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Chapter Text

506 of the First Age – The Havens of Sirion

         All of the Havens was a bustle with the arrival of all of the refugees from Doriath. Apparently the Fëanorians had come and sacked it after the flight of Melian, killing Dior and Nimloth, and attempting to murder Elwing and the two young princes as well. Meleth tried to walk around help, but it made it twice as hard to have to explain to everyone that she was not a Fëanorian despite her looks. Idril must have seen her struggling, because she came up to her and asked if she wanted to take a break.

         “There are some people I think you should meet.” Idril said to Meleth, “Nobles from King Dior’s court. There are multiple peredhil among them.”

         “How lovely. It will be nice to have other peredhil around.”

         “It will indeed. It will be nice for Eärendil I think, to see you and him are not the only peredhil around.”

         “I certainly agree.”

         They walked up the pathway to the hall where Idril held her court. It was paved with hewn stone fitted together in the fashion of the courtyard of Gondolin, although it was not with the same type of white marble that their city had been made of. It was a fine building, considering their circumstances, made with timber from Nimbrethil. There were carvings and reliefs along the walls and columns of elves and humans surviving together. A flag with Idril’s sigil was hung along the top, with Tuor, Meleth, Galdor, and Egalmoth’s sigils hung on flags below it. Inside the building, there were many people- none of whom Meleth recognized, but some who she could make good guesses about.

         A young peredhel girl being attended by multiple nobles was one such person. She was no older than three or four, and had brown skin and black hair that sparkled as if with starlight. Her eyes were grey and deep, filled to the brim with as many stars as the night sky. She could be none other than Princess Elwing, King Dior’s daughter. Idril introduced her as such.

         “Tuor and I are adopting her, and her brothers, if they can be found.” Idril continued, “If anyone living knows how to raise a peredhel, it would be us.”

         Of the nobles attending to her, there was an elven lord with tan skin and silver hair, who wore a forest green robe embellished with tree embroidery. Next to him was an elven woman with olive skin and brown hair. She held a small boy against her hips who had her coloring. Idril introduced them.

         “This is Lord Oropher, his wife, Lady Celeblassil, who is also the sister of Queen Nimloth, and their son Thranduil.”

         Oropher bowed, and Celeblassil curtsied as much as she could holding her child.

         “A pleasure to meet you,” Meleth curtsied at both of them as Idril introduced her.

         “And this is Lady Meleth, my dear cousin who is only Fëanorian by blood and was raised in Brethil by my Aunt Aredhel and Lady Haleth of the Haladin.”

         “Good to meet you,” Oropher said.

         “Glad to make your acquaintance,” Celeblassil told her, “The Haladin are good warriors and fine people.”

         “Thank you,” Meleth responded.

         “My cousin here is the best fighter of the Gondolindrim,” Idril bragged.

         “You know I would disagree with that,” Meleth pulled playfully on Idril’s sleeve.

         “But I will say it anyway,” Idril smiled at her.

         With that, they moved onto the next person.

         “Lady Niënor of the House of Hador, and her son, Mabelen,” Idril introduced her.

         Niënor was a tall, human woman with golden hair braided in an elvish fashion that Meleth had seen Galadriel wear before. She wore an elaborate Doriathrin robe of deep red wool with silver embroidery along the hems and cuffs. Her son was young. He could be no older than seven or maybe eight, with brown skin, raven black hair, and peredhel ears that pointed slightly out from his hair. He clung to the side of his mother’s robe with his small hands.

         “Glad to meet you, Lady Niënor.”

         “The pleasure is all ours.” Niënor curtsied to her, then turning to Idril, “We thank you very much for the opportunity of a fresh start here in the Havens.”

         “Of course. I would do nothing less for my husband’s kin,” Idril replied.

         “My mother and husband have come as well, but she was too exhausted from the journey and needed rest. My husband went with her to help.”

         “That is no problem at all- I know how elderly she is.”

