A/N: Thank you all for every follow, favorite and review! I really appreciate them all.
So, as you might have noticed the story has been mostly Maedhros/Fingon as of yet. Most of that is because Elarinya is still underage, but it's also a bit of spite after I got a homophobic comment by a guest. That comment has since been deleted, but I doubled down on my Russingon. Sorry not sorry.
Though rest assured that the Glorfindel/Elarinya ship will happen soon. If as a slow burn because like I said, El is still underage.
Enjoy!
First came the birds.
As Elarinya Sang to help her people, Manwë blew apart the foliage of the tree, revealing her to friend and foe alike. But the silver-haired elleth didn't realize that.
Not then.
She sang and sang. Until her voice became raw and her fäe started to waver. From high up in her tree, she watched as the Valar themselves answered her plea, nature and time responding and helping where they were needed most.
It felt like she sang for days, weeks even.
But they were winning. The tide was rapidly turning as the gods offered their support at last and helped the fighters beat back the evil infecting their lands.
The dragon was the most fearsome of all, and the most pertinent danger right now. The armies had separated again, both watching from a safe distance as the dragon stormed on the field.
He roared his challenge, a stream of piping hot fire bursting out of his great maw.
There were two brave souls who answered his challenge.
She was nearing the end of her deep reserves when she heard a horrible noise, almost like a high-pitched cawing laughter. Opening the eyes she hadn't realized she'd closed, Elarinya saw a great swarm of black birds approaching swiftly.
Flesh-eating birds of Crebain.
She yelped as they flew straight towards her, startled. They hit her, disrupting the song and Elarinya raised her sword.
"Princess," Thalion called up from the foot of the tree, surprising her with his presence. "Jump down!"
But El couldn't. She had to finish her song or all shall be lost. Taking a deep breath, she crouched down low on the branch and started the second to last verse. It was hard, balancing on the tree branch, singing like that and fighting off the malicious birds of darkness, all at the same time.
Thalion, from down on the ground, tried to help the best he could. Throwing rocks and sticks after his arrows had been depleted, he knocked off many of the birds before they could get their teeth in her.
She couldn't do much other than prevent them from pushing her out of the tree as she continued to sing, but more quietly now as she split her focus. She killed a few birds, and slapped away a few others.
Eventually the horrible birds gave up, leaving Elarinya to start the last verse, the most important one.
Her fäe was almost completely depleted, but she set her jaw and stubbornly continued on. Her people were fighting for their lives out there. They were fighting for their loved ones, for everything and everyone good and righteous living on Arda and beyond. They needed her, and so she'd give them everything she had.
If there was any reason at all she'd been reborn into this fantasy world, then surely this was it.
Lord Maedhros and his brother went to face Glaurung, and soon Maglor disappeared underneath the Father of Dragon's belly in a move so startlingly stupid that it took her breath away.
Maedhros was flying through the air, having jumped off his horse. He roared something she wasn't able to hear, and threw the mithril spear.
It was an awe-inspiring sight.
The eldest of Fëanor's son's shone in the faint light of the eclipsed sun, copper hair not unlike a beacon of fire. His fäe was flaring, broadcasting his desperation and hope. His strength and determination.
His righteousness.
Glaurung roared in pain, and Elarinya realized that Maglor was still alive under there. The spear Maedhros threw flew in a straight arc, but the dragon was trashing.
She increased the power of her song, pleading for help.
And was answered.
Lady Yavanna offered her strength to contain the dragon, making greenery grow out of the field and making it wrap itself around Glaurung's legs. He stilled, unable to move.
The spear hit its mark.
Straight into the dragon's eye it went, piercing through the eye to the brain.
Silence spread through both sides of the field, from orc to man to elf. Elarinya smiled through her relieved tears as she saw the dragon that had haunted her in her vision fall through the ground, dead. Maedhros was safely on the ground, watching the enormous dragon fall. Maglor was somewhere near the body, alive and mostly well if she read his fäe right.
They'd done it.
They'd actually done it.
