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''Mithril armour!'' Barahir exclaimed ''That must be worth a king's ransom. How much would such a thing cost?''
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RP 🎲 Of the Dagor Bragollach
- Thread starter Maedhros_Nelyafinwë
- Start date
🎲 Role Playing Game
Jorlan Elükar
Lord of Thargelion, Son of Fëanor and Nerdanel
- Joined
- Sep 1, 2020
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- 127
Fingon_Findekáno
Loyal Best Friend
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Feeling Maedhros put his hand upon his shoulder, Fingon reached over and laid his hand on top, giving him a smile back. His heart warmed at Maedhros’ words. He was right- who knows what relations might be like today if the feud had not been resolved back then? The other Sons of Fëanor certainly hadn’t been too interested in doing anything about it, and after being deserted in Araman, Fingolfin’s host wasn’t too keen on making amends either. It was his boldness in rescuing their brother and bringing him home that finally assuaged the tensions that lied between them, and because of that, Beleriand and its realms were all the better for it.
His gaze fell downwards, and he glanced in the direction of Maedhros’ right arm for a moment before bringing it back up to his face. They had certainly come far together since those events hundreds of years ago, and it made him glad that Maedhros had been able to regain some semblance of normalcy, and in some ways had even surpassed his old self. That’s not to say everything was always okay, for he knew Maedhros better than that, and indeed his outlook on life had changed a bit. That was understandable, though, with what he had gone through. Regardless, Fingon knew that he would stand with Maedhros, no matter what came their way.
As Aredhel spoke, Fingon nodded approvingly, agreeing wholeheartedly with what she said. He loved how caring and passionate his sister was, never one to back down, and quick to always jump in and help. It had grieved him when Turgon sent word saying that she had gotten lost in the wilderness, and then she was missing for many years before suddenly showing up again. He was just glad to have her back, now.
Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Fingon quickly jumped back in surprise when Finrod suddenly and unexpectedly threw himself at his feet, pouring forth more fervent praises for his deeds. He felt a little awkward being the focus of such an extravagant gesture, especially in the middle of this meeting, surrounded by others. He had earned much acclamation over the last few hundred years for what he had done, both with Thangorodrim and from his role in the aftermath of the Dagor Aglareb, but Finrod’s enthusiasm over this was more than he was used to.
To many who had heard the tale, they were often awestruck by the valor of it, of how he braved entering Morgoth’s territory alone to rescue Maedhros, who had been considered as good as dead, basically. And what’s more, because Maedhros was technically High King of the Noldor back then, he had brought their king home and brought peace between the two Houses of Fëanor and Fingolfin. On a surface level, he could understand how the story fascinated so many.
However, if anyone ever truly knew the full extent of what had happened, like he and Maedhros and a precious few did, they might not be quite as excited about it. Despite all the many positive implications his actions had in saving Maedhros, the tale itself was dark, gruesome, and filled with despair. He alone perhaps knew better than anyone what sorts of torturous and agonizing things Maedhros had endured there for so many years, as he had told him some of it in confidence long ago. He had seen the results of it first hand, finding Maedhros in the condition that he did. And on top of that, he had had to cut Maedhros’ hand off just to free him. It was not a pleasant story, and so it was better to just let others think what they wanted about the parts that they did hear.
Ultimately, then, he could not fault Finrod for his admiration, even if it was a little over the top. His cousin had always looked up to him and Maedhros when they were all younger back in Valinor, even though he usually chose to spend time with Turgon instead, being closer in age. And since he had apparently not heard the story before, the newness of it undoubtedly made it sound grander to him, even in all its solemnity.
Fingon knelt down in front of his cousin. “Finrod,” he spoke gently, with a sympathetic look in his eyes. “Your words are very kind, and I thank you for them. It gladdens my heart that you think so highly of me. However, this really isn’t necessary. You do not need to bow to me for what I did. I am still the same Findekano you’ve always known.” He paused. “Come here.” With that, Fingon took Finrod’s hands into his own and helped him stand up. He gave him a smile. “You have a heart of gold yourself, Finrod, and your kindness is much to be admired. I am glad to have a cousin as faithful as you are. Indeed, what’s more, you are a king over your own realm, which you built yourself, with a people who love and follow you, and you are well-known to be a friend of Men and Dwarves as well!” As he said this, he swept his arm as a gesture towards Barahir, Telchar, and Firnen standing off to the side in their own conversation. “What goodness do you not withhold from others? You are great among the Eldar for your deeds as well, and may you be rewarded for such.”
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Finrod in an embrace. When he stepped back, he left his hands to rest upon Finrod’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Now, I wish to hear more of you. How fares Nargothrond?”
His gaze fell downwards, and he glanced in the direction of Maedhros’ right arm for a moment before bringing it back up to his face. They had certainly come far together since those events hundreds of years ago, and it made him glad that Maedhros had been able to regain some semblance of normalcy, and in some ways had even surpassed his old self. That’s not to say everything was always okay, for he knew Maedhros better than that, and indeed his outlook on life had changed a bit. That was understandable, though, with what he had gone through. Regardless, Fingon knew that he would stand with Maedhros, no matter what came their way.
As Aredhel spoke, Fingon nodded approvingly, agreeing wholeheartedly with what she said. He loved how caring and passionate his sister was, never one to back down, and quick to always jump in and help. It had grieved him when Turgon sent word saying that she had gotten lost in the wilderness, and then she was missing for many years before suddenly showing up again. He was just glad to have her back, now.
Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Fingon quickly jumped back in surprise when Finrod suddenly and unexpectedly threw himself at his feet, pouring forth more fervent praises for his deeds. He felt a little awkward being the focus of such an extravagant gesture, especially in the middle of this meeting, surrounded by others. He had earned much acclamation over the last few hundred years for what he had done, both with Thangorodrim and from his role in the aftermath of the Dagor Aglareb, but Finrod’s enthusiasm over this was more than he was used to.
To many who had heard the tale, they were often awestruck by the valor of it, of how he braved entering Morgoth’s territory alone to rescue Maedhros, who had been considered as good as dead, basically. And what’s more, because Maedhros was technically High King of the Noldor back then, he had brought their king home and brought peace between the two Houses of Fëanor and Fingolfin. On a surface level, he could understand how the story fascinated so many.
However, if anyone ever truly knew the full extent of what had happened, like he and Maedhros and a precious few did, they might not be quite as excited about it. Despite all the many positive implications his actions had in saving Maedhros, the tale itself was dark, gruesome, and filled with despair. He alone perhaps knew better than anyone what sorts of torturous and agonizing things Maedhros had endured there for so many years, as he had told him some of it in confidence long ago. He had seen the results of it first hand, finding Maedhros in the condition that he did. And on top of that, he had had to cut Maedhros’ hand off just to free him. It was not a pleasant story, and so it was better to just let others think what they wanted about the parts that they did hear.
Ultimately, then, he could not fault Finrod for his admiration, even if it was a little over the top. His cousin had always looked up to him and Maedhros when they were all younger back in Valinor, even though he usually chose to spend time with Turgon instead, being closer in age. And since he had apparently not heard the story before, the newness of it undoubtedly made it sound grander to him, even in all its solemnity.
Fingon knelt down in front of his cousin. “Finrod,” he spoke gently, with a sympathetic look in his eyes. “Your words are very kind, and I thank you for them. It gladdens my heart that you think so highly of me. However, this really isn’t necessary. You do not need to bow to me for what I did. I am still the same Findekano you’ve always known.” He paused. “Come here.” With that, Fingon took Finrod’s hands into his own and helped him stand up. He gave him a smile. “You have a heart of gold yourself, Finrod, and your kindness is much to be admired. I am glad to have a cousin as faithful as you are. Indeed, what’s more, you are a king over your own realm, which you built yourself, with a people who love and follow you, and you are well-known to be a friend of Men and Dwarves as well!” As he said this, he swept his arm as a gesture towards Barahir, Telchar, and Firnen standing off to the side in their own conversation. “What goodness do you not withhold from others? You are great among the Eldar for your deeds as well, and may you be rewarded for such.”
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Finrod in an embrace. When he stepped back, he left his hands to rest upon Finrod’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Now, I wish to hear more of you. How fares Nargothrond?”
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Maedhros smiled at Aredhel, his heart warmed by her words. Truthfully, he didn't see any of the Nolofinwians nearly as often as he would have liked, being so occupied with his own defenses at Himring, and their lands being so far away. But they all had to make such sacrifices in order to keep Morgoth at bay. If they did not all spread out around the land and build kingdoms and defenses, Morgoth would not be contained as he currently was, and would have likely devastated much of Beleriand by now.
"And I consider you, and your brothers and father, like my siblings and father in heart too," he told her. Indeed, the restored relationship between the Fëanorians and the Nolofinwians had been like a healing balm to his heart, after losing his own father Fëanor and obviously after enduring the horrors of Angband and Thangorodrim.
