Actions and Their Consquences

Upon The Nature Of A Promise

Elu Thingol, Lord of the Thousand Caves and King of Doriath, High King of the Sindar,

Greetings.

In answer to your request for a treaty, as apology for your daughter's actions, we have taken much care and thought. Here, with the greatest respect for your autonomy as King of another people, we put forwards these terms:

1) Neither Lúthien, Princess of Doriath, Lady of Ladros, nor her husband Beren, Lord of Ladros may enter at any time a realm of the Noldor.

2) N either Lúthien, Princess of Doriath, Lady of Ladros, nor her husband Beren Erchamion, Lord of Ladros may seek aid from any of the Noldor, nor invoke vows from said Noldor. They shall not attempt to contact them in any way. This is in recompense for their actions causing the death of Finrod Felagund the Beloved, Lord of Nargothrond.

3) The newborn Dior, Princess of Doriath, Heiress of Ladros, shall upon coming of age wed the Head of a Royal House of the Noldor in order to heal the rift between the Noldor and the Sindar. Maedhros the Tall, Lord of Himring, Head of the House of Fëanor is at this time the only unwed Head of a Royal house of the Noldor, and is thus the only candidate for such a match. At such time as the Houses of Fingolfin or Finarfin change their Head, the match will be reconsidered.

4) When Dior Bereniel, Princess of Doriath, Heiress of Tol-Galen weds the Head of a Royal House, the Silmaril won from Morgoth and owed to the seven Sons of Fëanor shall be relinquished into their keeping. Namely, Maedhros the Tall, Lord of Himring, Head of the House of Fëanor, Maglor the Minstrel, Lord of Lothlann, Celegorm the Fair, Lord of Himlad, Caranthir the Dark, Lord of Thargelion, Curufin the Crafty, Lord of Aglon and Amras the Hunter, Lord of Estolad.

5) In the coming alliance against Morgoth, Doriath shall send no less than four thousand warriors to march against Angband.

6) The ban upon the Noldorin language of Quenya shall be lifted.

These terms we hope you will find acceptable.

Fingon the Valiant, Lord of Hithlum, High King of the Noldor, Head of the House of Fingolfin

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Eighteen years later...

"Mablung, how far is there left to go?"

"Not far my Lady, half an hour's ride, no more. Are you in a condition to continue, or would you prefer to rest for a while?"

"We can continue Mablung. I am quite alright, and only not complaining over your mother-henning because I heard Daerada and Daernana ordering you to take care of me.

"Very well." Dior shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, but quickly stopped when her cousin Oropher opened his mouth to call to Mablung for a halt.

"Shut up Oropher!" He rolled his eyes but subsided, hissing at her that if she arrived at Himring and collapsed like a swooning maiden, it would be her own silly fault.

The small company rode in silence for a while, glad to have been allowed to hasten ahead of the main body of Sindar nobles so as to arrive first. Dior enjoyed journeying, her weak health notwithstanding, but this particular journey was rather taxing for her, and so she was being hastened to Himring to rest. Finally, it came into sight, a great city of the Noldor, tall and fair, surrounded with high smooth walls and great gates.

Thankfully, Mablung knew the way through the maze of streets, and led them to the courtyard of the castle itself. Upon the steps, waited her husband-to-be. She considered him carefully, having never seen him before.

Maedhros was very tall, taller than Daerada, with a cascade of wine-red curls pinned back carelessly. He too was beautiful, though fine white lines marred the perfect symmetry of his features. As they were doubtlessly meant to. Stern grey eyes stared at her appraisingly, and she was suddenly a little afraid. He was a warrior in every sense of the word, and he felt deadly. Moreso than Mablung and Beleg, who always had a joke or a smile for her. Her soon-to-be husband was not smiling.

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His bride-to-be was barely eighteen, but according to the cool missive he had recieved from Doriath, she was quite certainly of age. Looking at her now, he did not doubt. Dior Rîswen, the Crown-Princess of Doriath was indisputably a woman physically. The almost gaunt frame of one recovering from an illness did not hide her wide hips and full breast, more like to a human woman than an elleth. No more did the dark circles beneath her eyes and hollow cheeks conceal the proud beauty of her face, with wide grey eyes and features as beautiful as her mother's were said to have been. Her hair was dark gold, nearly brown, a rich warm colour, bound tightly to the back of her head in a series of intricate knots and twists and braids.

She dismounted and came towards him steadily, though leaning on the arm of a youth about her own age, seemingly unafraid. ''Lord Maedhros.'

'Lady Dior." He replied gravely, bowing. His wife-to-be bowed her head gracefully.

"Forgive my lack of courtesy my Lord, but I fear I would fall if I attempted to curtesy at the moment."

"Oh? You are not injured my Lady?"

She smiled bitterly and he was surprised to see one so young bearing an expression he associated with himself. "No. But being born of a body that was dead for a significant stretch of time has surprisingly negative effects upon the infant in question." Ah. That would explain a lot.

"In which case, I do not doubt that you would appreciate being shown to your own chambers to rest."

"Thank you my Lord. You are most kind." He offered his handless arm to her and she took it without even blinking. It puzzled him for a moment, most at least hesitated, but then he realised that her father would have also lost a hand, and so she would be used to an arm that ended so abruptly. A grateful smile was directed up at him, and he smiled back, mentally awarding a point to the girl he would wed tomorrow. Dior was brave and bold no doubt about that, and probably as stubborn as every other member of her family. She would fit right in with his brothers.

It crossed his mind that it might be a little awkward for her and Celegorm - after all, there was the little fiasco of Lúthien's false acceptance of his suit. Never mind, he did not doubt that it would all work out - there were some advantages to being the oldest of his brothers after all.