A/N: Here it finally is, the chapter in which Glorfindel and Elarinya actually interact. Hope you all like it, because it was both fun and really hard to write. Don't think I've ever removed and rewritten so much in a chapter before. But I'm finally satisfied, so here it is.
Enjoy!
In the week that followed, Elarinya continued to recover. She started healing with her fäe again and began to get to know the long-term patients that remained, with, as a consequence, she also got to know the guests of her patients
Thalion might have been the worst patient ever in Elarinya's opinion, but thankfully Hanneth was very willing to take the care of that impatient ellon on her shoulders.
El got to know both Glorfindel and Maeglin better, and some of the Fëanorions as well. Maglor and the twins were nice visitors, if a bit rambunctious at times. Caranthir was better behaved, though he only visited his cousin once before disappearing back into his side of the camp.
Maeglin was even quieter. The elf was peculiar, and Elarinya was ashamed to admit he unsettled her. When they spoke he was polite and insightful, but sometimes there was this look in his eyes.
It made her uncomfortable.
But he was of Doriath and thus one of hers. He was her patient and Fingon's nephew, and so she set aside her instincts and kept on treating him like she treated the rest of her patients. With kindness and respect.
She also took care to avoid a few of the guests, like when Maedhros came to visit accompanied by a certain pair of brothers. Celegorm and Curufin were not people she wished to see, though Celegorm visited increasingly often as soon as he learned of the existence of the son of his dearest friend.
Strangely enough, the hunter favored by Oromë looked like he could be her brother. The first time she saw him was shocking. They shared the same luminescent silvery hair, though his was a shade blonder than her own moonlit silver. Even some of their features were alike.
The elf who held her sister against her will was rude, curt and short-tempered. But when he met her eyes that first time, the eyes she shared with Lúthien and Melian, she saw the flash of regret. Celegorm didn't apologize, but he softened in her presence and made sure not to force his company on her as he visited the tent.
El supposed that was all they could ask for.
Thingol came by the tents often now that the battle was won and there was less to do. He spent time with her as she worked or sat by the wounded from Doriath, talking with them and soothing them to the best of his ability.
El didn't remember much of her former life. She couldn't remember her parents' names, or that of her siblings or friends. She couldn't recall her former king, though she thought his (her?) name might have been Demo- something.
But standing at her fathers side, watching him comfort the last of wounded soldiers, she knew this was a king she would serve with pride. With love and honor. Despite his damnable pride and stubbornness, Elu Thingol cared deeply about his people and Elarinya loved watching him at work.
Her father took a special interest in Eöl's son, though he later told her that he found the son much better company than the father. Eöl had been wrong, and all that were sensitive to such things could feel it. A gifted smith, but disturbing. The dark sword the elf had once gifted to Thingol still lay in the deepest vaults of Menegroth, and would likely never be actually used.
Maeglin himself was recovering swiftly, though she worried about the wounds of spirit he carried with him.
Elarinya had heard enough snippets of his life story and more importantly about the elf that had been his father around camp that she was certain his past had left its mark upon the ellon. There was something sad about him, and he often reminded her of a spooked horse.
Especially when King Turgon came around.
Fingon was still furious with his brother, though grateful for his help. But helping didn't take away the fact that he hadn't seen hide nor hair of his brother in over two centuries. She'd been an awkward witness to that fight, and it had left her squarely on Fingon's side.
(She couldn't imagine not seeing Lúthien for such a long time. Especially when knowing they could have such little time left. Her sister was aging as a mortal now, and appeared to be of an age with their parents. It was distressing and yet beautiful. Her sister was so happy.)
His brother had left to build his city, for good reasons yes, but after that there had been no word. No letters, no visits, nothing. Complete radio silence.
Fingon hadn't known his sister had been taken, forcibly married and eventually murdered by her own foul husband as she bravely fled with her young son. He hadn't known about his own nephew, who by now was a fully grown ellon. He hadn't seen his niece, the Lady Idril, grow up.
Talk about strained relationships.
Eventually, after Turgon and Fingon had calmed down, the two came to an agreement. Gondolin would stay hidden, but they would stay in contact this time. There would be diplomats from Gondolin going to Hithlum and in reverse. For a decade they would stay, before returning home where new diplomats would be waiting for their turn.
