally come to pass.

He nodded. "About a year ago, they say. They have been on the run since it happened."

Squinting through the darkness, she scanned the many faces, suddenly nervous over who she might see. Glorfindel, the ellon she had kissed, had been from Gondolin. But as far as she could tell he was not there.

With difficulty she pulled herself together and bowed to them. "I am Aerneth Círdaniel. Welcome to the Mouths of Sirion."

A vaguely familiar man in a worn silver armour went forward. "I remember you. We met near Dor-lómin many years ago. I am Tuor, son of Huor, and one of the new leaders after the king's death."

"What happened to the king?"

Before he could reply, an elfling in the crowd began to cry.

"Never mind, the hour is late and you must be tired; I will try to find housing for you in the Falathrim enclave. You can tell me more on the way there."

During the walk, Aerneth and Amroth fell in step with Tuor and his family. His wife introduced herself as Idril, daughter of the late King Turgon.

Aerneth nearly jumped in surprise at that. "But you are an elf, and Tuor–"

Idril smiled tiredly. "I know."

"Love knows no boundaries," said Tuor. "Though, in our case, perhaps I should have stepped back. Allowed him to have you. If I had, then all of this–"

"Nay!" his wife interrupted. "It wouldn't have changed anything. Maeglin's heart was already black, long before he came to us."

"Who is Maeglin?" asked Amroth.

"A traitor," spat Idril.

"He was Idril's cousin," Tuor elaborated. "He wanted to marry her but her adar said no."

"And I said no."

"That too. Which he couldn't forgive. He hated me, and our son, and King Turgon too, I dare say. So, it appears he went and told Morgoth how to find Gondolin. Making us all pay."

Together, Idril and Tuor told the rest of the tragic story. After Maeglin's betrayal it did not take long until Morgoth sent a large army of orcs, dragons and balrogs. They surrounded the city, and though both the king and his people fought valiantly it was a lost cause. The survivors managed to flee through secret tunnels, losing many on the way, and now these few hundred elves were all that remained of Turgon's people.

"I once met two ellyn from Gondolin," Aerneth murmured. "Ecthelion and… uh, Glorfindel."

"Both dead, I am afraid," said Tuor ruefully. "They were true heroes. After taking down many foes Echtelion managed to mortally wound the balrog leader, but sadly was pulled down with him into the king's fountain. He drowned there."

"And Glorfindel saved us from another balrog during our escape," said Idril. "He too died in the fight – the monster caught him with the tip of his whip and he fell down a deep gorge."

Full of mixed emotions, Aerneth saw Glorfindel's handsome face in her mind. She could still feel part of the attraction that had led her to kiss him against better judgement. It was strange to know he was gone, and yet a huge relief, too; now Thranduil and Glorfindel would never meet, sparing her from causing a possible fight between them.

Her eyes burned. Though it felt horribly wrong and selfish, she was actually grateful an ellon was dead. What did that say of her?

oOo

A few weeks later, Aerneth's father and a group of Noldor arrived on swan ships from the settlement on the Isle of Balar, announcing a council to decide successors for King Turgon of Gondolin and King Dior of Doriath.

Representatives of all the peoples in the colony were summoned: Noldor from Nargothrond and Gondolin; Sindar from Doriath; Laegrim from Ossiriand; Lord Círdan's Falathrim.

"With the passing of Turgon, the Noldor are left without a High King," Círdan began. "Customarily, the title goes to the head of the House of Finwë. To my knowledge, that must presently be the eldest surviving son of Fëanor."

"One of Fëanor's sons?" Oropher exclaimed incredulously. "They should be imprisoned for their ill deeds, not rewarded with the Noldor crown."

"I agree." One of the Nargothrond exiles stood. "For those who don't know me, I am Celebrimbor, son of Curufin, son of Fëanor. I was always opposed to my adar's and his brothers' obsession with the Silmarils. I parted ways with them many years ago, and since the fall of Nargothrond I have lived on the Isle of Balar. If Adar or any of my uncles are still alive, I say they have forfeited their right to the throne and should be dispossessed of their heritage."

The other Noldor loudly voiced their agreement.

"Hear, hear!"

"Well said!"

Círdan smiled. "I figured you would see it that way, which means we must seek the heir in the next generation. Then there are three candidates present here; all of them the fourth generation of Finwë's House. The eldest is you, Lord Celebrimbor. Then we have Gil-galad, son of King Orodreth of Nargothrond, and lastly Eärendil Half-elven, the late King Turgon's grandson."

"I am a craftsman and a jewelsmith, not a leader," said Celebrimbor. "I prefer my art to politics. And as for Eärendil…" He indicated a boy next to Tuor and Idril. "I am told he is mortal. Wouldn't it be better with an elf?"