         Next, Idril turned to an elven woman standing next to Niënor. She had tan skin, and a golden circlet on a shimmering blonde head of hair, braided in a fashion somewhat similar to the Haladin. The dress she wore was highly embroidered blue satin, with lace peeking out from under her sleeves and along the neckline.

         “This is Princess Finduilas of Nargothrond, one of our Arafinwëan relations.” Idril said, turning to Meleth, and introducing her the same way she introduced Meleth to the others.

         “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Princess.” Meleth curtsied towards her.

         “The same to you, Lady Meleth,” Finduilas curtsied in return. “You grew up in Brethil? I lived there for a short time with my husband. It was a lovely forest and the people were very welcoming to us.”

         “Yes, the people are very kind,” Meleth was about to ask about the husband Finduilas mentioned, when Idril broke in with another question.

         “Speaking of family, Finduilas, where is your daughter?”

         Finduilas’s eyes went wide and she looked around quickly, before placing a hand on her face and exhaling deeply.

         “She ran away again,” Finduilas sighed, “She always does that when she is upset. And she has been very upset since we left Doriath.”

         “Oh dear, and after we told her not to! She is too headstrong,” Niënor said, “Do not let Mama know. She will go into a fit and try to find her, and she shouldn’t do that at her age. Especially after all the commotion of the past few days.”

         “Very true. We must find Radariel before she finds out.” Finduilas added.

         “I can help,” Meleth offered her hand, “What does she look like?”

Chapter Text

          Meleth found the little girl curled up in an alcove. Her small head was resting on her knees, her dark hair once done in an intricate braid, now spilled over her knees in controlled chaos. She was hugging her knees tight to her chest, the sides of her mouth turned down in the midst of some unhappy thought. She raised her head slightly when she saw Meleth, and her eyes widened in horror.

          “I’m not a Fëanorian,” Meleth said, knowing the girl was probably scared by her Fëanorian looks, “I was raised by Lady Aredhel.”

          “Your father was a human?” the girl’s frightened look was gone, and was suddenly interested.

          “No, my mother was a human. My father was an elf. But he did not raise me- Lady Aredhel adopted me when she married my mother.”

          What little enthusiasm the girl had died at Meleth’s answer. Her head fell back to her knees and she looked away and stared solemnly in the distance.

          “So you’re a peredhel, too?” Meleth tried to reignite the conversation.

          “Yes,” the girl responded. She did not even look up at Meleth as she answered.

          “What’s your name?” Meleth tried again.

          “Radariel. Yours?”

          “Mae govannen, Radariel. My name is Meleth.” Meleth curtsied towards the girl. She was about to ask about Radariel’s father when she felt Idril’s voice pour gently into her mind.

          Have any luck, cousin? Idril asked.

          Yes, I found her. Meleth thought back. In an alcove near the smithy on the Southern side.

          Good. I will let Finduilas know at once. Idril’s presence drained out of her mind after the quick response.

          Not long after, a Doriathrin elf with brown skin and black hair walked around the corner to them. He wore metal armor emblazoned with Dior’s sigil and had a sword at his side.

          “There you are, i mhell nín,” He said warmly, “We have been looking all over for you.”

          “Uncle Mablung!” Radariel said. She got up onto her feet to greet him.

          “Your mother was very worried.”

          “I’m sorry, uncle. I didn’t mean to make her worry, I just didn’t want to…” her voice trailed off and she paused, looking off into the distance again.

          “Want to what?” He kindly prodded for a response. She looked back at him for a moment and then down at the ground.

          “I didn’t want to cause any more trouble. Hurt anyone. I thought it was my fault Doriath fell… because… you know.”

          “That was no fault of yours, i mhell nín,” Mablung walked over to her and kneeled down, rubbing her shoulder, “That was the fault of the Fëanorians. You had no part in it.”

          “Okay, if you say so,” she replied, but she did not sound convinced.

          Then he turned to Meleth.

          “Thank you very much, Lady Meleth, for finding her, it was very much appreciated.” He told her.