Maeglin too would be allowed to visit his other uncle.
That brought on another spike of fury when Fingon learned that his nephew had been kept in Gondolin against his will. The pale elf, who'd been watching the fight and negotiations happening with a carefully blank face, looked surprised at the anger on his behalf.
Fingon and Turgon noticed, and both deflated.
"Our sincere apologies, Lómion." Fingon reached out to his nephew. "Here we are squabbling like children when we should have asked you what you want."
Elarinya saw the muscle jump in Turgon's jaw, and knew he was struggling. "I am sorry if my decisions troubled you, nephew."
She hummed softly under her breath, breaking the tension between the three the best way she knew how. The breeze responded to her, carrying the sweet scent of wildflowers and sunlight.
"Thank you, uncles." He finally said, eyes wary. "I would like to visit Hithlum, if you would allow me, my king."
Turgon stiffened, but the High King smiled. "Of course you are welcome in my kingdom, nephew. You'll always be welcome wherever I am."
After that the tension went mostly away. It was decided that Maeglin would go back to Gondolin with Turgon, but would join the first of the diplomats to travel together to Hithlum.
"Good." El stated briskly, stepping forwards with a food tray. "I'm glad that's all decided. Now my lords, it's time for my patients to eat and rest. So if you would please…"
King Turgon barked out a laugh, a wry smile covering his lovely face. "Of course, my lady. I would never dare to go against the orders of a healer. I'll take my leave."
He did so, and El wouldn't deny feeling some relief. He wasn't a bad man, she supposed. Turgon was a good king to Gondolin, that much was obvious if one spent even a few minutes with Gondolin's soldiers. But he was kind of thoughtless towards his family. And since two of those family members were her patients, well, she didn't like him much.
"Thank you, princess." Elarinya blinked. Maeglin was smiling. Actually smiling. A tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. "And thank you, Uncle. I would be glad to leave Gondolin."
And that was that.
oOo
Thankfully, there were also less troublesome patients in her care. Ecthelion was a lovely patient, who always listened to the healers and often had a nice song or poem to share to cheer up the others in the tent.
His friend on the other hand was a bit of a dork. A lovely one, but still a dork.
At first she'd thought it was gratefulness that made him seek her out so often, but El quickly revised that thought as she continued bumping into him in and outside the healing tents. There had been many who had been grateful for her actions in the battle, but they didn't keep seeking her out like Glorfindel did.
Glorfindel always stopped to talk with her when they came across each other outside the healing tents, or offered to walk with El to her destination. Elarinya didn't mind though. There was something about the ellon that made her want to keep talking with him.
He was interesting. Smart, but funny too. He made her laugh and she thought his dorky side was kind of adorable. Fierce as he'd been on the battlefield, outside of it the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower was a surprisingly soft-hearted and pleasant presence in her life.
Her first impression of Glorfindel looking like Apollo made flesh might be true on the outside, but on the inside he was more like a golden retriever.
Take today.
He came to her, sheepish like an elfling caught with their hand in the cookie jar and palm bleeding heavily. El was exasperated, because he hadn't been bleeding this much after the actual battle, but from a friendly training incident he got wounded enough he sought her out.
Still, it was an easy cut to treat.
Taking his hand in hers, El cleaned the wound, subtly ogling him from beneath her lashes. Bit of a dork or not, he made for a handsome sight in his armor. He was flushed from training, skin glowing and his blonde hair gleaming and golden in the sunlight. Elarinya fingers itched to play with it.
Elves experienced the flow of time differently. Slower in some ways yet faster in others. Elarinya had left her childhood behind and had reached an age not unlike the hormonal seventeen-year-olds from her former life. Almost fully grown, but not quite yet.
Glorfindel on the other hand was probably in his early twenties if she compared it to the way Men aged. Ecthelion was probably a few years older, though that might just be his calm disposition.
Elarinya was too young to do anything but admire the beauty of the Eldar from a distance. Which she preferred anyway.
El didn't have time for romance.
She was the Crown Princess of Doriath and young as Elarinya still was in this new life of hers, she would become a healer before she would even consider courting someone. Elves took courting very seriously, and marriage even more so. She had time.
…Why was she thinking about this again?
"Princess?" His gentle question made her blink, and El quickly refocused on the task before her.