Opening her mouth to finish the last bit of the truly impressive final verse of the song she'd composed together with Maglor, El's head snapped around when a twig broke somewhere behind her. The trees murmured their worry, and she stiffened.
No elf would disturb nature like that.
From her high up view point, she could spot a flash of black iron between the trees, a moment of pale gray skin painted with black symbols. An orc pack.
"Thalion, get up here!" She ordered, eyes wide with fright.
But it was too late.
The birds had already betrayed their location.
His green eyes gazed up at her, silently ordering her to stay hidden. He got in position, sword glowing blue as the orcs crashed through the bushes. They'd clearly just come from the battlefield, their filthy bodies covered in both black and red blood.
"Elf!" The leader barked, baring his black stained teeth as his underlings surrounded both the tree Elarinya was in and a tense Thalion. "Where is your mistress?"
Thalion sneered, "You are too late, orc. She is long gone."
"Liar!" The orcs snarled and fell upon Thalion with terrible, guttural cries. Her guard, who fought valiantly.
One elf against six orcs were not good odds. El watched for a second, frozen with indecision. But not for long. Her guard, her friend, let out a pained grunt as the ax of one of the orcs sliced through flesh and muscle, and only then she finally unfroze.
She threw herself off the branch, swift and silent as Námo's embrace, and landed on the orc preparing to stab Thalion in the back.
El killed him swiftly, barely even thinking about it. Instinct just took over. She'd trained for this for years, and six orcs were nothing for two elves.
"Well done, Princess." He said between kills, radiating both disapproval and pride at her disobeying his silent order.
Thalion had already killed three, so there were only two left. These two were smarter than the other ones, a spark of intelligence gleamed in their black hateful eyes.
"Songbird." One grunted, grinning nastily. "Master wants you. Master will break you. But first Borzug and Talzog will play with you and your little friend."
"Yeah, no." El snapped back, back straight and sword raised. "I don't think so."
The other one said nothing. He just stood there, silently glaring at them with hatred as he eyed the glowing swords in their hands. This orc was pale skinned, bigger than most and covered in scars.
"One for you and one for me?" She hissed to Thalion, fixing a cocky grin on her face. Her guard was wounded, though thankfully it was his left arm that was hurt and not his right.
They could win this.
Thalion sighed, exasperated. "Very well, my lady."
The orcs seemed to have reached the same conclusion, as one rushed at her while the big one cautiously approached Thalion.
It was surprisingly easy, fighting like this.
Elarinya was a healer. Yet she found that she could do this. She was a good fighter. And though she'd feared she might not be able to fight to the death against any living creature, she found she could make an exception for orcs.
She slashed, stabbed and parried, barely breaking a sweat. Behind her she heard the grunts of the other two, and though she didn't dare look, she'd faith Thalion would be victorious.
As she was.
Elarinya performed a move her father had taught her, twisting the sword in her hands like it was an extension of herself. The orc gasped, surprise lighting his eyes as he stared at the sword sticking out of his throat.
And then his head fell down to the ground.
She grinned victoriously, wiping the few drops of black blood away from her face. She turned towards her guard, prepared to crow about their wins.
And paled.
Thalion lay on the ground, hand on his stomach where blood was rapidly seeping through his fingers. The pale orc stood above him, spitting something in that horrible Black Speech as he raised his sword above his head in a final deathblow.
Elarinya didn't know what happened then. She felt the sharp stab of panic, remembered thinking she had to do something. She had to save him.
The orc turned, a sneer on his ugly face.
Elarinya screamed, loud and clear. She put every last drop of her power in that sound, desperate to save her friend. The sound burst forward, and El swayed, vision going black for a moment.
Then the orc's bald head was rolling away from the rest of his body, covering both Thalion and Elarinya in the disgusting black arterial spray.
Black spots danced before her vision, and she knew she wouldn't be able to go on anymore. Elarinya lost consciousness to a very worried Thalion, fäe and hröa utterly exhausted.
oOo
A familiar fäe was poking hers. Turning her face in her pillow with a pitiful groan, Elarinya swatted blindly at a bemused Hanneth.