Though, Maedhros was aware that not all his brothers shared such sentiments. The way he had passed the kingship on to Fingolfin had deeply angered some of his brothers, who had hoped the kingship would remain in their family. But Maedhros had had many reasons for doing this. The first was that he thought Fingolfin fairly deserved the title, being the eldest living son of Finwë, and certainly wise enough to do a far better job ruling than Maedhros ever could. The second was that frankly, he didn't entirely trust his brothers to rule. They were too proud and too impulsive, often acting out of anger and greed. They were aggressive and undiplomatic-- particularly Celegorm, Caranthir and Curufin. And since Maedhros had so nearly been killed, he was forced to contend with the idea of one of his brothers being king. Maglor would have done a fine job, possibly, but the others... for the sake of all the Noldor, Maedhros couldn't risk that, not while he was still in control of the title and had some say in the ultimate fate of the kingship. It was a case where he had to prioritize the needs of the Eldar above his own pride.
And lastly, his captivity had shaken him, deeply. He had always believed that the title of king was not a right but a privilege, and that a king must be able to hold his own, or else his title was vain and meaningless. And, well... almost immediately after Fëanor died, Maedhros had proven that he was not able to hold his own, given the way he grossly underestimated Morgoth's forces, got all his men killed, and got taken captive himself. He was not worthy of the title, and Fingolfin was doing a far better job as king than Maedhros could dream of doing himself.
Finrod, though, shook Maedhros out of his thoughts, and he smiled and suppressed a laugh at the somewhat exaggerated display of praise that Finrod bestowed on Fingon. Though, in all honesty, Fingon was not undeserving of such reverent words and fervent praise. To be subject to whatever forms of torture pleased Morgoth and his servants was a fate worse than death, and they had seemed to relish in the idea of not killing Maedhros but making him suffer. He had accepted that this may have been his fate till the end of time, but it was Fingon who saved him from it, and he deserved the highest forms of honor for it. And further, Fingon handled the lavish praise with modesty and grace.
"Indeed, I am also curious how your kingdom of Nargothrond fares, since I have not yet had the opportunity to visit it myself," Maedhros told Finrod. "Yet I have heard tales of its splendor-- it was very clever of you to blend concepts of Dwarvish architecture with our own styles."
Hopefully, Finrod will be a useful bridge between them and the Dwarves and Men. This was one reason why it was so imperative that he join them, since he had a way of earning allies of all different peoples throughout the realm.
"And I consider you, and your brothers and father, like my siblings and father in heart too," he told her. Indeed, the restored relationship between the Fëanorians and the Nolofinwians had been like a healing balm to his heart, after losing his own father Fëanor and obviously after enduring the horrors of Angband and Thangorodrim.
Though, Maedhros was aware that not all his brothers shared such sentiments. The way he had passed the kingship on to Fingolfin had deeply angered some of his brothers, who had hoped the kingship would remain in their family. But Maedhros had had many reasons for doing this. The first was that he thought Fingolfin fairly deserved the title, being the eldest living son of Finwë, and certainly wise enough to do a far better job ruling than Maedhros ever could. The second was that frankly, he didn't entirely trust his brothers to rule. They were too proud and too impulsive, often acting out of anger and greed. They were aggressive and undiplomatic-- particularly Celegorm, Caranthir and Curufin. And since Maedhros had so nearly been killed, he was forced to contend with the idea of one of his brothers being king. Maglor would have done a fine job, possibly, but the others... for the sake of all the Noldor, Maedhros couldn't risk that, not while he was still in control of the title and had some say in the ultimate fate of the kingship. It was a case where he had to prioritize the needs of the Eldar above his own pride.
And lastly, his captivity had shaken him, deeply. He had always believed that the title of king was not a right but a privilege, and that a king must be able to hold his own, or else his title was vain and meaningless. And, well... almost immediately after Fëanor died, Maedhros had proven that he was not able to hold his own, given the way he grossly underestimated Morgoth's forces, got all his men killed, and got taken captive himself. He was not worthy of the title, and Fingolfin was doing a far better job as king than Maedhros could dream of doing himself.
Finrod, though, shook Maedhros out of his thoughts, and he smiled and suppressed a laugh at the somewhat exaggerated display of praise that Finrod bestowed on Fingon. Though, in all honesty, Fingon was not undeserving of such reverent words and fervent praise. To be subject to whatever forms of torture pleased Morgoth and his servants was a fate worse than death, and they had seemed to relish in the idea of not killing Maedhros but making him suffer. He had accepted that this may have been his fate till the end of time, but it was Fingon who saved him from it, and he deserved the highest forms of honor for it. And further, Fingon handled the lavish praise with modesty and grace.
"Indeed, I am also curious how your kingdom of Nargothrond fares, since I have not yet had the opportunity to visit it myself," Maedhros told Finrod. "Yet I have heard tales of its splendor-- it was very clever of you to blend concepts of Dwarvish architecture with our own styles."
Hopefully, Finrod will be a useful bridge between them and the Dwarves and Men. This was one reason why it was so imperative that he join them, since he had a way of earning allies of all different peoples throughout the realm.
Tyelkormo the Fair
Elite
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- Feb 7, 2023
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- 4,985
Lomion grimaced again perhaps for the 100th time in the last half an hour.
the crouching position he had found himself in couldn't be any more uncomfortable than it was.
"and they are just exchanging pleasantries"
thought Lomion as he rolled his eyes.
since arriving in Hithlum his mother had been busy catching up with her family and meetings and councils and all the other stuff a Noldorin princess does,and although unintentionally, avoiding him.
"or maybe not,she hasn't told them about me and Adar, maybe she doesn't want to make them anymore suspicious of me"
And suspicious they were.who wouldn't be suspicious of a young ellon accompanying their supposedly unmarried daughter after her being missing for nearly 150 years.
so that's how his days went by.Waking up,leaving his room to get breakfast before others wake up and leaving for the forest to avoid his uncle and grandfather and being avoided by his mother.
His mother promised him freedom and a warm and welcoming family,a real one,here between the Noldor but in his opinion things haven't been that much different from his life in Nan Elmoth.
but today of all days he had opted for wandering the vast castle of Hithlum's stronghold instead of wandering in the pine forest surrounding it.
and he had decided to go look around the what was, though unbeknownst to him,the room that they were supposed to hold the important council to gather all their allies.
and here he was crouching behind the curtains and to any other eyes,if they saw him, spying.
"Well I was never known to have much luck in anything,I should stop testing it one of these days"
he thought bitterly as he lost feelings in his legs completely.
The first people to enter the room had been laughing so loudly that gave him enough time to hide before they open the doors.
there came his mother, grandfather, uncle and a very tall,red headed ellon that was handsome even with the scars covering his face,and though he nearly missed her as she was wearing black from head to toe,the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.She was even more beautiful than his mother which Lomion had thought it impossible.
they mentioned that his uncle Turgon won't be attending the council, which was good for as there would be less people had should try not to get their attention and according to Aredhel he was pretty paranoid.
the red hea- no, Maedhros,he corrected himself made a comment about how cold Hithlum was and he couldn't agree more.Nan Elmoth wasn't the most sunlit place but at least the forges kept their house warm.
His mother then talked about Helcaraxe which made them a little awkward before they start laughing again.
Lomion didn't know much about Helcaraxe and to be honest,he didn't think he wanted to either.It seems even more cold and unpleasant than Hithlum.
It was the next guests arrival that made his eyes Bulge.
There stood Telchar,the best known Dwarven smith of all time,in his opinion at least and there was another younger Dwarrow accompanying him.
His skill was such that even his proud father spoke of him with respect.
And instead of jumping to greet his role model he was hiding behind a curtain as he slowly lost the feelings in all his limbs
the thought of it made him want to weep and he let out a quiet whimper which he regretted in a second.
when he looked up again he saw the black robed woman which he had thought to be an Elf but his uncle clarified to be a Maia, staring at him with her eyes that looked like small pieces of Galvorn.
He swallowed slowly as her gaze lingered on him for what felt like an eternity.
but then she gave him a small smile and turned back to look at the others.
It was only then that Lomion felt like he can breath again.
as his eyes went back to the other people in the room he noticed another ellon with hair like gold and even more handsome than Maedhros and one of the secondborn.
the Ellon was conversing with his mother about king Thingol and he heard Aredhel addressing him as Finrod.so that was the king of Nargothrond. Finrod then turned to greet Maedhros.
"he is a Talkative fellow,and pleasant one if not overly passionate"
He thought grinning slightly.
They were talking about some rumors which made both him and Maedhros confused and only when Finrod awkwardly pointed at Maedhros's right side did Lomion notice his right hand,or lack thereof it.
Maedhros explained that he was held captive in Angband for nearly 30 years which made Lomion shiver with fear.