She admired the deep cut for a second and asked teasingly, "How is it you came out of the battle with nothing more than some bruises and burns, but here you are, days after the biggest battle of the First Age, bleeding and seeking my help?"
Glorfindel chuckled sheepishly, "Luck?"
Ecthelion sniffed, rolling his eyes. "More like dumb luck, mellon nîn."
"At least he was smart enough to come to a Healer." El pointed out with a smile as she hummed a healing ditty. "That is more than most warriors do when they get hurt."
Galion, who walked past on his way to Fingon's bed, rolled his eyes with a decidedly mocking edge. "Warriors. They all think they are too tough for sepsis."
"This one didn't, master." Defended Elarinya with a chuckle, eyeing their faux-affronted patients. Galion too was a beloved if grouchy presence to the wounded. He was their main healer and kept a close eye on all of them, mother hen that he was.
Galion hummed, "A rarity indeed. Better keep an eye on that one, apprentice."
Fingon, who was determinedly trying to work through the small mountain of paperwork together with Maedhros, snorted out a laugh. Elarinya shot him an inquiring look, confused, but he waved her away.
"Hannon le, my lady." Glorfindel thanked her quietly as she wrapped the already scabbing wound. "I appreciate your care."
El felt her face warming at his sincerity, and was grateful when she noticed Galion preparing himself to take a look at Fingon's broken but rapidly healing ribs. A distraction. Good.
Her master's fäe flared, humming under his breath as he moved his fäe over the king's torso in a way El had only just started to learn. It was amazing what the elves could do with just their fäe. They didn't need the technological advancements of her past life to heal someone. All they needed was their own spiritual energy and the knowledge they'd gained over their long lives.
Maedhros watched them, eyes piercing. Galion smiled at him, a mere twitching of the lips and the copper-haired elf relaxed, relieved. Fingon was doing well.
The scarred ellon suddenly barked out a laugh, sharing an amused look with Fingon. "Remember that time with Caranthir and Celegorm?"
"Russo," The elf laying on the bed said dryly, tolerating the fussing around him with an exasperated air. "I don't think that anyone who was there that day would ever be able to forget it."
El turned towards them, brows raised. "Oh?"
"Apologies, princess." Maedhros excused, grinning brightly. "I have agreed to meet with Azaghâl and Borlad before the dwarrow of Belegost leave us. You shall have to wait to hear that particular story."
She liked this playful side of him. In the weeks leading up to the battle all she'd seen was the General, the grim and focused commander of the armies, but now her former childhood crush was unburdened.
Lighter.
Free from his oath and in love. Maedhros and Fingon spent every moment they could together, talking, laughing and like today, even doing their paperwork together. They worked in tandem, even with the king stuck in his sickbed. It was a wonderful sight to see.
"Tyelko and Moryo are going to kill you if you share that particular childhood story, love." The High King pointed out, a spark of schadenfreude in his eyes. "I would prefer it if you lived."
Elarinya pouted, an expression that was promptly echoed by Glorfindel. But Maedhros weathered their expressions with an air of an experienced older sibling to a whole host of cute little brothers. He smiled at them, and waved with his prosthetic hand.
"You two will have to do better than that. I'll return shortly, and perhaps then I can be convinced to share what I know." He pressed a soft kiss to the side of Fingon's head and stood up to leave. "Get some rest, Finno. Real rest."
Like Ecthelion, the king was close to completely healed, but El knew the energy healing and ruling took. He needed all the rest he could get.
Yet injured or not, the paperwork stopped for no man.
The gold in his braids chimed alluringly as the ellon nodded in agreement, eyes drooping slightly. "Give your friend my greetings."
The copper-haired elf agreed, and gathered up the paperwork scattered around the bed to make room for Fingon to lay down and rest.
Fondness rushed through her as she subtly watched the courting couple say goodbye to each other, acting dignified as their station demanded yet so obviously in love. El knew her expression had softened in something that betrayed her fondness for the red-headed Lord of Himring, but she found she didn't care.
"Really?" The golden-haired ellon blurted, one brow raised in an expression of incredulous surprise as Maedhros shot them one last absentminded smile as he left the healing tents. "Lord Maedhros?"
"Glorfindel!" Ecthelion hissed, narrowing his eyes at his honorable fool of a friend. El shot a glance towards the resting High King, and was relieved to find him asleep.