"Indeed," said Idril, pulling her son closer. "Besides, Eärendil is only eight."

Celebrimbor turned to a tall, dark-haired ellon. "Gil-galad, you have always reminded me of Finrod, your adar's uncle; wise and diplomatic. I think you would make a good king."

"That is true," an elleth agreed. "He has been a just leader during our exile."

Gil-galad bowed. "You are both too kind." He looked around the room. "Is this the opinion of all Noldor here?"

"Aye!" came the joint reply.

"Then I will take up the crown." He suddenly smiled wistfully. "Though, we don't actually have one, do we?"

Idril shook her head. "It was lost in Gondolin with everything else."

"I will fashion a crown for you," Celebrimbor promised. "Bigger, more beautiful than the old one, made to last for generations." His eyes glittered.

"That is settled then," Círdan cut in. "Gil-galad will be High King of the Noldor, and we shall hold the coronation as soon as Lord Celebrimbor finishes his work with the crown. Will your people remain on the Isle or move landwards?"

Gil-galad thought about it briefly before replying: "I think I shall stay. We put in a lot of work to build our city there, and the fortress is easy to defend. There is room for the people from Gondolin too, though we will become a bit crowded."

"Good. Then let us continue. We also need a successor to the Doriath throne, and in this case we unfortunately have no surviving sons or other relatives, which makes it more complicated. But one option is to make Dior's daughter Elwing a Ruling Queen."

A bit surprised at the suggestion, Aerneth turned to look at the girl where she stood next to Thranduil. Her small face was serious but otherwise emotionless, as if she had not heard her name mentioned. It struck Aerneth she had never seen the child smile.

Would she manage to step into her father's shoes and be a ruler when so young? She was the same age as Eärendil.

"That option is not acceptable," said Oropher. "Elwing is part human, and just as Lord Celebrimbor here said regarding the Noldor succession, the new Sindarin ruler ought to be an elf."

"But there are no elven heirs in this case."

"Well, that is true, but… We must also consider her gender. I know you have delegated leadership to your daughter, Lord Círdan, but for us more traditional Sindar it is unheard of to select a female ruler."

Aerneth winced. She was well aware of Oropher's opinion of ellith and their place in society; he would not lightly accept being supplanted by one.

"Let us be realistic," Oropher continued. "During most of the last king's reign, as well as that of his predecessor, Doriath was in essence run by trusted advisors. It made our realm prosper. Amdír here did a formidable work, to name one."

"You flatter me, but you are too humble," said Amdír. "Your own leadership has been impeccable." He turned to Círdan. "All in all, my friend here is correct. Crowning a half-human girl is neither customary, nor beneficial for our people, and I think Oropher or myself would be a better choice."

Galadriel stepped forward and judging by her heated countenance she was quite as annoyed as Aerneth felt. "Crowning a mere commoner is not customary either."

"Commoner?" growled Oropher. "I–"

"Have you forgotten there actually is a male heir present?" she interrupted. "Being the grand-nephew of King Thingol, Lord Celeborn ought to be chosen."

Her husband put a hand on her arm as if to calm her. "I have never aspired to the throne and am not doing so now either."

"Then you would prefer Oropher?" Galadriel's colour heightened even further.

Now others began voicing their opinion, some rooting for Elwing, some for Oropher or Amdír, a few for Celeborn despite his reluctance. The debate went back and forth and the volume grew cacophonous.

It could have gone on for a long time, had not the new king-to-be Gil-galad intervened. Standing tall among them, he called out: "I have a suggestion to make, if you would hear me!" When the room calmed, he continued. "I know I have no right to interfere with the Sindarin succession, but I may have a solution to this dilemma. Though I have no doubt Masters Amdír and Oropher would make good rulers were they to be chosen, I think legitimacy matters in the long run. Crowning an elf of no royal birth could produce unrest and dissent among the people."

"And crowning a little girl would not?" Oropher sneered.

"With Elwing, King Thingol's line will be kept intact, and it follows protocol," Gil-galad continued, pretending not to have heard. "In addition, in this case I think her mortality will be beneficial, for do they not say mortals both grow fast and reproduce fast – and with a lot more ease than we do? She will likely enter adulthood in less than a decade, and can then marry and produce many heirs of whom some are bound to be male." He finally turned to Oropher. "You say you were the advisor of the previous kings. Well, then you and Master Amdír can advise this girl too, I am sure, guiding and assisting her until she comes of age, and make sure she chooses wisely when it is time to select a husband."

The assembly nodded and hummed. He had many good points.