Angband was well known to someone as sheltered as him and even though he didn't even know Maedhros or held any love for him his heart felt great sympathy.
but then he said how his uncle Fingon had valiantly went to save his cousin and best friend from Morgoth himself.
he turned to look at his uncle who had started to tell his own side of the story, although he pictured himself much more humbly.
he didn't know his uncle much and couldn't say he loved him,but he felt pride swell in his chest to be related to someone as selfless as Fingolfin's Eldest child.
Lomion then heard his mother's words and know it was all true.Aredhel Ar-Feiniel loved her family so fiercely that she'd fight not only Morgoth but the whole Arda to keep them safe.
it was then that any doubt of his mother's love for him that had arised since coming here vanished.He was her son and she loved him no matter what.
A weight had lifed from his heart then.
"doesn't matter how long she takes to tell them about my identity, she'd never leave me to stay here with them if she can help it"
through his relief he almost missed King Finrod's reaction to the story and it took all of his willpower to not laugh at him.
"passionate indeed"
he whispered with a huge grin.
the crouching position he had found himself in couldn't be any more uncomfortable than it was.
"and they are just exchanging pleasantries"
thought Lomion as he rolled his eyes.
since arriving in Hithlum his mother had been busy catching up with her family and meetings and councils and all the other stuff a Noldorin princess does,and although unintentionally, avoiding him.
"or maybe not,she hasn't told them about me and Adar, maybe she doesn't want to make them anymore suspicious of me"
And suspicious they were.who wouldn't be suspicious of a young ellon accompanying their supposedly unmarried daughter after her being missing for nearly 150 years.
so that's how his days went by.Waking up,leaving his room to get breakfast before others wake up and leaving for the forest to avoid his uncle and grandfather and being avoided by his mother.
His mother promised him freedom and a warm and welcoming family,a real one,here between the Noldor but in his opinion things haven't been that much different from his life in Nan Elmoth.
but today of all days he had opted for wandering the vast castle of Hithlum's stronghold instead of wandering in the pine forest surrounding it.
and he had decided to go look around the what was, though unbeknownst to him,the room that they were supposed to hold the important council to gather all their allies.
and here he was crouching behind the curtains and to any other eyes,if they saw him, spying.
"Well I was never known to have much luck in anything,I should stop testing it one of these days"
he thought bitterly as he lost feelings in his legs completely.
The first people to enter the room had been laughing so loudly that gave him enough time to hide before they open the doors.
there came his mother, grandfather, uncle and a very tall,red headed ellon that was handsome even with the scars covering his face,and though he nearly missed her as she was wearing black from head to toe,the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.She was even more beautiful than his mother which Lomion had thought it impossible.
they mentioned that his uncle Turgon won't be attending the council, which was good for as there would be less people had should try not to get their attention and according to Aredhel he was pretty paranoid.
the red hea- no, Maedhros,he corrected himself made a comment about how cold Hithlum was and he couldn't agree more.Nan Elmoth wasn't the most sunlit place but at least the forges kept their house warm.
His mother then talked about Helcaraxe which made them a little awkward before they start laughing again.
Lomion didn't know much about Helcaraxe and to be honest,he didn't think he wanted to either.It seems even more cold and unpleasant than Hithlum.
It was the next guests arrival that made his eyes Bulge.
There stood Telchar,the best known Dwarven smith of all time,in his opinion at least and there was another younger Dwarrow accompanying him.
His skill was such that even his proud father spoke of him with respect.
And instead of jumping to greet his role model he was hiding behind a curtain as he slowly lost the feelings in all his limbs
the thought of it made him want to weep and he let out a quiet whimper which he regretted in a second.
when he looked up again he saw the black robed woman which he had thought to be an Elf but his uncle clarified to be a Maia, staring at him with her eyes that looked like small pieces of Galvorn.
He swallowed slowly as her gaze lingered on him for what felt like an eternity.
but then she gave him a small smile and turned back to look at the others.
It was only then that Lomion felt like he can breath again.
as his eyes went back to the other people in the room he noticed another ellon with hair like gold and even more handsome than Maedhros and one of the secondborn.
the Ellon was conversing with his mother about king Thingol and he heard Aredhel addressing him as Finrod.so that was the king of Nargothrond. Finrod then turned to greet Maedhros.
"he is a Talkative fellow,and pleasant one if not overly passionate"
He thought grinning slightly.
They were talking about some rumors which made both him and Maedhros confused and only when Finrod awkwardly pointed at Maedhros's right side did Lomion notice his right hand,or lack thereof it.
Maedhros explained that he was held captive in Angband for nearly 30 years which made Lomion shiver with fear.
Angband was well known to someone as sheltered as him and even though he didn't even know Maedhros or held any love for him his heart felt great sympathy.
but then he said how his uncle Fingon had valiantly went to save his cousin and best friend from Morgoth himself.
he turned to look at his uncle who had started to tell his own side of the story, although he pictured himself much more humbly.
he didn't know his uncle much and couldn't say he loved him,but he felt pride swell in his chest to be related to someone as selfless as Fingolfin's Eldest child.
Lomion then heard his mother's words and know it was all true.Aredhel Ar-Feiniel loved her family so fiercely that she'd fight not only Morgoth but the whole Arda to keep them safe.
it was then that any doubt of his mother's love for him that had arised since coming here vanished.He was her son and she loved him no matter what.
A weight had lifed from his heart then.
"doesn't matter how long she takes to tell them about my identity, she'd never leave me to stay here with them if she can help it"
through his relief he almost missed King Finrod's reaction to the story and it took all of his willpower to not laugh at him.
"passionate indeed"
he whispered with a huge grin.
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Áramandë Amaniel
Almalaurië o Mandos
- Joined
- Aug 1, 2022
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- 3,363
Amaniel, now sitting in her seat once more, closed her eyes and reached out in thought.
Lómion, son of Ar-Feiniel. Thou hidest in the shadows, cloaked in mystery and robes of ebony, not unlike ways of my own as thou hadst seen not so long ago. Mayhap we are not so different as we once thought.
Lómion, son of Ar-Feiniel. Thou hidest in the shadows, cloaked in mystery and robes of ebony, not unlike ways of my own as thou hadst seen not so long ago. Mayhap we are not so different as we once thought.
- Joined
- Mar 18, 2023
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- 3,482
Jorlan Elükar
Lord of Thargelion, Son of Fëanor and Nerdanel
- Joined
- Sep 1, 2020
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- 127
- Joined
- Nov 28, 2022
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- 3,750
Maedhros saw Barahir coming towards him even before he spoke. He had already been meaning to speak with him and the Dwarves and to give them a proper greeting, but the conversation with his cousins had him distracted. So, as eager as he was to hear Finrod's response regarding Nargothrond, he figured it could wait, and said politely to Finrod and Fingon, "Please excuse me for a moment. I have yet to greet our other guests."
Besides, the Men and Dwarves were often hasty and impatient, at least by Elven standards, so it was best not to keep them waiting.
At Barahir's greeting, he smiled and gave a deep and respectful nod of his head. "Greetings, Lord Barahir. I fare very well, thank you, and what about yourself?" He added, "Thank you, once again, for agreeing to join us. I look forward to being allied with you and the House of Bëor."
He didn't yet know the man well, having only interacted with him when he had recruited him not too long before. But hopefully that would change, and this group would work well together.
Besides, Maedhros hadn't interacted a lot with Men in general. He had a few as allies in Himring, but he was still amazed by how short their lifespans were-- less than a hundred years. Some Elves were not even considered fully adult by age one hundred. To have such a short life seemed tragic, and so Maedhros couldn't fault them much for being impatient sometimes. And in stature, they were shorter than the average Elf, though not as short as Dwarves. And given that Maedhros was taller than all the Elves except for Turgon and Thingol, it felt very strange to him to look down so far to make eye contact with someone. But, he was starting to get used to it.
Besides, the Men and Dwarves were often hasty and impatient, at least by Elven standards, so it was best not to keep them waiting.
At Barahir's greeting, he smiled and gave a deep and respectful nod of his head. "Greetings, Lord Barahir. I fare very well, thank you, and what about yourself?" He added, "Thank you, once again, for agreeing to join us. I look forward to being allied with you and the House of Bëor."
He didn't yet know the man well, having only interacted with him when he had recruited him not too long before. But hopefully that would change, and this group would work well together.
Besides, Maedhros hadn't interacted a lot with Men in general. He had a few as allies in Himring, but he was still amazed by how short their lifespans were-- less than a hundred years. Some Elves were not even considered fully adult by age one hundred. To have such a short life seemed tragic, and so Maedhros couldn't fault them much for being impatient sometimes. And in stature, they were shorter than the average Elf, though not as short as Dwarves. And given that Maedhros was taller than all the Elves except for Turgon and Thingol, it felt very strange to him to look down so far to make eye contact with someone. But, he was starting to get used to it.