"So?" She sniffed, schooling her own face in her best imitation of her father's haughty royalness. "What is it to you?"
Her crush had long since disappeared and transformed into a deep appreciation and fondness not unlike what she felt for her best friend or sister. Not that it was any of his business.
He flushed, the tips of his pointy ears turning a rosy red. "Nothing! It's just-"
"He's just what?" Elarinya snipped, quite done with all the badmouthing being done of her favorite out of the Fëanorions from King Turgon's soldiers.
As of yet all the Fëanorions she'd met had offered her nothing but kindness and respect. Even Celegorm and Curufin did not even so much glare in her direction. She would not allow others to spread malicious gossip about them in her hearing.
"The sons of Fëanor are bad news. Doomed." He spoke so earnestly, which was the only reason she wasn't leaving him to heal his own wound. "Kinslayers."
"And dragonslayers. You do realize that there are many good elves here who are also kinslayers right? Despite popular opinion, it wasn't only the sons of Fëanor on that beach." Elarinya shrugged, smirk curling around her mouth. "Besides, your High King doesn't seem to mind."
The 'so why should I' was silent but very much heard.
Glorfindel choked, eyes wide as he tried to find a way out of the hole he'd dug for himself.
"Also," She added, eyeing him knowingly. "You like him too."
The blonde elf really should learn to think before he spoke, because she wouldn't tolerate any of her friends badmouthing the others. She'd gotten to know Glorfindel and Ecthelion quite well as she treated the latter, and El thought they might have become friends in the past week.
Ecthelion wound was healing well, and would be ready to leave the tent soon. Then they would leave, following their king back to Gondolin. Turgon, like the other elven kings, was waiting for the last of the wounded to be travel-ready before retreating back to his precious hidden city.
Elarinya would miss them.
Ecthelion nodded, interrupting their stare-off. "I quite like the male, Laurë. Truly. Despite the unfortunate events of his past, Lord Maedhros is a good commander and a caring leader."
"See!" Elarinya grinned. "Even your better half agrees with me."
The golden-haired lord scowled at them, but she knew she was right. She'd seen the respect growing in his eyes and had heard the tales of the battle they'd fought together. Glorfindel liked Maedhros just fine and they both knew it.
The oath was broken, and together with his brother Maedhros had fought and slayed a dragon. They were still doomed, but that was not quite their fault. Besides, Elarinya rather thought the Valar might be changing their minds with that. They'd helped Maedhros with the dragon after all.
Perhaps the Noldorin could return to Valinor in the future. Perhaps.
It wouldn't make up for the deaths he'd caused, but they all knew Maedhros truly regretted his past actions. Just like many of the other Noldor, he'd been trying hard to make things right with the people he and his brothers had harmed.
He'd even offered Thingol a weregild in the name of his brothers for Lúthien and Beren, knowing the harm they'd caused the couple. Her father had accepted, and would take a letter with the offered terms to Lúthien for her to accept or refuse.
"My Russo is hard to dislike for those who know him. Too honorable and earnest by half for those who look past rumors and the scarring." A voice piped up tiredly from a few beds over, and both Elarinya and Gorfindel flushed. "Besides, I'm a kinslayer too. I too was at Alqualondë where the sands turned red with the blood of our kin."
"You are supposed to be sleeping!" She yelped, trying her hardest not to yell as Glorfindel murmured an apology for his harsh words.
Fingon laughed, sounding very much amused. "How could I sleep when you three were having such an interesting conversation? Besides, Maglor told me about your little infatuation. Very adorable, he said."
Oh no.
"My lord!" Her flustered yelp only drew the interest of the others around her, and even a few of the other patients still convalescing turned their way. "I-"
"Oh?" Glorfindel smirked at her, and El's glare promised the second kinslaying if he dared to continue. "So this has been going on for a while then?"
"Glorfindel!"
Ecthelion let out a soft laugh, sharing an amused look with his High King. He very much enjoyed watching his friend fail at bantering with the young princess. Glorfindel was a social creature by nature and was beloved by many but Ecthelion knew he had few true friends. Too few, in Ecthelion's humble opinion.