          “It was no problem at all,” Meleth said, “I was glad to help. I know what it feels like to be the new person in town. How did you know I had found her?”

          “My wife Niënor told me. Said Finduilas told her through ósanwe.”

          “That makes sense.”

          He turned back to Radariel.

          “Now let’s get you home before your Anneth finds out you left.”

          “Yes, uncle.”

---

          Meleth and Mablung brought Radariel back to the group, and Finduilas’s face lit up to see her daughter safe again. Morwen was also glad to see Radariel. She took her on her knee and kissed her forehead. Not long after, another peredhel arrived in the havens. She had dark, curly hair and wore a green cloak with the sigil of Finarfin as a clasp. She was carrying one child, and the other was holding onto her cloak. She placed the one child on the ground. There was a great celebration. Elwing ran forth and hugged them.

          “Thank Varda, I knew you could do it!” Finduilas ran up to her and embraced her tightly.

          “Of course, dear cousin, of course.”

          Morwen walked up to them.

          “Aelind, this is my mother-in-law, Morwen Eledhwen,” Finduilas said, turning to Morwen. “This is my cousin Aelind, my uncle Aegnor’s daughter. We lived together at Rivil’s Well for a while.”

          “Thank you, dear, we are already acquainted,” Morwen said.

          “Morwen, Lord Baragund’s daughter?” Aelind asked.

          “The very same,” Morwen nodded.

          “Dear cousin, it’s so great to see you again!” Aelind was filled with delight and her face lit up with joy. “You were such a cute little thing, always running around outside, stealing berries from the garden. And look at you now! So lovely, and a grandmother as well!”

          “Thank you,” Morwen said.

          “You never told me you knew my cousin, Finduilas!” Aelind joked with her. “How did you meet?”

          “She came to us one day from Brethil, heavily pregnant and grief stricken, but resolute,” Niënor supplied.

          “My husband had just died, and of course this was after the Fall of Nargothrond…” Finduilas paused for a second in her telling before continuing, “But I was determined to live for my daughter.”

          “We took her in, of course, we could do nothing less,” was Morwen’s statement, plain and matter-of-fact. “Niënor knew her and knew she had good character.”

          “And my husband, Mablung, gave his blessing for her to marry me as well,” Niënor smiled as she turned her eyes towards Finduilas.

          “How did you meet your husband, Niënor?” Aelind asked.

          “Well, I had gone with Mama, Mablung, and some others to find my brother, who had run away from Doriath. I was separated from the group, and… well, when I returned to Doriath, I found Mablung had been searching high and low for me.” Niënor beamed, “He visited me every day at the Healing Houses and we fell in love.”  

          “How lovely.” Aelind’s heart warmed at this.

          “Queen Melian told him to always put his family first, and that is what he has always done. When we heard the dwarves were coming, I told him Finduilas and I could hide the house with our magic, and he could go protect the treasury. But he was set on staying to protect us, because of what Queen Melian had told him.”

          “He sounds like a wonderful husband.” 

          “He is.”

          “And what of your brother?” Aelind asked, she was going to continue with, “Did you find him?” but she saw Morwen’s expression grow sorrowful and Finduilas’s eyes went wide for a moment.

          “Oh, he died.” Niënor spoke as if she was explaining the weather or some other mundane, everyday thing, instead of what must have been a tragic loss. “The Haladin found his body covered in blood next to Glaurung’s severed head. His husband, Beleg Cúthalion, was holding him and died shortly after of grief.”

          “But that is enough of that,” Morwen interrupted, “There are children present. Aelind, catch us up on your life? How are you and your surviving brother faring?”

          “Nengelion? Yes, he is still with my aunt and uncle,” Aelind said, “We are living with the Nandor, the people of my Uncle Celeborn’s mother, on the other side of the Misty Mountains. Nen will be very excited to hear I ran into you all.”

          “He was such a dear boy. How long will you be staying?” Finduilas asked.