Jorlan Elükar
Lord of Thargelion, Son of Fëanor and Nerdanel
- Joined
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''I to fare well, and look forward to the day when we may draw swords together and rout the vile shadow of the north from his hole.'' Barahir replied.
Taking in the sight of the scarred face and missing hand, he knew that this was one elf who would not flee from the hosts of Morgoth. Barahir had heard the tale of Maedhros's imprisonment, and marveled at the strength it must have taken to survive such treatment.
Barahir noticed the dwarves coming up behind him and moved to give them room to speak with Maedhros as well.
Taking in the sight of the scarred face and missing hand, he knew that this was one elf who would not flee from the hosts of Morgoth. Barahir had heard the tale of Maedhros's imprisonment, and marveled at the strength it must have taken to survive such treatment.
Barahir noticed the dwarves coming up behind him and moved to give them room to speak with Maedhros as well.
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Elbereth Vala Varda
Writer, poet, child of God
- Joined
- May 22, 2022
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- 3,954
Finrod is delighted by Fingon's words, and moved to even more admiration of him. Not only is he a great heroic figure, one who has done an incredible deed and should be forever honored and remembered for it, he is also pure, humble, steadfast and simple. And Finrod saw in him all the traits that he would love to emulate himself and wondered how it is that his cousin has become such a great and legendary figure, an emblem of the Eldar, shining undimmed and unbroken.
"Thank you." He said modestly, a slight bow of the head. "It is very kind of you to speak such things of me. And in you I see even greater honor for it, since you are not overly excited or prideful by the words that any might say to you." And with that, he paused, feeling that he has said too much. "I am sorry, of course, for placing all of this onto you. I did not mean to discomfort you, or to overwhelm you..." He stopped. Surely, I have done that. He surely did not mean to, and yet he most likely did. But feeling there was little more that he could do to fix it, he moved onto the part of the conversation that involved Nargothrond.
"Indeed, Nargothrond fares well," He said, turning to Maedhros and Fingon with a grin. "All is well there, and while I appreciate very much the hailing praises that you sing of it, I cannot take credit for such things. 'Twas Thingol of Doriath that inspired such architecture and glory," He said this mostly in Maedhros' direction, hoping he could prove that King Thingol was good, very good, and should not have been so quickly cast aside in mind and heart as Maedhros seemed to do. "The halls are modeled upon the same ideas and beauty that form Menegroth, if you have ever seen it." He smiled widely, again presenting his very discreet case against Maedhros' blatant disrespect for Thingol's Kingdom. "Thingol and Melian are very wise, very great rulers. They have built much, and I attribute the most of Nargothrond to them."
He turned also to Fingon, as Maedhros walked away. "Cousin, I really must thank you for saving both of these kingdoms. Your heroic deed not only at Thangorodrim but after, saved us all from having a terrible ruler, and I can't say that I have any idea what we would have done if the sons of Feanor sat upon the throne." He didn't mean any disrespect by this, of course, but the idea of having Feanor's sons, those rather hot-headed ones who took that terrible oath, sitting on the throne as rulers, the thought of it was preposterous. He was only glad that they never had to find out what that would be like.
He turned then to Barahir and to Firnen and Telchar.
"Friends," He said widely. "How fare you all?" For he had indeed become good friends with Barahir and also with the Dwarves.
Fingolfin gathered together his papers aside, turning to tap his son on the shoulder. "Fingon, do you think we ought to begin soon? It seems that everyone is gathered."
"Thank you." He said modestly, a slight bow of the head. "It is very kind of you to speak such things of me. And in you I see even greater honor for it, since you are not overly excited or prideful by the words that any might say to you." And with that, he paused, feeling that he has said too much. "I am sorry, of course, for placing all of this onto you. I did not mean to discomfort you, or to overwhelm you..." He stopped. Surely, I have done that. He surely did not mean to, and yet he most likely did. But feeling there was little more that he could do to fix it, he moved onto the part of the conversation that involved Nargothrond.
"Indeed, Nargothrond fares well," He said, turning to Maedhros and Fingon with a grin. "All is well there, and while I appreciate very much the hailing praises that you sing of it, I cannot take credit for such things. 'Twas Thingol of Doriath that inspired such architecture and glory," He said this mostly in Maedhros' direction, hoping he could prove that King Thingol was good, very good, and should not have been so quickly cast aside in mind and heart as Maedhros seemed to do. "The halls are modeled upon the same ideas and beauty that form Menegroth, if you have ever seen it." He smiled widely, again presenting his very discreet case against Maedhros' blatant disrespect for Thingol's Kingdom. "Thingol and Melian are very wise, very great rulers. They have built much, and I attribute the most of Nargothrond to them."
He turned also to Fingon, as Maedhros walked away. "Cousin, I really must thank you for saving both of these kingdoms. Your heroic deed not only at Thangorodrim but after, saved us all from having a terrible ruler, and I can't say that I have any idea what we would have done if the sons of Feanor sat upon the throne." He didn't mean any disrespect by this, of course, but the idea of having Feanor's sons, those rather hot-headed ones who took that terrible oath, sitting on the throne as rulers, the thought of it was preposterous. He was only glad that they never had to find out what that would be like.
He turned then to Barahir and to Firnen and Telchar.
"Friends," He said widely. "How fare you all?" For he had indeed become good friends with Barahir and also with the Dwarves.
Fingolfin gathered together his papers aside, turning to tap his son on the shoulder. "Fingon, do you think we ought to begin soon? It seems that everyone is gathered."
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Tyelkormo the Fair
Elite
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- Feb 7, 2023
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- 4,985
Lómion nearly shouted when he heard the woman's voice in his head.
He looked around at first to see if others have noticed as well.
Everyone were chatting and no one was looking at his hiding spot which made him sigh in relief.
He then looked at cause of his panic and found her looking at the ground as if not she had just scared him half to death, although there was a small smile, almost mischievous,if the Maiar could be he thought, grazing her lips.
If he was anyone else he'd probably miss her subtle comment about his lineage,but he was also Eöl's son, which made him suspicious of everyone he met.
"Maybe we are,and maybe we aren't.you seem to know much more that you let on my lady,and it's not a quality we share.tell me,how did you know who I am?"
He replied to her the same way she
talked to him at first, hoping that she'd not answer and his mind was just playing tricks on him out of boredom.
Aredhel heard her father telling Fingon that they should start the meeting as everyone were already there.
She smiled anxiously at her father and brother which made Fingon look at her with suspicion.He had been giving her the same look for weeks since she arrived.a question always on his lips but he'd swallowed it down because he was as considerate as he was perspective and she knew he'll wait until Aredhel is ready to talk herself.
And she was going to,after the meeting.
This Battle they were planning was a huge risk and they all knew it.
And she didn't want to deprive her son of his family's affection anymore.
"I'll tell them all after the meeting is over, doesn't matter what they think of me marrying someone like Eöl, they'll never shun away my son."
she wanted to believe that,but there was still sliver of doubt in her heart.
He looked around at first to see if others have noticed as well.
Everyone were chatting and no one was looking at his hiding spot which made him sigh in relief.
He then looked at cause of his panic and found her looking at the ground as if not she had just scared him half to death, although there was a small smile, almost mischievous,if the Maiar could be he thought, grazing her lips.
If he was anyone else he'd probably miss her subtle comment about his lineage,but he was also Eöl's son, which made him suspicious of everyone he met.
"Maybe we are,and maybe we aren't.you seem to know much more that you let on my lady,and it's not a quality we share.tell me,how did you know who I am?"
He replied to her the same way she
talked to him at first, hoping that she'd not answer and his mind was just playing tricks on him out of boredom.
Aredhel heard her father telling Fingon that they should start the meeting as everyone were already there.
She smiled anxiously at her father and brother which made Fingon look at her with suspicion.He had been giving her the same look for weeks since she arrived.a question always on his lips but he'd swallowed it down because he was as considerate as he was perspective and she knew he'll wait until Aredhel is ready to talk herself.
And she was going to,after the meeting.
This Battle they were planning was a huge risk and they all knew it.
And she didn't want to deprive her son of his family's affection anymore.
"I'll tell them all after the meeting is over, doesn't matter what they think of me marrying someone like Eöl, they'll never shun away my son."
she wanted to believe that,but there was still sliver of doubt in her heart.
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Áramandë Amaniel
Almalaurië o Mandos
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- Aug 1, 2022
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- 3,363
A soft chuckle of hers echoed throughout Lómion's mind, no doubt once more of Amaniel's doing as a slight smirk appeared on her face, though it was hardly noticeable.
That moment in which I came to you earlier, glancing upon you....did you truly not think that I would have known? Of course, I mean you no harm. Yet I must say, one glance of much depth upon your eyes, deep within your fëa, and I know of who you are. Many things I may see if I so desire, for the ways of the fëa are rarely concealed to me, and yet little I shall reveal. For to speak of too much ere the time has come, or e'en just at the wrong moment, may bring ill-fated results that would have ne'er been expected.