Glorfindel had many friendly interactions and acquaintances, but the golden-haired elf had been too busy with his duties to Gondolin and their king in the last few centuries. It was only now that Ecthelion saw a new playful side to his friend as he tried to impress and befriend the lovely princess of Doriath.
He didn't have the gift of foresight, but as he watched the two bicker and and laugh together, he had the peculiar feeling that-
"I am not infatuated with him! And back then I was barely twelve years old and his hair was just the prettiest shade of red. Like liquid fire in the candlelight." Elarinya protested, lips twitching. "Just ask Adar, toddler me had the biggest fascination with any and all pretty hair colors. To my poor ada's affront, I often grabbed at his."
Fingon, Ecthelion and Glorfindel laughed, bright and joyous. Elarinya joined in after a moment, the musical sound of their shared joy much too infectious to deny, even if it was at her expense.
After letting them enjoy their little moment together, El turned to Glorfindel. "You are an old one as well, right, pretty boy? Tell me, do you have any good stories about the esteemed High King of the Noldor?"
She'd adapted well to the more formal language of this world, but sometimes she slipped. Luckily, they didn't find the things she said too strange. The old elves just chalked it up to her youth and her age-mates in Doriath didn't know any better.
'Pretty boy?' The golden-haired ellon mouthed to himself, brows raised incredulously. Ecthelion snorted, covering his mouth as he silently laughed at them.
"Well…"
Fingon abruptly stopped laughing, alarm flashing over his face. "Don't you dare, Laurefindelë. Distant cousin or not, keep in mind I know just as many stories about you as you do me and your pretty face won't stop me from sharing them."
Glorfindel winced, and raised his hands in defeat. El pouted, knowing nothing would come out of his mouth now. Too bad, because now that Fingon and Maedhros were courting it meant she had nothing to tease them with.
Perhaps Maglor would be willing to share some stories with her.
As for the golden-haired ellon, he seemed to be the type in which there would be enough teasing material soon enough. Any elf that dared to fight with his long hair unbound as he had done would surely have a mishap or two that he was embarrassed about.
El hid her grin, something to ask Ecthelion about as soon as Glorfindel left.
"I can see you scheming, you know." He said idly, green-blue eyes scanning over her face. "I have nothing to be embarrassed about."
"No?" she asked, smirk curling around the corners of her mouth. "Not even if I asked your friend over there?"
Ecthelion smirked back at her, eyes twinkling with mischief as he opened his mouth.
A dry voice piped up from behind her, and Elarinya's smirk widened. "Are you two picking on our healer?"
Maedhros had returned.
"They are indeed, my lord." El told him, blinking up at him with big watery eyes that always made her father look like he wanted to scoop her up and coo at her. "They are being mean to me, their poor, exhausted healer!"
Maedhros too, looked like he was holding back an undignified response to her wide shiny eyes and trembling lip. He glared at the two silent elves, suddenly every inch a big brother.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?" He asked, voice mild and all the more dangerous for it. "Lord Glorfindel? Finno? I know it wasn't Lord Ecthelion here who picked on our hard working healer."
Glorfindel snorted, lips twitching. "More like she was picking on us."
"Just that our sweet Aistana here just asked if Glorfindel knew any unfortunate stories about us and our time in Aman." Fingon said, shooting her a smug side-eye. "Such a curious elfling, no?"
"Um-"
Maedhros drew himself up, shooting her a faux-affronted look. "First of all, Princess, I never did anything to be embarrassed about in my life. Second, as the oldest of various little cousins and brothers, I know at least three embarrassing stories about every single one of them."
"Even Maglor?" Elarinya asked, glee obvious. "Celegorm?"
Simultaneously, Fingon asked pointedly, "Not a single thing, hm?"
"Not a single thing." He denied smugly. "And even Káno."
"Maglor tells a different story, my lord." Ecthelion shared, humor gleaming in his eyes. He'd quickly befriended the minstrel as he came to visit his cousin, and the two were two peas in a musical pot. "To hear him tell it, the pair of you were swooning in each other's arms everywhere from Valmar to Himring."
Maedhros raised a cool red brow, "Swooning?"
"There might have been some swooning involved," Fingon admitted, smirking softly. "Though I wouldn't exactly call it embarrassing."
Elarinya kept quiet, eyes switching between the courting pair. The banter between them was often hilarious, and something she expected she wouldn't get to see again. Not as they would return to their lives and their separate courts, where banter and well, flirting, in public spaces would be met with raised eyebrows.