"But her heirs would be mortal too." Oropher's voice was strained; it was obvious he fought to keep his temper.

"With an elvish spouse I think it is possible the children will be elves, even if their naneth is half-elven. I cannot say for sure, of course, but I don't find it unlikely."

A murmur rose as people discussed this.

Aerneth glanced at Elwing again, feeling very sorry for the girl. What kind of life would she get if she was made queen? To be Amdír's and Oropher's pawn until she was old enough to marry, and then all her purpose in life would be to produce babies of the right gender to succeed her. It sounded absolutely horrible.

Círdan waited until the noise died down until he stepped forward again. "If you have thought this through, let us decide once and for all. Who is for appointing Elwing queen, with Amdír and Oropher as her advisors?"

The acclamation in favour was almost unanimous.

"Then we have a consensus. Elwing shall be the Ruling Queen of the Iathrim, Falathrim and Laegrim and rule the people on the mainland."

There was a loud cheer at his announcement, but Oropher looked ready to explode.

"In the past, the settlement at the Mouths of Sirion has been divided into three enclaves with three rulers," Círdan continued. "But now we must come together as one people and be a realm fit for a queen. This area near the docks is the oldest and less waterlogged so I suggest we select a residence for her here." He glanced at his daughter. "The former leader has a robust house that will do nicely."

Aerneth tried not to frown; she happened to like her home! Though perhaps it was a small price to pay. She was glad to get rid of the borders and strife between the enclaves and start working together for a common good.

"Lastly, the realm needs a name. Any ideas?"

After a brief discussion they settled on one that signalled safety: Haven. The full name would be 'the Havens of Sirion'.

With that, the council was over, and most seemed pleased with the outcome and eager for the imminent coronation feasts. But not everyone. Eyes shooting daggers and with flaming cheeks, Oropher had withdrawn to a corner and was talking with Amdír in a subdued voice, and a small group of other Iathrim had gathered around them.

Aerneth sidled closer and caught a few words: "…unheard of… just a girl… terrible choice… something must be done…" His and the others' ire did not bode well, and suddenly she became afraid. Would Oropher try taking the crown by force? If he managed to stir up a rebellion the newfound unity would end before it had even begun.

At least Thranduil seemed to stay out of it; she saw him with Elwing on the other side of the council chamber. Maybe he could dissuade his father from creating a revolt? She must try to talk to him, but even if he agreed to hear her out – which she was not too sure of – finding privacy around here was hard.

Then she had an idea. Walking up to them, she bowed politely to the girl. "Congratulations, my queen."

Elwing looked at her but did not reply.

"She doesn't speak much, does she?" she asked Thranduil.

"Nay."

"I understand she has lived with you since you came here. Is the arrangement working satisfactorily?"

Thranduil raised an eyebrow in surprise; being a frequent nightly visitor, Aerneth obviously already knew who else lived in his house. "I have no complaints."

"Then I assume you will move with her to her new abode. Would you like to inspect it beforehand, and see if it is suitable?" She had asked it lightly, but holding his gaze meaningfully she mouthed: Please.

"Why not?"

Relieved, Aerneth lost no time to take him there. Her house was nearby, a whitewashed building on poles to keep it off the muddy street.

He followed her up the stairs and looked inside appreciatively. "It is certainly a lot more spacious than where we live now, but I doubt you brought me here for a house-viewing. What is this really about?"

Aerneth pondered a reply that would not lead to instant fighting. It was years since she and her husband had actually talked, and having a conversation about Oropher was the worst imaginable way to start – but she could not afford to anger Thranduil this time. She had to get him on her side.

"I think your adar did not like the decision today," she began, choosing her words carefully. "I fear he will try to stop Elwing's coronation."

"Well, he wasn't the only one; your hot-headed friend didn't seem happy about it either."

"Hot-headed? You mean Galadriel? She–" Aerneth broke off and took a breath. She had to calm down and try not to argue. "It is not wrong to protect one's husband from being slighted, but even so, I am sure Galadriel has accepted that he is not interested in rulership."

"If you say so."

"But I worry your adar will be harder to pacify." She related what she had heard back in the hall.

"It wouldn't surprise me if he tried something," Thranduil admitted.

"You are the only one who can handle him and his temper. Isn't there something you could do?"

"I am not the only one." His voice became several degrees cooler. "If he was as bad as you think, nobody would follow him. He is a good leader."

Aerneth wanted to argue against that but forced herself to drop it and avoid a quarrel. "He respects your opinion most," she said instead. "And whether he is a good leader is irrelevant; the council chose Elwing."

"True," he acceded. "And he will still be her advisor. That was a good compromise."

