Nadya's fanfic: Hope Renewed Final chapter 2 Greetings

                                                                           Chapter 2
                                                                           Greetings?

This night the restful bliss of sleep refused to come.

Elves can sleep, if they so choose. However, we may also gain rest by gazing at objects of great beauty, or letting our minds wander in waking dreams. The latter of which I now do.

My mind goes now, centuries back, to before even the time in which the sun and the moon were made and the Maiar Arien and Tillion were sent to guard them. During the Time of the Two Trees, when Laurelin the Gold, provided gold light for the day and Telperion, Silver for the night.
This was my last memory of peace as a child, before the evil of Morgoth had unleashed itself upon
my people and my family.

The Day had been bright, as it always was upon Valinor, and now our horses' hooves had thundered
ahead of us. How I longed to ride! The restlessness of a child, the eager desire to be free and gallop
over horizons with my father. Yet this day was a day of Festival, and now, to save the fine garments in which my mother had forced upon me, I rode in the carriage beside her.

My mother, a princess of both the Teleri and the Noldor, was a creature of the most incomparable
beauty and grace, truly unparalleled. Olwe's grand-daughter had long been compared to the beauty of
Luthien, said to be the fairest of Illuvatar's children, but to those that knew her, including myself
her radiance had shone, bright enough that her memory burned with more radiance than that of Luthien, her kin, when I had finally met her, many years later, in the forest of Nan Elmoth upon Middle-Earth. Her delicate, small hands had folded neatly upon her lap, and her dark hair, rare among the Teleri, among which she was born, had cascaded that day, as if it were Ulmo's most magnificent
waterfall, waving gently, yet capturing Laurelin's light, making it appear brighter than ever imagined.
Her face was more delicate and more beautiful and perfect than those of our kind normally were, and
between long lashes her eyes were violet, a purple, more brighter and richer in colour and piercing than any gem.
She was at peace, whereas I was eager to ride, fighting such fire in my spirit, the fire I had inherited from my father's father, Feanaro, the High Prince, eldest of Finwe's offspring and the only child
of Miriel Serinde.

"Peace, Little One,' she murmured, her voice a high crystal-sweet music. We shall be there soon enough, and you shall dance for the greatest part of this night, until it is time for you to retire.
However, all of the Noldor shall be there and many eyes shall be upon you, so I must ask that you restrain yourself from joining the antics of the cousins and uncles you so love, and to restrain them if you can." Her voice was gentle, but firm. Now is for all of the Noldor.

I shall obey, as best I could. For I could never disobey her. Her eyes which shone and pierced brighter than Varda's stars could detect any unwillingness, any mischief that I do. So I shall obey,
for I wished not to be punished, and on such a great day.

As we passed into the walls of Tirion, the great city of the Noldor upon Valinor, people, dressed in their finest garments turned and cheered, chanting loudly my father's name, and my mother's.
The hooves of the horses thudded on the marble stones and swished through the sands of diamond-dust. I gazed out towards the houses and towers of great beauty, built of marble and placed amidst
courtyards and gardens of the fairest beauty. The domes and roofs of towers and houses were built of
pure gold and silver, and many of the buildings were inlaid with gems or had flowers, spilling from walls and rooftops, growing beneath windows, and lining crystal steps. The horses came to a halt
and now I heard my father dismount and our people roar with the greatest joy. A second roar ensued when my mother and I emerged from the carriage to join my father. Most splendid and in all ways
Magnificent and majestic, his red hair spilled from his head and was bound by a circlet of mithril.
My mother wore a similar, yet more delicate circlet studded with adamants, as did I, although I would
have preferred my hair loose. My wild curls had been tamed this day and I was gowned in the finest
silks and lace, which weighed to heavy for me to run, but strangely, not to spin and dance. My mother's foresight.

Together, we mounted the crystal stairs. Laurelin's light had bathed all of Tirion in a warm glow and
the stairs beneath looked as if it were made of many colours of light, and nothing solid beneath.
I was carried, by my father, and much as I loved him, I had preferred very much if I could walk.
Still, out of love for my father, I had allowed myself to be carried up the stairs and was only set down when we reached the gold doors of my grandfather's palace.

The doors swung open, and a herald announced us, we then entered a great hall with pillars of gold trees and ceiling covered with jewels of many colours. Finwe the King, stood at once clapping his
hands with great enthusiasm as the eldest of his grandchildren, emerged with his wife, the grandchild of Olwe, his friend. He had appeared delighted to see me and was eager to see how much I had grown. Beside him, gowned in blue, was Indis his queen. She was not my father's grandmother, but the second wife of Finwe. Miriel Serinde, Finwe's first wife had died not long after the birth of my grandfather, her son. She had been consumed and weary in both spirit and body, so to the gardens of Lorien had she gone and she had laid down, thus her spirit had departed in sleep. Grieving, Finwe had
called upon her to return, but from the halls of Mandos she had refused to be remade as many elves slain and faded upon Middle-Earth had chosen to do, to return to their loved ones. In his grief, Finwe had pleaded to the Valar, and, taking pity, they had allowed him to take a second wife. Indis of the Vanyar, golden-haired, whereas Miriel was silver, tall and meek, whereas Miriel was strong in spirit.
I learned, due to the listenings I had done as a child that my grandfather Feanaro had not held Indis, or her sons Nolofinwe and Arafinwe, in great regard, although it apeared he was more fond of Arafinwe, than expected. His half-sisters Findis and Irien Lalwende he had not minded at all, for they were sensible and had always adhered to his wishes, but always Nolofinwe and Indis had stabbed, like wounds, too close to the heart, although they had been so desperate and eager for his love and acceptance.