The copper-haired elf set his jaw, schooling his expression in an impenetrable mask. "I don't recall any swooning."
"Well, you wouldn't." Fingon pointed out, biting back a grin. "You were the one doing the swooning."
Maedhros gave Fingon an absolutely deadpan look that didn't betray any of the amusement he was feeling. "That doesn't count. I fainted from blood loss and exhaustion."
"Into my arms."
"Excuse me, I had been enjoying the hospitality of Morgoth and his lieutenant for over three decades. I was hanging off a cliff with one shackled arm when you came to the rescue on a giant eagle of all things. Be glad 'swooning' was all I did." He huffed, oblivious to the sympathetic winces of the other three. "You were the one swooning in my arms this time."
"So I did." Fingon smiled at him, a private little thing that made El want to blush. "I would swoon into your arms a thousand times more if it meant you would never have to experience the hardships you have again."
Ugh. Elarinya shuffled uncomfortably on her feet, wishing she was anywhere but here. This was sweet and all, but it was even worse than watching her parents flirt with each other!
Maedhros smiled back, eyes soft. "I would experience the pain and torment of the Enemy again as long as it means you will be there to catch me, beloved."
She shared a telling look with Glorfindel and Ecthelion, and motioned with her head to give the couple some well-deserved privacy.
They clearly needed some.
oOo
Another week passed, and then the last of the elves were healed enough for them to be able to make the return trip home. Elarinya couldn't wait, though she was sad to leave her new friends behind.
(Her mind flashed back to the private goodbye with first the courtly Ecthelion and then finally a strangely serious Glorfindel.
"May I write to you, my lady?" He asked, those pretty, sunlit eyes looking earnestly into El's, his sword callouses rasping gently against her as he held her hands in his. Elarinya found she could not look away from those hopeful eyes.
The world stood still as she gave her friend the only answer she could give him. "Yes.")
Hanneth would be joining them to Doriath. Her courtship with Thalion had deepened enough that the two of them couldn't bear to be separated now. Elarinya was glad for it, she'd dreaded saying goodbye to her new friend.
The dwarrow and men had left first, both impatient to return to their homes. The Easterlings under Bór's command had been rewarded for their loyalty in the form of land on Maedhros' territory. Bór himself had fallen to a balrog, taking a hit meant for his son and saving his life in the process.
Maedhros mourned for his friend, but he was glad to see Bór's sacrifice hadn't been for naught. His three sons had survived the five day long battle, and so had most of his people. The Easterlings - led by Bór's eldest son Borlad - would go to Himring where their new fiefdom was.
The Easterlings under Uldor's command had been similarly awarded by Caranthir, since they'd settled on his lands. Uldor had come out of the battle unscathed, though he hadn't yet lost his fury at his brother's betrayal.
The dwarves left earlier that week, eager to return to their precious mountains.
The elves remained for a few days after that, lingering to give the last of the wounded some extra time to heal and to make sure that the land they'd fought on was repaired to the best of their ability. Which with their songs and healing ability was quite a bit.
By the time they were truly ready to leave the barren battlefield had been turned into a field of wildflowers.
With that their job was done, and so Doriath, Gondolin and the various Noldor could finally return to their respective homes. The troops were all gathered, various banners flying proudly in the wind. The last of the injured were resting safely in the karts or being carried in litters, ready to be transported home.
The three (and a half) elven kings had all given their short but heartfelt speeches when a deafening screech came from far up high.
An Eagle.
The beautiful creature landed smoothly in the clearing and from its back jumped one of the tallest beings Elarinya had ever seen. He was tall, pale skinned and had a sandy kind of blonde hair that reminded El of grain. The Maia - because this male could only be one of her mother's kin - was wearing full armor, but didn't seem to be prepared for battle.
He was calm as he prowled towards them, expression smoothed into a placid mask.
Her father, seated next to her on his stallion, shifted. Elarinya turned to him, "Father?"
"The Herald of Manwë and Chief of the Maiar." Thingol shared softly, sounding fond. "Your mother's dearest kin."
Eonwë.
As if he heard her thinking his name, his golden brown eyes - the same color as the feathers of the eagle behind him - met hers. Her fäe reached out despite herself, and she was surprised to feel him reaching back at her.