That moment in which I came to you earlier, glancing upon you....did you truly not think that I would have known? Of course, I mean you no harm. Yet I must say, one glance of much depth upon your eyes, deep within your fëa, and I know of who you are. Many things I may see if I so desire, for the ways of the fëa are rarely concealed to me, and yet little I shall reveal. For to speak of too much ere the time has come, or e'en just at the wrong moment, may bring ill-fated results that would have ne'er been expected.
Tyelkormo the Fair
Elite
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Lómion's frown deepened as she continued speaking with him through his mind.
Well he did mention that he wasn't the luckiest ellon,so he didn't know why he even hoped that her voice was part of his imagination as he wasn't the most creative either.
He sighed again.were all the Ainur this vague about everything?was it something of a norm to speak with riddles in the west?he did not think so as his mother was one of the most straightforward people he knew.
He almost missed Fingolfin telling his son that they should start the council as everyone were present, which made him relieved.
"Well more than everyone if you want to count me as well, is all I'm saying"
He thought as he laughed at his own jest.
Well he did mention that he wasn't the luckiest ellon,so he didn't know why he even hoped that her voice was part of his imagination as he wasn't the most creative either.
He sighed again.were all the Ainur this vague about everything?was it something of a norm to speak with riddles in the west?he did not think so as his mother was one of the most straightforward people he knew.
He almost missed Fingolfin telling his son that they should start the council as everyone were present, which made him relieved.
"Well more than everyone if you want to count me as well, is all I'm saying"
He thought as he laughed at his own jest.
Áramandë Amaniel
Almalaurië o Mandos
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- Aug 1, 2022
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- 3,363
Yet Amaniel continued to speak to Lómion in thought, a small chuckle echoing once more:
Ah, well; that is most unfortunate indeed. For one to observe from afar, unable to truly reveal their voice and who they truly are, to remain hidden in the shadows....that sounds quite like myself, if I may say. As I have said....we are not so different, leastways from this perspective. For rarely do I speak, and yet when I do, my words hold their due weight.
Ah, well; that is most unfortunate indeed. For one to observe from afar, unable to truly reveal their voice and who they truly are, to remain hidden in the shadows....that sounds quite like myself, if I may say. As I have said....we are not so different, leastways from this perspective. For rarely do I speak, and yet when I do, my words hold their due weight.
Fingon_Findekáno
Loyal Best Friend
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Fingon smiled warmly in gratefulness at Finrod. His face softened, though, when Finrod started to apologize for his actions, apparently now feeling a little embarrassed over them. He inwardly gave a small chuckle and shook his head slightly. “It is well, Cousin; do not worry. I have grown used to it over time. You just... surprised me with it, is all.” He didn’t want Finrod to feel bad about what he had done, for indeed it was a sweet gesture to honor him like that, and Finrod was ever one to be considerate of others.
As Finrod began to talk about Nargothrond, it didn’t take long for Fingon to notice that there were some points he would emphasize in his speech, especially when talking about King Thingol and Menegroth, and that he would usually give a more pointed stare at Maedhros when he said them. He blinked, not sure quite what to say as he glanced back and forth between the two of them. Was it just him, or did it seem like there had been some tension between them about this? Had he missed something in their earlier conversation? He was aware that Thingol didn’t like the Fëanorians very much, because of their dark deeds and temper, and for that he wanted nothing to do with them, but why was Finrod acting like he was trying to prove something to Maedhros here? Something must have been said to prompt it. Fingon knew Maedhros wasn’t particularly fond of Thingol either, for obvious reasons, so it didn’t surprise him, if that was the case. Being that Finrod was close friends with the King of Doriath, he probably took it personally, like he often did in defense of others. As for Fingon, his feelings were more neutral, as relations were decent between the House of Fingolfin and Doriath.
In an attempt to keep the conversation moving, Fingon replied first. “It sounds magnificent. I have heard much of the beauty of Menegroth, so I’ve no doubt Nargothrond is nothing less than breathtaking. We really should pay you a visit sometime, when we’re not in the middle of a siege here.” He gave a slight smile out of humor. “Tell me, how has trade been with the Naugrim of late?”
As Maedhros excused himself from the conversation, Fingon gave a nod of his head in return, and watched him walk over to speak with Barahir and the Dwarves. An amused look came over his face as he almost laughed a bit when he saw how much taller Maedhros was compared to them, especially with Telchar and the other Dwarf. Hopefully they would all make stalwart allies in this endeavor.
He was half-listening to Finrod as he spoke again, but then he jolted back to attention at hearing a specific comment. Saved from a terrible ruler? Surely he did not mean Maedhros, who was still within earshot. He took a moment to process all of what Finrod was saying.
Fingon glanced over at Maedhros standing there with his back turned to them, and he hoped he hadn’t heard Finrod’s last comment. As a precaution, though, he led Finrod off to the side, closer to the wall a bit, putting some distance between them and Maedhros before he answered.
“Perhaps it is wise to not speak of those things here,” he spoke in a low tone, leaning into Finrod so only he could hear. “I understand your sentiments about the other Sons, and to some degree I agree with you, but I fear that Maedhros would take it the wrong way. To be sure, you were not speaking of him, nay, but only of his brothers?”
He knew that the Arafinwians were not exactly on the best of terms with the Fëanorians, largely because of the Kinslaying that took place at Alqualondë. Following that, Finrod and his brothers and sister had traversed the deadly wasteland of the Helcaraxë with Fingolfin’s host, after being left behind in Araman. By then, everyone had little love for Fëanor and his sons for what they had done, and indeed, the conflict only continued when they eventually came upon the remainder of Fëanor’s host in Mithrim. While Maglor was standing in temporarily as king, the other brothers' behavior was particularly nasty towards Fingolfin's and Finrod's hosts, and at times even to Maglor himself. Even after he had rescued Maedhros and helped restore peace between the Houses, tensions still existed between individuals, most notably Caranthir and Angrod, Finrod’s brother. Those two had never greatly gotten along in the first place, but Caranthir was the one who instigated the most strife between their Houses, such as when he greatly insulted Angrod during the dividing of the realms amongst the Noldor. However, Angrod was not held faultless, either, because he still harbored great anger towards the Sons of Fëanor for their fell deeds.
If it were not for Maedhros actively trying to keep the peace between them, the Noldor would most likely be splintered between the Houses, and Morgoth would pick them off one by one. Truthfully, it was not Fingon who had restored the peace; it was Maedhros, when he atoned for his family's sins in Araman and Losgar, and willingly chose to pass the kingship over all the Noldor to Fingolfin. This decision had surprised Fingon back then, but once Maedhros had explained his reasonings to him, he understood why. And because of this, Fingon respected Maedhros all the more for it, not because he had given the title to his House, but because Maedhros had the character to know what was best for the Eldar, and he was not so proud as to hold claim onto such a position solely for the sake of his bloodline and name, even if were to mean that anger and strife would continue. No, he had been humble enough to recognize this and let someone else take the lead for the sake of the betterment of their people, looking towards the future. Even he had recognized that his own brothers were not fit to handle such a role with so much responsibility.
Yet, even if Maedhros had retained his claim to kingship, Fingon would have supported him all the same, having confidence in his abilities. What's done was done, though, and Maedhros had made his choice. Of course, that put pressure on Fingon now, because since his father was the High King, if anything should ever happen to him, Fingon would be next in line to inherit the title. He hoped dearly that day would never come. For one, he didn’t feel like he was ready to take on such a large responsibility, to be the ruler over all the Noldor. And second, he thought his father was doing a wonderful job at it. He was wise, intelligent, kind, brave, caring, and so much more. Fingon couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without his father there to look up to, to fight beside and fight for, and to consult with in every matter for advice.
In further considering Finrod's comment, Fingon wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt first. He had never known Finrod to administer backhanded insults before, having always been polite and kind towards others, even in the face of objections and adversity. Looking back, the three of them had always been close, being the eldest sons of their Houses, and he couldn’t imagine Finrod holding any grudge against Maedhros. Fingon didn’t even detect any hint of malice in his tone or expression. While he understood that Finrod was probably speaking about Maedhros’ brothers, and the good fortune it was that they would not inherit the kingship, he felt that with the way it was worded, the sentiments could easily be misinterpreted.
When Finrod decided to join Maedhros in his conversation with Barahir and the Dwarves, Fingon started to approach Aredhel so he could speak with her for a moment, but a tap on his shoulder made him turn around to face his father as he spoke. He glanced around the room, seeing everyone in conversations and in good spirits, with Amaniel still sitting there alone in thought. While it still didn’t seem like many were in attendance, he knew that each represented a larger party, and perhaps more would gather to their cause with time.
“Yes, I agree, Father. I think some guests are getting a little restless to begin, so the sooner we start, the more we might have their cooperation with this. I trust you have everything organized?”
