Return to the North [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Summonings

Two redheaded women trotted up the path to Minas Tirith atop beautiful brown horses. Clothed in greens and browns with matching yew bows on their backs, they looked identical. Their fair young faces were covered in matching confused expressions.

"And Father and Mother said nothing but to come back upon the King's summons?" one asked the other.

The woman on the left shook her head. "I showed you the letter. You read it yourself."

"It's just so odd," murmured the first.

As they crossed over the threshold of the gates, they were met by a man with dark hair and grey eyes. He nodded to them and smiled a tight smile.

"Hail, friends! Fëalas, Círeth, my father waits for us in the citadel along with the others."

"How have things been here, Eldarion?" The first, Fëalas, asked.

He shrugged. "Well enough. Aderthon and I have been training new recruits for the Guard as of late."

Círeth smiled. "I'd like to see our brother fight you someday, Eldarion. That would be quite a match!"

"I'd be more afraid of fighting Finduilas," laughed the Prince.

Finduilas was a companion of Círeth and Fëalas, a member of the Southern Dunedain. She was the daughter of Eowyn and Faramir and a fierce shieldmaiden. The twins had left her in charge when they had been called home to Minas Tirith.

"Is Uncle here as well?" Fëalas asked Eldarion as they made their way up into the citadel.

"Ask him yourself."

The twin young women grinned widely as they caught sight of Elladan. Fëalas ran forward and tackled him in a hug. She may have been thirty years old, but she loved her uncle dearly. All the children did.

There were many of them. Miril and Elrohir had four. Aderthon was their only son, but they had three daughters. There were the twins, Círeth and Fëalas, and the youngest, Tinneth. Aragorn and Arwen had one son also, Prince Eldarion. But two daughters they had as well: Amdirien and Estelwen. Faramir and Eowyn had two sons named Elboron and Barahir, as well as Finduilas their daughter. Eomer and Lothiriel had a daughter, Edeva, and a son, Elfwine. All the children were good friends.

"Welcome home," Elladan laughed as Círeth hugged him also. "Your mother and father are with the King and Queen. Follow me."

The friends followed their uncle deeper into the citadel and to the right into a side room where meetings were held. There they found two citadel guards waiting outside the door. They opened it up when they saw the royalty coming towards them.

Aragorn, Arwen, Miril, Elrohir, Amdirien, Aderthon, and Estelwen were all inside already. When Círeth and Fëalas followed Eldarion and Elladan inside, they looked in concern at the faces of their parents and the King and Queen.

"You summoned us, sir?" Círeth asked.

Aragorn nodded. "Sit."

Everyone took their seats. Aderthon came and sat beside his sister Círeth. Fëalas sat between her and their mother. Míril took Fëalas' hand and squeezed it with a small, strained smile.

"What's going on?" Círeth asked in concern, glancing sidelong at the stressed looks of the older adults. "Where is Tinneth? Surely she was summoned home as well if we all were?"

"Tinneth is the reason you are here," Aragorn sighed.

"What has she done now?" Círeth rolled her eyes.

"Cír," Elrohir warned. "Quiet."

Círeth shrunk beneath her father's quiet admonition. Aragorn continued softly.

"There was an assault on a company of Dunedain north of Lake Evendim." He paused. "Círeth was among them."

"Is she alright?" Aderthon demanded immediately. "Where is she? What attacked them?"

Aragorn held up his hand. "All we know is this. A small surviving and roving band of wargs and orcs attacked them. We don't know why or how many. Several rangers were killed. Tinneth is still unaccounted for."

"How long ago did it happen?" asked Eldarion.

Míril responded. "We received the news three days ago. It took almost two months to get here. We do not know if she's been found yet of course."

"So what are we going to do," Eldarion insisted. "We must do something."

"We will wait a few days to see if more news comes," Aragorn told them with a sigh. "If nothing good follows, then we will reevaluate. Until that time, I want all of you to remain in the city."

Aragorn dismissed the group. He left with Arwen and his children and Elladan, leaving the House of Fëanoriel in the room.

"It is good to have you two back home," Míril smiled at her twin daughters. "I've missed you."

"We missed you as well," Fëalas nodded. "And you too, Father."

Elrohir laughed. "No need to say anything just to make me feel better."

"I mean it!" she giggled.

"Come," Míril laughed, grabbing her daughter in a hug. "Let's go home."

The two parents, son, and daughters left the throne room and traveled down the city street to one level below the citadel. Míril and Elrohir had kept the same house they had raised their children in for 35 years. As the family made their way inside, Fëalas stopped and sniffed with her eyes closed.

"Still smells like athelas and niphredil." She grinned. "Wonderful as always."

Míril laughed. "Glad you still enjoy it, Fëalas."

The woman smiled. She looked young, about 20 to normal eyes. But those who knew her understood her elven blood kept her youthful. Her long red hair, the color of autumn, went down her back in an intricate braid.

The fact that Miril and Elrohir's children had such different hair colors was said to be due to their uniquely diverse ancestry. They had Noldorin blood, including a line of red haired elves like Nerdanel, Maedhros, and the twins Amrod and Amras. They had Telerin blood, and therefore silver haired ancestors, like Celeborn, Celebrian, and Thingol. And finally they had dark haired Noldorin blood like Fëanor and Caranthir. Not to mention their Vanyarin ancestry, though none of that rare golden hair had manifested in the House of Fëanoriel so far.

"Do you think Tinneth will be alright?" Aderthon asked quietly later that night.

It was just Míril, Elrohir, and he in the main living room of their house. The twins had gone to bed hours ago after their long day of riding, but the others were not tired yet. Or if they were, they chose not to embrace it.

Míril sighed. "I do not know, Aderthon. I hope she is."

Elrohir smiled. "She will be. I dare say she's even more fierce and feisty than her mother, and that's saying something!"

Míril smirked. "She is, isn't she."

Aderthon let his eyes rest upon the lyre above their fireplace. The crackle of the fire sounded almost like music.

"Mother, why do you not play that anymore?" He asked her quietly. "Not since Tinneth left."

Míril and Elrohir frowned. Elrohir looked about to respond but Míril halted him.

"I told you the story many times as a child of how I got that lyre." Míril sighed. "I told you of your Uncle Maglor, of how he sacrificed himself to save us all."

"Indeed," Aderthon agreed.

Míril nodded slowly. "I suppose I felt I failed him after Tinneth left us. We know she left because she was deeply angry with us."

"it was not only you," Aderthon said with a forlorn sigh. "She was angry with everyone."