Family.
He felt like family. Like her naneth. Soft and peaceful, but with a core of steel. Eonwë had been an often spoken of name in their household. The Maia was close to her mother, and had often made an appearance in the bedtime stories of El's childhood.
Eonwë, the Herald of Manwë, stood there and announced, "Hail children of Eru Ilúvatar! Hear my words! I've come bearing a message from Manwë Súlimo, High King of Arda."
Fingon was the first to urge his horse forward to where the Maia was waiting, bowing his head politely. "Greetings Eonwë, Lord of the Eagles. We welcome you."
Maedhros, Turgon and Thingol followed closely behind him, and exchanged greetings of their own with the Chief of the Maiar. Elarinya and Meaglin shared a look and silently decided to stay with their people for now. She wanted to meet her mother's kin, but this was not the time.
The Maia cleared his throat, and his voice echoed over the field. "You've all fought long and hard against the foul darkness that has marred these lands. The Valar have witnessed your struggle and your grief. Let it be known it was not all for naught."
El fought to keep from wincing. Unless the Maia was here to bring their loved ones back, that was not the most kind thing to say to those who have lost people in the battles against the Enemy. Then again, Eonwë was only here as the messenger.
The Chief of the Maiar continued, ignoring the faint grumbles rising up. "By the decree of the Valar, Melkor has been executed for his crimes against the Music and his remains cast in the void. He will not reform until Dagor Dagorath is upon us. Never shall he harm the children of Eru Ilúvatar again."
A cheer went up, and Elarinya let out a soft sigh of relief. They hadn't forgiven him. He hadn't gotten a third chance. Morgoth was gone, forever even perhaps.
"King Thingol." He then greeted, and the tone had audibly changed. El nudged her beloved filly forward, until she was standing at her father's right. "It's been too long."
"Greetings, law-brother." Thingol greeted with a smile. "How long shall you stay?"
Will he join them to Doriath? Will he be able to visit Melian? That was the question her father was really asking, and one El was curious about too.
"No, unfortunately not." Eonwë stated, mouth turning down a fraction. Then he turned to meet El's purple gaze and smiled. "Namárië, little niece."
Elarinya startled, surprised by the familiar address. "Namárië, uncle. I'm glad to finally meet my naneth's favorite relative at last."
He smiled brighter than the sun, making El feel warm all the way down to her toes. Uncle. She quite liked it. It had been a while since she had one of those. Her ada's brothers after all were both still in Valinor and thus out of her reach.
Two of the others in their little group shifted, bringing the Maia's attention back to them.
"Lord Maedhros Nelyafinwë." He stated, golden brown eyes staring straight at the copper-haired ellon. Maedhros nodded, and nudged his horse closer. "You offered the Valar a bargain."
He nodded again and reached into the saddlebag. Maedhros took out a parcel wrapped in cloth, and shared a look with Fingon. Elarinya watched the two communicate silently, and only felt relief when two seconds later the red-haired lord placed the parcel in his lap and started to unwrap it.
Unwrapping it slowly with his one good hand and stump took a little while, but they didn't care. Bit by bit something utterly breathtaking was revealed.
In his hand was an exquisitely made coronet, made of braided strands of shining mithril and decorated with three glowing jewels. "For the help of the Valar against the fallen Ainu Melkor, I promised them the jewels my father once denied even Manwë. Crafted upon a coronet made by my brother's Curufin's hands, made from the same mithril that slayed Glaurung, adorned with the three Silmaril crafted by Fëanáro Curufinwë. I offer you this freely, Herald, to give to the Valar."
It was quiet. Not a single elf dared to breathe as Maedhros handed over the exquisitely made crown.
"You kept your word." The Maia said, sounding unsurprised but pleased as he took the offered coronet. "Very well. Then let it be known; the Valar have foreseen that the First Age will soon be passed, and the Second Age is set to arrive. Be wary, children of Ilúvatar and be prepared. The watchful peace you've built isn't over and the Enemy has not been defeated yet."
Sauron.
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Extra scene:
"You've asked for us?" Elarinya questioned gently after the elf guarding the king's tent let her and her father inside.