As Fingon glanced around the room again, he caught Aredhel’s eye, and she gave him a strange sort of smile, like she was nervous about something. In return, he gave her a puzzled look of concern. She had been behaving a little unusual ever since she had returned some weeks ago, and he’d been meaning ask her about it. It was unlike her to be nervous about anything, so whatever it was must be something significant. He wished she would confide in him her worries so that she wouldn’t have to bear them alone. However, he also didn’t want her to feel pressured about it either, just as how he didn’t pressure Maedhros to open up about his experiences from Angband. In time, when he was ready, he eventually told him some things about it. Fingon hoped that the same would be true here; that someday, his sister would also feel comfortable enough to speak with him.
As Finrod began to talk about Nargothrond, it didn’t take long for Fingon to notice that there were some points he would emphasize in his speech, especially when talking about King Thingol and Menegroth, and that he would usually give a more pointed stare at Maedhros when he said them. He blinked, not sure quite what to say as he glanced back and forth between the two of them. Was it just him, or did it seem like there had been some tension between them about this? Had he missed something in their earlier conversation? He was aware that Thingol didn’t like the Fëanorians very much, because of their dark deeds and temper, and for that he wanted nothing to do with them, but why was Finrod acting like he was trying to prove something to Maedhros here? Something must have been said to prompt it. Fingon knew Maedhros wasn’t particularly fond of Thingol either, for obvious reasons, so it didn’t surprise him, if that was the case. Being that Finrod was close friends with the King of Doriath, he probably took it personally, like he often did in defense of others. As for Fingon, his feelings were more neutral, as relations were decent between the House of Fingolfin and Doriath.
In an attempt to keep the conversation moving, Fingon replied first. “It sounds magnificent. I have heard much of the beauty of Menegroth, so I’ve no doubt Nargothrond is nothing less than breathtaking. We really should pay you a visit sometime, when we’re not in the middle of a siege here.” He gave a slight smile out of humor. “Tell me, how has trade been with the Naugrim of late?”
As Maedhros excused himself from the conversation, Fingon gave a nod of his head in return, and watched him walk over to speak with Barahir and the Dwarves. An amused look came over his face as he almost laughed a bit when he saw how much taller Maedhros was compared to them, especially with Telchar and the other Dwarf. Hopefully they would all make stalwart allies in this endeavor.
He was half-listening to Finrod as he spoke again, but then he jolted back to attention at hearing a specific comment. Saved from a terrible ruler? Surely he did not mean Maedhros, who was still within earshot. He took a moment to process all of what Finrod was saying.
Fingon glanced over at Maedhros standing there with his back turned to them, and he hoped he hadn’t heard Finrod’s last comment. As a precaution, though, he led Finrod off to the side, closer to the wall a bit, putting some distance between them and Maedhros before he answered.
“Perhaps it is wise to not speak of those things here,” he spoke in a low tone, leaning into Finrod so only he could hear. “I understand your sentiments about the other Sons, and to some degree I agree with you, but I fear that Maedhros would take it the wrong way. To be sure, you were not speaking of him, nay, but only of his brothers?”
He knew that the Arafinwians were not exactly on the best of terms with the Fëanorians, largely because of the Kinslaying that took place at Alqualondë. Following that, Finrod and his brothers and sister had traversed the deadly wasteland of the Helcaraxë with Fingolfin’s host, after being left behind in Araman. By then, everyone had little love for Fëanor and his sons for what they had done, and indeed, the conflict only continued when they eventually came upon the remainder of Fëanor’s host in Mithrim. While Maglor was standing in temporarily as king, the other brothers' behavior was particularly nasty towards Fingolfin's and Finrod's hosts, and at times even to Maglor himself. Even after he had rescued Maedhros and helped restore peace between the Houses, tensions still existed between individuals, most notably Caranthir and Angrod, Finrod’s brother. Those two had never greatly gotten along in the first place, but Caranthir was the one who instigated the most strife between their Houses, such as when he greatly insulted Angrod during the dividing of the realms amongst the Noldor. However, Angrod was not held faultless, either, because he still harbored great anger towards the Sons of Fëanor for their fell deeds.
If it were not for Maedhros actively trying to keep the peace between them, the Noldor would most likely be splintered between the Houses, and Morgoth would pick them off one by one. Truthfully, it was not Fingon who had restored the peace; it was Maedhros, when he atoned for his family's sins in Araman and Losgar, and willingly chose to pass the kingship over all the Noldor to Fingolfin. This decision had surprised Fingon back then, but once Maedhros had explained his reasonings to him, he understood why. And because of this, Fingon respected Maedhros all the more for it, not because he had given the title to his House, but because Maedhros had the character to know what was best for the Eldar, and he was not so proud as to hold claim onto such a position solely for the sake of his bloodline and name, even if were to mean that anger and strife would continue. No, he had been humble enough to recognize this and let someone else take the lead for the sake of the betterment of their people, looking towards the future. Even he had recognized that his own brothers were not fit to handle such a role with so much responsibility.
Yet, even if Maedhros had retained his claim to kingship, Fingon would have supported him all the same, having confidence in his abilities. What's done was done, though, and Maedhros had made his choice. Of course, that put pressure on Fingon now, because since his father was the High King, if anything should ever happen to him, Fingon would be next in line to inherit the title. He hoped dearly that day would never come. For one, he didn’t feel like he was ready to take on such a large responsibility, to be the ruler over all the Noldor. And second, he thought his father was doing a wonderful job at it. He was wise, intelligent, kind, brave, caring, and so much more. Fingon couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without his father there to look up to, to fight beside and fight for, and to consult with in every matter for advice.
In further considering Finrod's comment, Fingon wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt first. He had never known Finrod to administer backhanded insults before, having always been polite and kind towards others, even in the face of objections and adversity. Looking back, the three of them had always been close, being the eldest sons of their Houses, and he couldn’t imagine Finrod holding any grudge against Maedhros. Fingon didn’t even detect any hint of malice in his tone or expression. While he understood that Finrod was probably speaking about Maedhros’ brothers, and the good fortune it was that they would not inherit the kingship, he felt that with the way it was worded, the sentiments could easily be misinterpreted.
When Finrod decided to join Maedhros in his conversation with Barahir and the Dwarves, Fingon started to approach Aredhel so he could speak with her for a moment, but a tap on his shoulder made him turn around to face his father as he spoke. He glanced around the room, seeing everyone in conversations and in good spirits, with Amaniel still sitting there alone in thought. While it still didn’t seem like many were in attendance, he knew that each represented a larger party, and perhaps more would gather to their cause with time.
“Yes, I agree, Father. I think some guests are getting a little restless to begin, so the sooner we start, the more we might have their cooperation with this. I trust you have everything organized?”
As Fingon glanced around the room again, he caught Aredhel’s eye, and she gave him a strange sort of smile, like she was nervous about something. In return, he gave her a puzzled look of concern. She had been behaving a little unusual ever since she had returned some weeks ago, and he’d been meaning ask her about it. It was unlike her to be nervous about anything, so whatever it was must be something significant. He wished she would confide in him her worries so that she wouldn’t have to bear them alone. However, he also didn’t want her to feel pressured about it either, just as how he didn’t pressure Maedhros to open up about his experiences from Angband. In time, when he was ready, he eventually told him some things about it. Fingon hoped that the same would be true here; that someday, his sister would also feel comfortable enough to speak with him.
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Maedhros listened politely to what Finrod said about Nargothrond, and replied, "I'm glad to hear that it fares well, and that it seems to be governed with wisdom and excellence."
There; he managed to compliment the competency of Thingol without speaking too warmly of him personally. After all, Maedhros could easily pick up that Finrod was being a bit passive-aggressive in his defense of Thingol, almost trying to persuade or correct Maedhros in his earlier comment. Not that he was personally offended about it; he and his brothers weren't exactly well-liked by everyone, and he had seen much, much worse things in life than a bit of passive-aggressiveness. Still, he would have never made his remark about Thingol if he had been thinking a little more carefully about Finrod's closeness with him.
And he was glad to have the excuse to leave that conversation and talk to Barahir instead, and now the Dwarves were approaching him too. But his conversation with Barahir had just barely begun when he couldn't help but overhear something else: "You have saved us from a terrible ruler... I cannot even imagine a son of Fëanor on the throne."
Maedhros paused, recognizing the voice of Finrod, and glanced sharply backwards in a moment of brief distraction. Had Finrod really just said that about his family, in front of everyone here? Was he really that offended by Maedhros' earlier remark about Thingol and determined to continue chipping away with little backhanded insults and passive-aggressive remarks? Good thing for all of them that I'm the one here and not Caranthir or one of the others, he thought to himself. Though he found the remark terribly rude, he didn't say anything about it, and turned back towards Barahir. He was used to tolerating insults, though to see one coming from his own cousin during a delicate diplomatic meeting was not at all what he had expected. But thankfully, it looked like Fingon was pulling him aside to talk to him, and Maedhros fully trusted him to handle that situation with tact.