She thought about the poor girl being forced to follow Oropher's orders for years. Already she must live under his roof; maybe that was why she was so quiet? Aerneth had learned the hard way what living with him was like. Yet, the alternatives to this arrangement were a lot worse. "A decent compromise, yes. So… What can you do to make it work?"

Looking thoughtful, Thranduil sat in a chair and she picked the one next to it. "Talk it over, I guess," he said. "Try to calm him and explain why this is the best option for now."

"Do you think he will listen?"

"I hope so." He sighed. "The problem is, Adar won't rest until he has a crown on his head." Thranduil explained that over the years his father had become more and more obsessed with the ambition to create something like Doriath of old. A wealthy, well functioning realm, safe and protected like Menegroth's stone halls, ruled by a powerful king. "He regrets what Thingol's and Dior's bad decisions led to and believes he could have done better. Avoided exposure; kept the Silmaril hidden. And I agree, in a way. Like I said before, he is a good leader."

She disagreed wholeheartedly and was on the verge of speaking her mind – that Oropher was a coward and a narcissist – but managed to hold back once again. "We will never be safe as long as Morgoth lives," she said. "We have to fight him or he will find us eventually, no matter how well protected our realm is. You must have heard the horror tales from Gondolin too?"

"I did. And you are right, but… What can elves do against dragons and balrogs? Even…" He swallowed. "Even though Túrin killed one it contributed to nothing. The enemy has so many."

She bit her lip. "I know."

A thoughtful silence settled over the room.

Would Beleriand be destroyed completely by Morgoth? Ossë had seen it covered by the sea. On the other hand, Ulmo had said something more hopeful. Aerneth recalled his booming voice, strong as the ocean itself: From this shore a new star shall arise and save the children of Ilúvatar. Did that mean the Havens of Sirion was a safe place?

If so, it was right to build a realm here. To invest in a real city instead of this scanty colony.

Thinking of the council again, she wondered whether Thranduil would really be able to soothe Oropher. If anyone could do it, it was he, she figured, he could be diplomatic when he wanted to. At least to anyone other than herself. Then it struck her that they had just managed a full conversation without fighting. They were making progress, albeit slowly. Baby steps.

"I have long thought that the best way for my adar to get what he wants is for us to move," Thranduil said, breaking the silence. "To travel east into Ossiriand and see if the Laegrim will let him rule them, and if not, perhaps cross the mountains and find new lands there. Whatever lies beyond."

Move away? But he had only been here a few years… She wanted him to stay longer. "I suppose that might work," she replied, keeping her voice neutral. "The Laegrim seem complacent."

Thranduil smiled faintly. "They are good people."

"When… might this happen, then?"

He looked at his hands. "Nothing is decided. I haven't even mentioned the idea to Adar, actually. What with… everything we have here." His eyes returned to hers.

She understood what he implied. "I see."

Silence resumed, but no longer a thoughtful one. The room felt unusually small and the air a bit warmer. If Aerneth moved her chair an inch their knees would touch.

"We didn't finish the house-viewing," she said.

He glanced at one of the doors. "What are the bedrooms like?"

"They have a nice view of the bay." She rose. "Want me to show you?"

He stood, just a little too close. "Please do. I want to see…" He lowered his voice into a whisper. "…everything."

A/N:

I will stop apologizing for slow updates lol, I hope you guys know I will keep writing and finish this story even if it takes another year. With the Rings of Power show airing (that I really enjoy so far!) I'm suddenly able to put a face to some of the elves in my story, which makes it even more fun to write about them. :)

Note: I accidentally mixed up Elwing's and the twins' ages in previous chapters, making her the eldest child. I've gone back and changed it now – not that it matters much to the story. :) The twins were around six when the kinslaying happened and Elwing was three years old.

On another age-related note, I actually don't know who's the eldest of Celebrimbor and Gil-galad, and all the Silmarillion has to say about the Noldor succession is that Gil-galad became High King (with no explanation why). But I liked the idea that Celebrimbor had a chance to be king and forsook it to continue his smithing. As you may know, he will be important later in the history of Middle-earth, much because of his craft and love of… shiny things. ;)

Oh, and in the Silmarillion Gil-galad is Fingon's son but in Tolkien's later notes he was Orodreth's son, and Orodreth was Galadriel's nephew instead of her brother. I chose the latter here to keep consistent with the family trees in Tolkien Gateway and similar sites. (Writing a Silmarillion based story is certainly complicated with all the contradicting facts!)

Shoutout to Faerlas and Guest, thank you dears for supporting the story! I'm so happy to know people are still reading this tale, though it grew so much longer than I had expected. :D