It was the day before they would leave for Doriath, and Fingon had finally been released from the healing tents. She'd been preparing Eleniel for the trip home when she got the message that the High King of the Noldor and his general wanted to speak with both the High King of Doriath and his daughter.
The message was formal in ways her contact with the two ancient elves hadn't ever been, and El was surprisingly nervous.
"Indeed we have." Fingon replied, standing up from where he and Maedhros had been sitting. "Thank you both for coming here so speedily."
He bowed politely, braids falling over his shoulder. Maedhros followed suit, bowing the slightest bit deeper than the elf beside him.
"High King Elu Thingol of Doriath," He began, eyes warm but watchful. "We've asked for your presence here today because I, Maedhros Nelyafinwë, eldest son of Fëanor, eldest son of Finwë, owe your daughter a debt."
Fingon seamlessly took over. "As do I, my lord. Both our Houses do. Which leaves us with a few possibilities. Because though her actions were those of one many years her elder, Princess Elarinya Aistana of Doriath is still underage."
"And so here I am." Her father stated calmly, his face a placid mask. But those gray eyes were cunning, and El held back a sigh. Silmaril or not, her father wouldn't be her father if he wasn't an ambitious asshole sometimes.
Well, best to get ahead of this.
"I didn't do much." She told them resolutely, ignoring the sharp look from her father. "Truly, my lord. You and your brother did the hard part. You fought in the battle for five days straight. You and Lord Maglor killed Glaurung. King Fingon fought Gothmog and Morgoth. Everyone on that battlefield did just as much as I did."
El met their eyes, willing them to understand. "You saved us. All I did was sing a song."
"You are too humble." Maedhros stated finally, breaking the silence. "It graces you, princess. But you did not just 'sing a song'. We all felt the power you poured into it, and it saved us."
"We wish to offer you something." Fingon stated, hand reaching out to grip Maedhros'. "We have two offers really, and we'll let you decide which one suits you better."
Thingol huffed, exasperated. "Your council is interfering already?"
"The council made their wishes clear." Maedhros replied, sharing a knowing look with the two kings. "But while they are wise they are neither the High King nor the Head of House Fëanor. Fingon and I will listen to their advice, but we are in no way obligated to obey."
Elarinya narrowed her eyes at them. "What did they want?"
"While I would be remiss not to offer you this, I believe I already know your answer." Fingon said with a wry glint in his eyes. He shared a look with her father who nodded with sympathetic understanding. "Do not hesitate to refuse their offer, princess. I certainly would. But my advisors insisted."
"Very well," Thingol said, waving one hand through the air. "Make your offer."
Maedhros took over when Fingon hesitated. He looked at her, and smiled. "They want a marriage. As soon as you come of age. Preferably into the house of Finwë, which means either Finno's nephew or one of my brothers."
Elarinya narrowed her eyes and Maedhros grinned.
"I know." He nodded, red hair gleaming in the candlelight. "A political marriage is not the solution here. Though we would both love to call you our little sister in truth, it is beyond the pale to ask this of you."
"At least you realize that." Her father sniped, sitting stiff-backed at her side. "My daughter will not marry a Noldo."
El rolled her eyes, "But no offense meant to the High King of the Noldor of course, father."
The tension broke and all four elves chuckled, amused by her witty comeback.
"We would not condemn you to a loveless marriage, princess." Fingon clarified softly. "That is not our way."
"So here is our second offer." The copper-haired elf began, thumb caressing the back of Fingon's hand as he soothed him. "We would like to offer to foster you."
Elarinya blinked, stupefied. "Fosterage?"
Fostering was an ancient tradition mostly practiced by the nobility. It had the goal of forging strong bonds between different Houses by letting the elflings grow and learn with another House.
Or, if an elfling was orphaned but still from an important House, then it was a step below true adoption. The elfling would have a home and be considered part of their foster parents House, but keep their own name.
Either way, the underage elf would be added to the family registry of their foster parent. They would be family in all the way that matters.
"Yes, if you wish." The High King of the Noldor nodded, eyes hopeful. "We would like to welcome you in Hithlum as our fosterling. For five years, if you agree."
And Elarinya made her decision.
A/N: Next up, a big time skip!
This was the first part of the story, and after this we'll get to Elarinya's adult years and all that involves. Because Morgoth might be defeated, but there's still another Dark Lord waiting and scheming to rule over Arda.
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