          “Not very long. I must be going soon, since my job here is done.” Aelind gestured towards Eluréd and Elurín, who were now playing with Elwing.

          “Well, you must give your brother our love when you return,” Morwen patted her shoulder.

          “I most definitely will.”

Chapter Text

506 of the First Age – The Havens of Sirion

         The celebration for the return of Eluréd and Elurín was immense. There was no fine wine or honeyed bread, but the people made up for it with their high spirits. The melodious sound of elven singing filled the air, along with the rhythmic sound of human feet as they danced along the wooden floors.

         “So, how did you two meet?” Finduilas asked Idril, “I thought Gondolin was closed off to everyone but the Gondolindrim?”

         “Long story short, Tuor was chosen by Ulmo to be his messenger to my father, and this is why he was let into Gondolin,” Idril said, “We met in Atar’s court, as he was a special guest.”

         “A lovely story,” Finduilas said.

         “That is not dissimilar to how Mablung and I met,” Niënor said, “My mother and I were special guests of King Thingol. However, Mablung and I never interacted before our minor catastrophe.”

         “Minor catastrophe?” Idril said, “How intriguing. Would you mind explaining further?”

         “Not at all. Mama had gone with a few elves, Mablung included, to find my brother. I had snuck in, disguised, but they found me out and left me. Then who should come up to me, but Glaurung the dragon! I closed my mind from ósanwe at once, just like Queen Melian had taught me, and shot him in the eye with my bow. Beleg Cúthalion had taught me archery, of course. Glaurung started wailing and blowing out fire, so I jumped into the Teiglin. I broke my arm and hurt my leg, unfortunately, but I managed to get onto dry land somewhere downstream and scramble under some brambles for cover. And who should find me, but my own brother! It was strangely lucky.”

         “May I tell the next part of it?” Mablung asked.

         “Go ahead,” Niënor said.

         “Meanwhile,” Mablung said, “We get back to the hill where we left her, and she is gone. The place is scorched, too, it was a whole mess. So, we go around like crazy looking for her- and no one can find her anywhere. We thought she was dead for sure. But then we get word from Brethil a few days later that she was found, and that Beleg should come to Ephel Brandir to find her. Now, this was very odd. Queen Melian told him he would like the journey, though, so he obliged. Kind Beleg, heeds more to his heart than to his wisdom, but luckily he listened to Queen Melian. You know he almost went to rescue Túrin from Morgoth with Eöl’s cursed sword Anglachel? That could’ve been bad. Luckily, Queen Melian was able to talk him out of it… anyway, we receive word later that Beleg is staying in Brethil.”

         “Beleg was so flustered to see Túrin again,” Finduilas said, “It grew awkward very quickly when he found out Túrin and I were married, but I told Beleg we could share.”

         “And when you came to us in Doriath after… you know… it was so bittersweet.” Niënor said, “I was sad to hear of my brother and Beleg’s passing, but you and Radariel brought us so much joy.”

         “She is a dear. Quite a handful, too.” Finduilas smiled. “Looks like she is getting along with Lady Meleth, though. How wonderful.”

---

         As Meleth was taking a break from dancing, and went to get some juice for herself, she noticed Radariel sitting off to the side with a morose look on her face.

         “Radariel, is something wrong?” Meleth asked.

         Radariel made no response. Meleth followed Radariel’s line of sight and saw that she was watching as Elwing and her brothers danced together.

         “Would you like to dance with them? I am sure they would not mind if you asked.” Meleth tried again.

         “No.” Radariel said, looking away from the siblings dancing. She sighed and buried her head in her knees for a moment. When Meleth did not leave, she looked up at her, and then looked away again.

         “I… I’m afraid they’ll be hurt because of me.” Radariel’s voice was sullen. “Because of what Ada did.”

         “What did your Ada do?” Meleth could not help but asking, the words fell out of her mouth before she knew it.

         Radariel looked at her again, and her dark eyes were somehow even more filled with sorrow.