A Different Kind of Hell [ Silmarillion ] 3

Chapter 17: The Choice

Year 4 of the First Age
Summer

LAKE MITHRIM

Six sets of horse hooves pounded upon the solid ground around Lake Mithram. Finno almost couldn't hear his own thoughts as they made for the neutral site between camps that Kánafinwë had requested they journey to.

The large tent, whose open flaps for doors faced the sparkling waters, had been Eve's idea. His father hadn't agreed immediately. But it became clearer as time passed that some sort of meeting place would be necessary. No one wanted to feast or mingle with the followers of Fëanáro. But they were still strangers in this land, even as the years passed. Divided they would surely be defeated.

So Eve suggested they start with one tent. One shared meeting place. He looked up from his brown stallion as they approached it. Women from both camps had sewn tapestries. Eve's contribution was a sigil of the House of Finwë, hanging where the door flaps joined together at the top.

Three horses already stood near a red banner on the far side. They slowed. Finno glanced over at Eve as he slid from his steed. This marked the first time she had been willing to meet with her adopted brothers since she'd left their camp. He could see the anxiety on her face, still beautiful in the golden rays of the sun despite the fear. She wiped a few red strands of her hair behind her ear.

Finno turned around. Lámino, Voronwa, and Raumolírë dismounted as one unit. "Stay out here. Lámino, you take up position at the door."

With a small gesture, he pointed to where one of Kánafinwë's own guard captains stood beside the entrance, and the other with their own horses. They would mirror the others for now. 

Eve walked over to him, an uncertain attempt at a smile on her face. "Ready?"

"No." Finno shuffled his feet, forcing away echoes of Itarillë's terrified screams as he clutched her to his freezing chest. "But that does not matter. We are here, aren't we?" He also tried to smile.

Eve gave a light laugh, grabbing his hand and placing it on her cheek. For a moment, he could feel the warmth of the sun spread through him from her embrace. Finno stopped breathing.

"You really are terrible at trying to smile when you don't want to," she whispered, leaning in so only he could hear. "Though I doubt I'm much better."

Finno grinned. He lowered his head so he was but inches from her ear. "You would be correct. But it is cool."

She squeezed his hand and shook her head with a real smile that reached all the way to her eyes. Finno took a deep breath. He focused on his wife. She was good.

Finno led the way. There was no age in which he would ask Eve to be the first inside, the first to face Kánafinwë. The Fëanorian captain did not spare a glance as he passed inside. 

Kánafinwë wore black. The sunlight that streamed in through the open flaps did little to illuminate him where he stood, arms across his chest, staring down at the central table. It took all Finno's poise not to pause in the doorway, remembering hurled accusations upon his reunion with Eve. Where had Káno been, when he'd watched the life leave his little brother's eyes upon this new land? Where had Finno, or Nolofonwë, been when Finwë had stood alone defending the beauty Fëanáro had created?

When he met Kánafinwë's piercing gaze, he heard his half-cousin's voice in his head. "Hello, Findekáno."

The sounds of unsheathing blades stopped either from continuing. Finno spun around. Hyamindo, an unfailingly faithful protector of Eve, stood with his arm in front of her, blade out. Though she protested the action, he didn't flinch. Kánafinwë's captain also had his sword out, blocking entrance.