"Ugh, naneth. Five more minutes please." She groaned, squinting into the bright light of the rising sun penetrating through the canvas of her father's tent. El blinked and flushed when she realized it wasn't her mother but her colleague who was standing at the foot of her cot. "Hanneth, go away."
Pressing her face back into her wonderful pillow, Elarinya tried to ignore her increasingly amused friend. Her body felt like she'd been run over and she didn't want to return to the healing tents yet. Surely her break wasn't over yet?
She could feel her father close by, fäe peaceful and tranquil. Meditating instead of sleeping as he watched over the resting form of his vulnerable daughter.
The older elleth snorted, and ripped away her blanket. "No can do, princess. You've slept long enough."
Her father's fäe stirred, awakening from the deep rest meditation brought him. With her face stubbornly pressed into her delightfully fluffy pillow, she couldn't see her father's expression as he took in the scene, but his tone told her enough.
"Daughter." Her ada's voice was stern, but utterly relieved, El felt a flash of confusion. Then she remembered. Elarinya shot up, wide eyed. She'd forgotten. In her sleep-addled state she'd forgotten about everything. The battle. The dragon. Thalion.
She must have said some of that out loud, because her friend immediately started to reassure her.
"He's alright, El." Hanneth soothed, reading the look on her face. "Thalion is injured, yes, but he'll be alright. Thanks to you he'll be perfectly fine in a few days."
Thingol nodded, "Your guard is fine, little star. Thalion protected you as he swore he would, despite the fact you left the protection of the healing tents. You saved him, Elarinya."
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She shot a helpless look at her father, who immediately approached her cot. Tears clogged up her throat and Thingol took her in his arms, crooning sweet nothings at her like he used to do when she'd been a very young elfling.
El relaxed, feeling her father's fäe brush hers in a type of comfort only her parents could give. "Ada-"
"Hush, dearheart." He murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Let out your grief and sorrow. Cry as much as you need but know you did well, my daughter. So very well. Your mother and I couldn't be prouder of the elf you are becoming."
She stifled a sob, everything she'd suppressed in the last few days coming out. She was distantly aware of Hanneth leaving the tent, giving them some much needed privacy.
Her father started to sing a sweet song her mother made for her daughters. Voice deep and warm, she pressed her face in his chest and let the tears flow.
El had seen so many people die. She'd seen them hurt and be killed. She'd been unable to heal some, and others had not ever made it to the tents. She'd seen Gothmog and Glaurung. She'd watched over the battlefield, helping where she could. She'd sung.
Like Lúthien before her, she'd poured her very essence into the song she and Maglor made to help their people.
All of it.
She felt sad, angry and her soul felt so empty. She'd fought and killed and she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do now.
"Elarinya." Thingol crooned, hugging her close as she cried silent tears. "Our little morning star. Perhaps I should have named you Idhrenniel after all, but your bravery and song saved us all."
Elarinya gave a watery sounding snort. That name was a running joke whenever she did something that lacked wisdom.
From climbing into an apple tree as a young elfling to asking her wonderful filly Eleniel to go as hard as she could the first time she rode her. But her actions on the edge of the battlefield surely took the cake.
"Ada." She pouted, breathing in his scent. "I like my name."
He hummed, the musical sound lighting her spirit. She looked up, and took him in for the first time since keeping watch over him in her scrying waters. Thingol had the ageless beauty of all Eldar and the radiant eyes of those who'd seen the light of the Two Trees but for the first time in her life, Elarinya thought he appeared stressed.
"Adar." El frowned guiltily, sitting up. "You're hurt."
It wasn't bad, but it could have been. A thin slash bisected his eyebrow, going to his temple. It could have taken his eye, but thankfully it had missed by a hair's breadth.
"What happened?"
Thingol winced, and she knew it was bad. "I suppose you are old enough to know the truth, but senseless as the thought is, I wish your mother and I could have shielded you for just a bit longer from the hardships you experienced here." He sighed and El frowned, worried. "Very well, after Glaurung was defeated and you stopped singing, the Dark Lord joined the battle."
"What?!"