Nerdanel, my grandmother, copper-haired like my father and I had come forward to embrace us, as did my grandfather. My grandmother embraced three of us at once and kissed us warmly each. I loved her greatly, for few could have such kindness and gentleness in one person, yet be strong-willed enough to influence an elf as stubborn and proud as my grandfather. Feanaro had kissed both my father and mother, before lifting me high above, much to my delight, and kissing me as well.
I clung to him tightly. For too, I had loved him greatly. My grandfather had always enjoyed keeping me near and had taught me to read and write well, along with my father. No child could have had a better tutor as my grandfather had been the one to invent our script, the Tengwar.

My grandmother had a complexion like cream, but was done on skin so translucent that, most times, it looked reddened, almost as her hair had been. Although the faces and forms of elves had always
seemed fair to the eyes of men, my grandmother had not been praised by the Eldar, for her beauty.
Instead it was her work as a sculptress that had gained her note, for she made statues, so akin to their
subjects it had appeared real. her eyes, set wide, were green and clear, her nose small
with a wide mouth and generous lips upon an oval face, she had little of my father in her except for
her hair, whereas, my grandfather, Feanaro, burned as a silver flame and scion of Telperion,
with hair of midnight black, and eyes, such as those I had; blue, almost black with a burning silver
flame shining through the dark, brighter than any star. He smiled, yet his smile hardened as Finwe
came forth with Indis following behind. My uncles, of which I had six, came forward to greet us.
Canafinwe Macalaure, whom the Sindar would call Maglor the Mighty Singer for his powerful
voice and talent, was closest to my father, in age and in heart. Turkafinwe Tyelcormo, called Celegorm the Fair, golden-haired, as a Vanya, was a woodsman and hunter who could speak the language of beasts. From him I had
gleaned a little of the knowledge, which grew as I did. Morifinwe Carnistir, was as dark as Tyelcormo was fair. In later days he would be known as Caranthir, the Dark one for his hair and red complexion, as well as his harsh temper. I feared making him angry but he was always gentle with me. Curufinwe Atarinke, was my grandfather's son in face and skill. They would call him Crafty for such a skill, and remember him, not only for having such a father, but also a son who would forge the Rings of Power, but as then I had no knowledge of what the future would bring.

They came forward and embraced us all, and my father laughed to be reunited with such family.
His twin brothers, came forward. They were called Ambarussa both, but the elder was called
Nityafinwe, whereas the younger was Telufinwe. They were children still, with my father's red hair, eager to teach me new tricks and arts of mischief. But not today. Other relations came and embraced us, including Findekano, my father's cousin and closest friend. Son of my grandfather's half-brother,
Nolofinwe, he would later be known as Fingon, The Valiant. Great love existed between my father and his cousin so they had embraced warmly. In the meanwhile Indis had lifted me and embraced me after Finwe. I then saw my grandfather's face tighten, as if he wished to snatch me away, but he both said and did nothing. His anger I knew the cause of, for he still found it difficult to accept that his mother was gone and replaced. Indis, my grandfather felt should not have married Finwe, and this too was felt by many, who found it abominable that an Elda should take a second spouse, but Manwe's word was heard, and my grandfather, I later knew, had resented the Valar for such an act.

Such anger was a shadow on so bright a day, yet it was a small one, and barely noticeable. So far he had said nothing. Nor had he gone to blows with words against Nolofinwe, his half-brother, so all could be forgiven and we could feast and dance, as was intended.

I was handed back to my father, while many of the court had gasped and admired my mother's beauty and grace. Unparalleled as she was, her skin glowed silver, brighter than any star, her hair shone capturing and reflecting brightest light, but was darker than midnight. Her face held more beauty and perfection than any elf, and her eyes were unmatched, in colour, richness and radiance. I could hear murmurs, and sighs of admiration, and knew many lamented that my father had been the one to win her heart, not one of them.

When all had embraced us, greeted us with kisses and smiles, my grandmother, murmured,
"Maitimo", with great love and fondness, for he was her firstborn, and always, a first child is  memorable, despite having equal portions of love for all one's offspring. She had lifted me close, and
hugged me to her. This day was the last happy gathering we would all share together. How I had wished that such a day had not ended!

After Finwe had greeted my parents and crushed me into a glorious embrace, I was finally set down.
Nityafinwe and Telufinwe smiled at me, crooked smiles and hair like my father's being their most
dominant traits. Itarille smiled happily to see me. She was Nolofinwe's grand-daughter, child of Turukano, his second son. Golden-haired, she had inherited the brilliance of her Vanyarin mother Elenwe and her sweet nature. Secretly I had wished to have such a nature, but such a spirit grew within me that could not be suppressed, that urged me to steal sweets with my uncles the Ambarussa, to dump flour onto passerbys from high towers or storeys, and such similar antics.

After the court had welcomed us, we were ushered into a great hall built of fine glass. I pleaded to go with Itarille, which I was allowed, as she was not likely to lead me astray. So we had ran weaving through the crowds and passing gold tables and the gilded blossoms decorating the walls.
Suddenly I had stopped. "What is is?" Itarille whispered.

A discussion was being made. And not one of goodwill.


   
The Undying Lands                                       In a wandering         Tirion City of the Noldor.
                                                                       or waking dream