Turning his full attention back to Barahir, he replied, "Indeed; I don't look forward much to the fighting itself, but I am grateful that we will at least face it together, and thanks to your aid we shall hopefully stand a much better chance against the Dark Lord."
The man looked young, even by human standards, and Maedhros realized he would not yet have seen war in its truest form, since the past few hundred years had been peaceful. There was a possibility that perhaps he saw a certain glory in battle and yearned for a chance to prove himself-- though, obviously, Maedhros could not know that for sure, since he did not yet know Barahir well. But Maedhros had seen enough battle and violence in life to know that there was nothing glorious about it, and it grieved him somewhat to think that the young man might learn the ugly truth sooner than later.
Was it really right of the Eldar to enlist the help of these mortal people in their wars? It was a question which had bothered Maedhros increasingly the more he came to understand about mortal men. He rationalized it in his mind by figuring that Morgoth was just as much a threat to Men as he was to Elves, and besides, there was no time to question that anymore now that Barahir and his House had agreed to join the fight.
Then, Telchar and his son approached, and Maedhros responded to them: "Greetings, Lord Telchar. Thank you again for agreeing to lend us your aid. And it is a pleasure to meet you as well, Firnen. Your father told me much of your skill in metalworking. I greatly look forward to seeing your Dwarvish craftsmanship in action."
Unlike some of the Eldar, Maedhros held a great liking for the Dwarves. Perhaps it was because their skills in smithery reminded him of his father, Fëanor, who had been the most skilled smith amongst the Elves. It made his heart heavy to think of his father's untimely death, and how it might have been prevented if, perhaps, a little better strategy had been used. And hopefully this meeting would prevent such reckless mistakes from happening to anyone else.
There was only one person here with whom Maedhros had not yet personally spoken, and that was Amaniel the Maia. He hoped he would get a chance to greet her properly before the meeting started, but she was also the one that Maedhros felt most wary of. His family didn't have the greatest relationship with the Ainur, especially because of the Oath they had all sworn to recover their stolen Silmarils at all costs, and that they would even oppose the Valar in this quest. Maedhros didn't have the same angst against the Valar and Maiar that his father once had, but he was greatly surprised that any one of them would be interested in joining this alliance knowng that he was in it, and this made him somewhat wary.
There; he managed to compliment the competency of Thingol without speaking too warmly of him personally. After all, Maedhros could easily pick up that Finrod was being a bit passive-aggressive in his defense of Thingol, almost trying to persuade or correct Maedhros in his earlier comment. Not that he was personally offended about it; he and his brothers weren't exactly well-liked by everyone, and he had seen much, much worse things in life than a bit of passive-aggressiveness. Still, he would have never made his remark about Thingol if he had been thinking a little more carefully about Finrod's closeness with him.
And he was glad to have the excuse to leave that conversation and talk to Barahir instead, and now the Dwarves were approaching him too. But his conversation with Barahir had just barely begun when he couldn't help but overhear something else: "You have saved us from a terrible ruler... I cannot even imagine a son of Fëanor on the throne."
Maedhros paused, recognizing the voice of Finrod, and glanced sharply backwards in a moment of brief distraction. Had Finrod really just said that about his family, in front of everyone here? Was he really that offended by Maedhros' earlier remark about Thingol and determined to continue chipping away with little backhanded insults and passive-aggressive remarks? Good thing for all of them that I'm the one here and not Caranthir or one of the others, he thought to himself. Though he found the remark terribly rude, he didn't say anything about it, and turned back towards Barahir. He was used to tolerating insults, though to see one coming from his own cousin during a delicate diplomatic meeting was not at all what he had expected. But thankfully, it looked like Fingon was pulling him aside to talk to him, and Maedhros fully trusted him to handle that situation with tact.
Turning his full attention back to Barahir, he replied, "Indeed; I don't look forward much to the fighting itself, but I am grateful that we will at least face it together, and thanks to your aid we shall hopefully stand a much better chance against the Dark Lord."
The man looked young, even by human standards, and Maedhros realized he would not yet have seen war in its truest form, since the past few hundred years had been peaceful. There was a possibility that perhaps he saw a certain glory in battle and yearned for a chance to prove himself-- though, obviously, Maedhros could not know that for sure, since he did not yet know Barahir well. But Maedhros had seen enough battle and violence in life to know that there was nothing glorious about it, and it grieved him somewhat to think that the young man might learn the ugly truth sooner than later.
Was it really right of the Eldar to enlist the help of these mortal people in their wars? It was a question which had bothered Maedhros increasingly the more he came to understand about mortal men. He rationalized it in his mind by figuring that Morgoth was just as much a threat to Men as he was to Elves, and besides, there was no time to question that anymore now that Barahir and his House had agreed to join the fight.
Then, Telchar and his son approached, and Maedhros responded to them: "Greetings, Lord Telchar. Thank you again for agreeing to lend us your aid. And it is a pleasure to meet you as well, Firnen. Your father told me much of your skill in metalworking. I greatly look forward to seeing your Dwarvish craftsmanship in action."
Unlike some of the Eldar, Maedhros held a great liking for the Dwarves. Perhaps it was because their skills in smithery reminded him of his father, Fëanor, who had been the most skilled smith amongst the Elves. It made his heart heavy to think of his father's untimely death, and how it might have been prevented if, perhaps, a little better strategy had been used. And hopefully this meeting would prevent such reckless mistakes from happening to anyone else.
There was only one person here with whom Maedhros had not yet personally spoken, and that was Amaniel the Maia. He hoped he would get a chance to greet her properly before the meeting started, but she was also the one that Maedhros felt most wary of. His family didn't have the greatest relationship with the Ainur, especially because of the Oath they had all sworn to recover their stolen Silmarils at all costs, and that they would even oppose the Valar in this quest. Maedhros didn't have the same angst against the Valar and Maiar that his father once had, but he was greatly surprised that any one of them would be interested in joining this alliance knowng that he was in it, and this made him somewhat wary.
Tyelkormo the Fair
Elite
- Joined
- Feb 7, 2023
- Messages
- 4,985
Her words reopened an old wound in his heart.
yes,he who's called Lómion, had always lived in the shadows with no trace of the light he was named after.
in all his years that he had lived ,though not long in the eyes of the elven kind,Lómion had to hide behind the shadow of Maeglin,his father's son.
Maeglin was cold,cruel and collected.a perfect replica of Eöl.
Eöl was a smith,so Maeglin became one.
Eöl hated the light of the sun and the moon,so Maeglin hated them too.
Lómion was different.he liked to ride through the sunlit plains with his mother,wind dancing through his hair.
he liked woving flowers through his mother hair and laughing about anything and everything.
His father had tolerated his behaviors for the few years that he was still young and couldn't yet work at the forges.it was after he was older that the look of utter disappointment clouded Eöl's face every time he looked upon his only child.
So Lómion stopped.he stopped being Lómion. stopped spending much time with Aredhel. he stopped listening about her stories from the Valinor and her family,his family.he stopped being happy.
and it worked.Eöl scowled at him less and less and even started treating his mother better.
he thought he'd be content,to sacrifice his happiness in order to give his family a semblance of normalcy,but he was wrong.
he wasn't content.and apparently neither was Aredhel.she appreciated the father and son having a better relationship but not in expense of this.
and she was restless as well.
she had married Eöl because he was different from the sweet spoken Noldorin Ellyn.she thought their marriage was a promise for adventure not her spending day and night in a place like Nan Elmoth with no light breaking through it.
that's why they had taken the first opportunity they had.Eöl was going to be gone for a long visit to Nogrod when Aredhel first came to him and told him her plan to leave for hithlum.he wasn't thrilled at first,fearing how his father would react,but his mother persuaded him.
"you don't have to live in your father's shadow my love, between the Noldor you can be who you are,who you truly are."
Aredhel had said.
so they left.
and here he was and the Maia's words couldn't be more true.
yes,he who's called Lómion, had always lived in the shadows with no trace of the light he was named after.
in all his years that he had lived ,though not long in the eyes of the elven kind,Lómion had to hide behind the shadow of Maeglin,his father's son.
Maeglin was cold,cruel and collected.a perfect replica of Eöl.
Eöl was a smith,so Maeglin became one.
Eöl hated the light of the sun and the moon,so Maeglin hated them too.
Lómion was different.he liked to ride through the sunlit plains with his mother,wind dancing through his hair.
he liked woving flowers through his mother hair and laughing about anything and everything.
His father had tolerated his behaviors for the few years that he was still young and couldn't yet work at the forges.it was after he was older that the look of utter disappointment clouded Eöl's face every time he looked upon his only child.