Morgoth had been there? The Dark Lord had been there and El hadn't known. Hadn't seen it. Hadn't warned them nor had she been able to help them. Elarinya swayed where she sat, still exhausted despite her hours of rest. Hanneth came running back into the tent at the sound of her shock, a concerned look on her pretty face.
"Mellon nîn, I'm fine," she muttered, waving her concern aside. "There is no cause for alarm, I am just tired after all that transpired and my lord-father shared some troubling news of the battlefield."
The healer glared in the way of all healers, and Thingol winced.
"I might have shared some upsetting news." There was a note of an unspoken apology in his tone. Her father was a proud elf and while he'd been doing better since giving the Silmaril back, he was still as proud as a peacock.
El's lips twitched, and Hanneth nodded, a knowing look in her brown eyes. She turned her no-nonsense look on the king, and somehow managed to convey that he might be royal but he certainly wasn't her king.
Thingol cleared his throat, and stood. "I should go check up on our soldiers." He shot her a serious look. "Listen to your healers, little star."
"Of course, ada." She chirped with an innocent look that fooled no one.
Thingol sighed, reluctantly amused. Bending down to press a kiss to her forehead, he smoothed down the shining silver locks she'd inherited from him and left.
"As would anyone be." Hanneth agreed, pointedly continuing the conversation from where they'd left off. She walked over to the cot where El was still sitting and sat down. She gripped El's hand tightly in hers, making Elarinya shoot her a questioning look.
Hanneth ignored her, and continued speaking with utter sincerity. "Thank you, Elarinya. You saved us. You saved Thalion."
She felt her cheeks flush in an uncharacteristic blush. "I-"
"You might be the most stupidly brave elfling I have ever met." Another familiar voice interrupted them coolly, and El looked up to see her master in healing scowling at them. "Your mother is going to murder me, you realize?"
"Sorry?"
Healer Galion harrumphed, but she noticed the fond look he tried to hide. "As you should be. I promised your parents I'd look out for you, keep you safe. This," He waved at her tired and rumpled appearance. "Was not safe."
Her mind flashed back to the pale orc she'd slain and she shuddered.
"I am sorry, master." She told him, like with her father suddenly seeing the stress she'd caused him by not telling him of her plans. They'd kept most of their plans concerning her vision a secret, only the Kings and the Fëanorions knowing. And then there had been her own plans, of which only Maglor had an inkling.
"You foolish child." He sighed, and Elarinya knew she was forgiven.
Galion came closer, and Hanneth stood up to make room. She sat up straighter, very familiar with that glint in his eyes. He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead, closing his eyes. Galion's cool fäe slid over her skin, scanning her fäe and hröa both.
"Good." The healer hummed. "You are rapidly refilling your reserves. Your bruises have been healed and so has that nasty cut on your shoulder. Try not to strain it and you should be completely healed in a day or two."
Elarinya grinned, shooting her master a hopeful look. "Does that mean I can return to working in the healing tents?"
Behind Galion, Hanneth raised a hand to cover her amused smile.
The Head Healer of Doriath rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Only if you can manage to get dressed and eat without losing consciousness again."
"Really?" Her eyes lit up.
He smirked. "I rather prefer you where I can keep an eye on you, princess. Though you will not use your fäe for at least another two days, and you shall take a break whenever I tell you to."
That was already more than she expected.
"Even if I have to heal my patients in the way of Men, I'll take it. As long as it means that I have patients again." El swore, carefully getting up. Her muscles were as stiff as they could be, but the healing rate of an elf was extraordinary. She'd be alright in a day or two, but until then this would do.
Like her mother, Elarinya did not do well being bored. Languishing in bed was not something she liked to do. Healers always did make the worst patients.
Galion's lips twitched, and he asked with a knowing look, "I see you have quite enough of the adventurous life?"
"Yes!" She exclaimed, throwing up her hands. She'd chosen her apprenticeship to Healer Galion for a reason, and it wasn't because she was unable to fight. "It was quite horrible, if I'm being honest."
"War always is, my dear. War always is."
Standing behind the beautifully carved changing screen as she dressed, El called to the other two, "Now, fill me in please. What exactly happened after the dragon fell?"
