A Different Kind of Hell [ Silmarillion ] 3

Chapter 23: Of the Women and the Children

LAKE MITHRIM - THE YOUNGER HOUSES

When darkness had fallen over Valinor with only the torches of the Noldor to replicate the beauty of stars, Eve never imagined she would watch the sons of Curvo and Angaráto playing together on a field of green beneath a golden sun. And yet, as she sat with Nixiel and Eldalótë upon woven rugs with their fingers busy repairing torn cloaks, that was what she saw. She smiled. She could get used to this.

Noxious clouds of grey smoke still billowed from Thangorodrim almost daily, but occasionally the wind blew in their favor, and the sun beat down upon them. Nixiel had suggested they take advantage of such a day. As Eve watched Tyelpë chase after Artaresto, their mothers chatted together like old friends. Another wondrous friendship that she had never predicted.

Most of the House of Finwë, those born into it at least, still avoided one another when they could. The eldest trio defied this, with Finno, Findo, and Nelyo nearly never apart from one another. But the others stayed distant. Tyelko had returned to the wilds with Telvo at his heels. Curvo buried himself in his forges with the other weaponsmiths. 

Aiko and Ango—no, they called themselves Aegnor and Angrod now—worked as diplomats with the Falathrim. Their work took them away from home more often then not as they tried to maintain friendly ties with their estranged kinsmen. Sometimes, Eve wondered if taking the Sindarin forms of their names heralded more than just a desire to connect with the elves here in Beleriand. Did they purposely distance themselves from their Noldorin house?

Artanis walked that thin line as well. She stayed by Nolofinwë’s side when Findo acted the diplomat to the camp of the elder house. The king valued her wisdom. All did, really.

Well, most. Eve smirked to herself as she returned her focus on the needle and thread in her hands. Findekáno had torn his favorite cloak while training with Nelyo. He had others, but while the sun warmed her face she wanted to make the most of her time. 

“I could not believe the amount of mud that child could drag in from a single puddle.” Nixiel looked on the edge of laughing even as she scrubbed furiously at Tyelpë’s extra pair of boots. “Was yours as bad at this age?”

Eldalótë chuckled. “Worse, if you can believe it. During one of Yavanna’s festivals, Arto decided it would be fun to make mud castles. With so many feet kicking up the dirt during travel, he had ample supply.”

“Well, I am quite glad they have each other to stay occupied,” Nixiel said.

Eve was too. Arto has grown in stature, and stood twice the height of little Tyelpë. But this made the younger prince all the more excited to follow his cousin around. Even now, as Arto battled a few other children his age using wooden swords, Tyelpë clapped and cheered him on, bouncing on the heels of his feet in excitement.

The other two women continued their gossiping. Whenever the ladies of the royal houses got together they tried to keep topics light. Hurts still ran deep between all members of the House of Finwë, but even though the princes still quarreled, there was no reason their wives needed to. 

Of the grandchildren of Finwë, it was perhaps Iríssë who most embraced the new spirit of cooperation. She spent as much time at the Elder camp as she did her own. While Nelyo and Finno still argued off and on, she had all but abandoned any mistrust. Though if she was honest, Eve thought it less an act of forgiveness and more an act of boredom, or perhaps rebellion.

“It is an odd tongue,” Nixiel said. “But what do you think, Eve?”

She blinked away her daydreaming. “Sorry, what were you saying?”