That moment, that history changing moment, still gave her goosebumps to think about. The Music has changed with Glaurung's death, and it was because of her.
She learned she'd been in a deep, coma-like sleep for almost two whole days, recharging her fäe and healing her body. But what followed next was a tale straight from a storybook.
Galion told most of it, having heard it first hand from the patients who had been brought in.
Morgoth had shown up after the two oldest of Fëanor's sons killed the dragon, halting the fighting between both armies. Fingon the Valiant challenged him to single combat. Maedhros singing his own plea in the language of their gods, and the Valar actually answering to one of the Noldor they Doomed.
The King of Manwë's Eagles, Thorondor, catching Morgoth and taking him West. The crown with the two remaining Silmarils falling and Fingon prying them out and gifting them to Maedhros.
The Oath breaking, at last fulfilled.
By the time Galion was finished talking she'd changed into her healing robes and had eaten the nutritious broth and bread that her master had shoved into her hands. She basically devoured the offered food, not having realized how hungry she was after two days of sleeping.
"Very well." He sighed, eyeing her critically. Hanneth had already left, back to work now that Elarinya had woken. "Follow me."
Elarinya followed him outside, hiding the slight tremble in her hands. She was nervous. What would she find when she re-entered the healing tents? Would they realize who she was, what she'd done?
She hoped not.
Unfortunately, it seemed like they did. She'd barely stepped out of her father's tent when a buzz of exclamations started flying around. Eyes bored into her back, and El fought to keep her face impassive. The look in their eyes…
Entering the healing tents was a relief.
It was peaceful there. The chaos of before having changed into a peaceful environment that promoted swift healing. Only the most injured remained, the rest having long since been treated and moved back to their own tents.
Ecthelion was still there, laying still in his cot. Asleep now, she knew instinctively. Just a normal sleep.
Five more elves lay on cots spread through the tent in various states of wakefulness. Thalion wasn't there, and neither was Hanneth so she assumed her guard was recovering in one of the other healing tents. She didn't recognize any of the patients, no one but the elf resting on the last bed.
On that bed, to her great surprise, lay Fingon.
Propped up against his pillow, Elarinya got a great view of his chest, wrapped up in so many bandages she was surprised he looked as comfortable as he was. Yet behind his naturally cheerful face was grief, hidden beneath it all.
He'd lost someone.
With both of the patients she knew sat a visitor, though only Fingon's had a hand clasped in his as if they never wanted to let go. Maedhros and the High King looked to be deep in conversation.
Joy flashed through her at the sight.
Fingon looked up when he noticed her standing there, eyes shining. "Ai Elbereth, how glad I am to see you back on your feet."
"Your majesty, Lord Maedhros." She greeted, forgoing the curtsy she'd have given them if they'd been in court.
Maedhros turned around, and Elarinya felt herself flush as his piercing gaze met hers. "Princess Elarinya Aistana. Though I am grieved by the suffering you've gone through, I must give you my heartfelt gratitude for your help in defeating the Enemy and his fell creatures. How blessed we are to have you in our lives. Protecting us, saving us from our doom."
The name he bestowed on her hit her like a bolt of lightning, leaving her flushed and utterly flattered.
An epessë. She'd been given an epessë by the former High King Maedhros Nelyafinwë himself. A Quenya name, which would surely give her father some ire, but she liked it. She really liked it. Aistana, the blessed.
Fingon nodded in sincere agreement, gripping the copper-headed elf's sole hand tightly into his own. "How are you doing, princess?"
"My lords," Elarinya said, still shocked. "I am honored by your concern and the name you've bestowed on me. Both of you. I still feel like I could sleep for a week, but otherwise I am adequately healed."
She met the piercing blue-green eyes of the ellon she'd watched in her scrying water. Clean and out of his armor, she noted the high cheekbones and mane of golden hair that she couldn't help but admire. He had a kind of Grecian beauty, and she wondered if perhaps the sun god Apollo had been inspired by someone like him.
He nodded at her, gratefulness and relief shining in his crystal clear eyes.
Elarinya tore her gaze away, feeling strangely seen. "But enough about me, my master shared with me the news of what happened after my guard and I were attacked. How are you both doing?"
She came closer, subtly eyeing the familiar golden-haired elf sitting by his friend who was very emphatically not paying attention to their conversation. Neither was anyone else, so clearly Elarinya could expect her new name to spread around like wildfire.
Elves cared little for privacy like that, too used to living in close quarters with various branches of family members or in cities where everyone knew each other. Next to a person's craft, gossip was the lifeblood of society and its main entertainment.
They smiled at her, Maedhros' facial scars pulling, and the High King started talking.
Elarinya checked his bandages as she worked, movements a bit slower than she'd like. Maedhros added his two cents whenever necessary but otherwise kept quiet. He watched her, fäe radiating concern.
Her lips twitched, he was such a big brother.
But she lost her amusement when they got to sharing another piece of news. Her lips flattened when she was absentmindedly told that Morgoth's chief lieutenant, Sauron, was still unaccounted for.
A foreboding shiver ran along her spine, and El's hands stilled.
"Princess?"
She shook her head, continuing checking the Noldor's stitches. "It's nothing."
His rips were healing well and there was no sign of infection in his wounds, not that she'd expected anything different from a patient under the care of Hanneth and her master. Still, she was unsettled.
The news about Sauron's absence in this battle was bad. Instinct and the vague memories from her past life told her it was very bad.
"We too are uncomfortable knowing Mairon is still walking amongst us." Maedhros said quietly, eyes watchful. "We'll be vigilant, Lady Aistana. We'll be vigilant and we'll live, because life without joy is no living at all."
Fingon patted his hand, looking mushy. Elarinya felt a bit mushy herself to be honest. The quiet dignity, the honor and sincerity that the redheaded ellon carried like a cloak was mesmerizing to watch. He was a king without a crown.
But Elarinya had plans to change that.
So many plans.
"I should return to my people. Take some time to rest, Finno. I'll be back in time to share our evening meal." Maedhros stood up, patting Fingon's hand with a tired smile. "Thank you for your care, princess."
They watched him walk away, red hair transforming into a sheet of fire as the sun hit it. Fingon sighed with badly hidden longing, and El's head shot around fast enough to crack.
"And when exactly are you going to do something about that, my king?" She asked, one brow raised impertinently.
The High King of the Noldor gaped at her, mouth going slack with surprise. "Excuse me?"
El rolled her eyes, exasperated. "You know very well what I'm talking about, my lord. You and Lord Maedhros. It's been going long enough, don't you agree? All that pining you two are doing can't be good for you."
Glorfindel - eavesdropping totally inconspicuously as he sat at his friend's bedside - chose that exact moment to choke on his own spit, and Elarinya shot him a glare. He better not ruin this for them or otherwise she was going to make that pretty boy wish he'd perished facing Gothmog and his underlings.
He held up his hands, lips twitching and El nodded in satisfaction.
Never would she have thought she would become a matchmaker in this never life of hers, let alone a matchmaker between too stubborn, ancient but blind elves who couldn't see how besotted they each were. Even her nephew Dior was better at courting than they were, and he was not even a fraction of their age!
(Dior was happily courting a lovely elleth named Nimloth and she expected there would be a wedding announcement for them both in the near future. Elarinya was both proud and slightly weirded out that her cute little nephew had outgrown her so. Still, at least in years she would always be his elder, something she wouldn't ever let him forget.)
The king stared at her, bewildered. He blinked, once, twice, before seemingly recovering at least some of his composure. He tilted his head as he searched her face, braids falling off his shoulder.
"I did not expect to be scolded by an elfling not even out her first century." Fingon mused mildly, an bemused air around him. "Then again, I also didn't expect to owe my life to that very same young elleth."
Glorfindel coughed again and El rolled her eyes at Fingon, whose lips twitched. "Are you alright over there, Glorfindel?"
"Ah," He coughed sheepishly. "I'm fine, your majesty. Thank you."
Fingon was full on smiling now and El got the sense he enjoyed messing with the blonde elf. "That's good. I wouldn't want one of my brother's lords to be harmed in my presence. Also, Elarinya, have you been introduced to our brave Lord Glorfindel yet?"
"No. What has my age to do with anything?" She asked, ignoring his attempt to redirect the conversation. El turned to the water bowl, filling the cup standing next to it with the fresh water and offering it to the king. "If you don't want to talk about it, just say so. But I think you do."
He chuckled, accepting the offered drink before reclining against his pillows. "You are a determined one, aren't you?"
"Always." Elarinya stated proudly, lifting her chin. "Now, tell me everything."
"What is there to tell?" Fingon shrugged. "After I fought Morgoth and gave him his father's Silmarils, I named him my beloved and called him my Russo. Then I fainted due to my injuries, and woke up here, where my brother told me my sister was murdered over a century ago and I have a nephew."
He nodded to the bed closest to him where a dark-haired elf lay with a passing resemblance to Fingon. The same skin tone and cheekbones, though this elf's hair was so dark it seemed to absorb light. He was sleeping, chest barely moving he lay so still.
"I'm sorry for your loss." Elarinya told him quietly, grieved by the obvious pain in his eyes. "Princess Aredhel was a fierce elleth and someone I'd have liked to meet."
She quietly wondered how it was that he hadn't known he had a nephew. Surely Turgon hadn't kept the news about their shared sister and nephew a secret for over a hundred years? Clearly the elf laying on the cot was well past a hundred. So how long had King Turgon known and not told his brother?
Fingon swallowed thickly. "She was."
"What's his name?" She asked then, hoping to distract him from his loss.
"She named him Lómion, though he prefers his father-name, Maeglin." Fingon shared, gaze fixed upon the resting form of his nephew. There was something that troubled him, but Elarinya decided not to press.
Despite her general nosiness, she knew it wasn't any of her business.
"Child of twilight." She hummed, approving. "Poetic."
Fingon smiled, eyes sad. "She could be, if she cared. Twilight was her favorite time of the day to hunt, and thus I imagine that in her troubled last years on Arda she named her child after some of her dearest memories."
She decided not to ask, feeling it wouldn't be welcome. El was still an elfling, a child, in the eyes of just about every elf here, and there were just some topics you didn't speak about with a child. No matter how mature she appeared and how close she was to reaching the hundred.
"And Lord Maedhros?" Elarinya finally asked, hoping talking about his love would cheer the king up a bit.
She ignored the way Glorfindel's nose scrunched up, clearly uncomfortable with what he was hearing. Elves weren't bothered at all by same-sex relationships, but they were very focused on honor. And there was nothing as accursed as kinslaying.
And Maedhros Fëanorion was the most famous kinslayer of them all.
She turned her back on him, fully focusing on the dark-haired elf in front of her. (She missed the way Glorfindel's shoulder's slumped, disappointed.)
"Russo is Russo." Fingon smiled, eyes fond. "He's worrying about everyone and everything, though he really should be resting himself."
She glared at him, put out by his vagueness. El had been trying to bring those two together for weeks now, engineering moments and incidents alike whenever she had a spare moment.
"Alright, alright!" He grinned, the grief lining his eyes disappearing for a moment. "You have your father's glare, did you know?"
Elarinya glared harder.
"Alright!" Fingon laughed, wincing slightly as he pressed a hand to his sore ribs. Elarinya resisted the urge to hum a healing song, knowing Galion was keeping an eye on her as he worked on his own patient. "We talked. Russo and I talked, and have decided to start courting. Are you satisfied now, you stubborn little thing?"
"Excuse me." She huffed, faux-offended. "I'll have you know I'm eighty-eight years old. I'm basically ancient."
Fingon snorted, amused.
"And yes," She shot a sunny grin over her shoulder, finishing her check-up. "I'm very satisfied. Congratulations on your courtship, my lord."
Hopefully the pining around here would lessen now Fingon and Maedhros had admitted their feelings and entered a formal courtship.
Though she wasn't getting her hopes up.
They seemed like the sappy type.
A/N: Let me know your thoughts?