So Lómion stopped.he stopped being Lómion. stopped spending much time with Aredhel. he stopped listening about her stories from the Valinor and her family,his family.he stopped being happy.
and it worked.Eöl scowled at him less and less and even started treating his mother better.
he thought he'd be content,to sacrifice his happiness in order to give his family a semblance of normalcy,but he was wrong.
he wasn't content.and apparently neither was Aredhel.she appreciated the father and son having a better relationship but not in expense of this.
and she was restless as well.
she had married Eöl because he was different from the sweet spoken Noldorin Ellyn.she thought their marriage was a promise for adventure not her spending day and night in a place like Nan Elmoth with no light breaking through it.
that's why they had taken the first opportunity they had.Eöl was going to be gone for a long visit to Nogrod when Aredhel first came to him and told him her plan to leave for hithlum.he wasn't thrilled at first,fearing how his father would react,but his mother persuaded him.
"you don't have to live in your father's shadow my love, between the Noldor you can be who you are,who you truly are."
Aredhel had said.
so they left.
and here he was and the Maia's words couldn't be more true.
Elbereth Vala Varda
Writer, poet, child of God
- Joined
- May 22, 2022
- Messages
- 3,954
Finrod smiled casually, trying to ignore the growing feeling of doubt gnawing at him. Fingon seemed genuinely approving of the large gesture of respect, but somehow, Finrod couldn't put it out of his head that he had 'messed something up' and had surely overwhelmed his cousin, if not humiliated him or worse. So, to quell that feeling, much as it may have seemed awkward, he bowed once more, this time lower but not discernably so. "I am sorry to have surprised you." He said, the words sounding to him like a pathetic cover-up. "I didn't mean that to be the case. I just wanted to honor you. You are noble. So, so very noble." He nods. "A true and valiant example of the shining glory of Arda, at last undimmed in the breaking of the dawn. For your goodness is akin to that of Valinor, and your justice as the Eldar of old in Cuiviénen."
He now became aware, by his past bit of speech, that he was struggling very much so to say anything that was not direct praise of Findekano. He hoped dearly that it was not overdone, so as to appear a fraud and without sincerity, and he hoped that it didn't appear needy, as if Nargothrond was falling to ruin and Finrod was using flattery to appease his remaining allies. But his thoughts loosened, deepening in the conversation. Distractions were very welcome to him, of course, due to his perhaps overbearing sense of peace and equality. Everything had to be said just so, or he would inwardly chastise himself for it till the end of time. But, enough of that for the moment. It was time to relax and enjoy this conversation. He would drive himself into madness if he didn't quiet his mind for a moment and put away the thoughts that he could be destroying connection with Fingon.
He smiled, nodding. "Yes, yes, indeed! I would love for you to see it. Both of them, I might mark. Menegroth is by no means lesser in beauty or magnificence." He turns another slight comment directed specifically at Maedhros. "Ah, and Maedhros, you mention that it fares well-, and rightly do you say such a thing, for indeed it does. But Nargothrond would never have been mine despite for the goodness of King Thingol. It was he who took me and counseled me about the deep gorge flowing by the river Narog." He turns a slight smirk. "So, you are in fact complimenting King Thingol on his wisdom and excellence," He adds in a bit lower voice, "or at least you ought to be." After that slight remark, he turned back to Fingon. "Trade with the Naugrim has been well. The Dwarves of the Blue Mountains are never lacking in their generosity and goodness. You might indeed say that they are almost too benevolent," He flashed a nod in the direction of Telchar and Firnen, for they were good friends of his. "They have even given me the title of Felagund." He shook his head, still in disbelief at such a name being given to him.
It still seemed so unbelievable, truly. It wasn't like he had believed that Dwarves couldn't be allied with. He had always thought deep down in his heart of hearts that they were as capable of loving and receiving love as any other race, and that surely, they must have bonds and civil standards and morality and truth, just like the Eldar. And he thought the same of Men. Different races? Indeed. But why did that matter? So, one lived into their hundreds and the other for many ages of the world. Besides the obvious grief that would be stricken upon Elves who allied with the Men, there was little other harm. And grief, he believed, was of course a virtue of sorts. The Eldar did not look upon mourning as shameful, but rather as restorative and healing, bringing closure and peace, and above all, honor for the lost one. So, no. It wasn't any of that which made him so shocked. It was his role in all of it. He never, never in a thousand ages of this world had imagined himself a bridge and mediator between three races. It seemed unimaginable, and yet, here he was. Esteemed by Dwarves, honored by Men, and friend, close friend, to both. What an honor and what a role. But most of all, what a responsibility and blessing. Speaking of responsibility, isn't it time he ought to welcome the people he united?
He walked closer to the Dwarves and Men, hoping to make his presence known to some degree and to welcome them with love and dignity. "Hail ye, Barahir!" He exclaimed, turning his gaze to the man standing before him. "How does all fare with you? Are your people well?" A smile spreads on his face, and he speaks again, but this time in Sindarin. For he had taught Barahir's people the language. "Bain suilad!" ("Good greetings!") And he turned also to Telchar and Firnen, and spoke, "Well met, Telchar." He bowed, extending his hand. "It is good to see you again, and Firnen also. May I thank you for the good you have brought to Nargothrond. Your skill in craft of architecture is not rivaled by any."
And with all of these relations that he had reminded himself he ought to be doing, he completely ignored the discussion with Fingon until he was interrupted by it and tried to remember what they had been speaking about. Ah, yes. Maedhros. "Isn't it obvious?" He responded. "Maedhros is a fine Eldar, and personally, I have nothing truly against him," He touched one hand to his heart in sincerity. "But don't we all just know that he or any of his brothers would make a terrible king? Why, to have a Son of Feanor, to have Maedhros, as High King of the Noldor would be a virtual death sentence upon her honor!" He recognized that his voice may have been a bit loud in that statement and hushed it down farther. "I say no ill thing about him. He is fine at doing," He gestured with his hands. "These, sorts of things, and gathering participants for a meeting is one thing, and he's fine at it. But as king?" He scoffed. "I would not want Maedhros or any of his brothers within a hundred leagues of the throne. Their father already proved my point, so I don't think I have to."
Mulling over it, he realized that his last statement could have been a bit blunt. It was, after all, about Maedhros who was apparently a very good friend of Fingon. And, Finrod being the Eldar that he was, he couldn't put it aside. No, he had to try and fix it, or at least do it some justice in his mind so that everything could be cleared. And so, he made his attempt. "Fingon, truly I mean no offense. I know that you love Maedhros like a brother. And I have known him well, also. He is more considerate than most of his kin, and however low that end might be, he has at least surpassed it. But surely you must understand that we would not want him as a king. The idea is simply preposterous." He paused. "I don't mean it as any backhanded insult, or crude remark about his character. For what I know him, and for what it's worth, he's a fine Eldar. But would I trust him to rule my realm? When his father did such heinous crimes and he participated? Absolutely not. The answer in fact, must be no."
Fingolfin laughed. "Everything organized? I had better. This meeting must be just so, and it must go according to plan. I don't think you fully know this, but the amount of things that could go wrong," He gave a deep, heavy sigh. "It is unnumbered, and countless. What, with a Maia, Dwarves, Elves, Men, Houses that have separated for ages upon end..." He shook his head, looking down. "I trust you have made all the relations, spoken with everyone, made them feel welcome? Told them that they can mention anything? I do indeed want this to be a successful Council. And that of course, must mean that I have allowed for questions and concerns and so much else."
He took Fingon's hand, pulling him into a warm embrace. "Son," He muttered. "I must tell you; I cannot do this meeting without you. I may be the High King of the Noldor, but that is a title that I can only bear with the help of all of you." He looked around at the others, murmuring. "Ai, that would be a good remark for me to make in the beginning address." And then looked back down at his son. "Fingon Findekano... What a son you are to be proud of."
Everything was almost set. The papers were in order on his desk and the beginnings of his address and the notes which he had hoped to cover were written on parchment. The guests had arrived, the Council was almost in motion. But Fingolfin was not distracted by all of this for very long. His heart was in the right place. In knowing that he was not worthy of the title he had been granted, and not worthy of his high place in the Council, but that he would serve for the good of all Beleriand. And that he would be noble and not hold grudges against any. Not the Men, nor the Dwarves, nor the Houses which he had so disliked for they disliked him. All rivalry, all anger, all angst was placed aside. Only one thing mattered. Unite or fail. This was a day that had to be peaceful, it had to be uniting and not separating. It had to be perfect.
He now became aware, by his past bit of speech, that he was struggling very much so to say anything that was not direct praise of Findekano. He hoped dearly that it was not overdone, so as to appear a fraud and without sincerity, and he hoped that it didn't appear needy, as if Nargothrond was falling to ruin and Finrod was using flattery to appease his remaining allies. But his thoughts loosened, deepening in the conversation. Distractions were very welcome to him, of course, due to his perhaps overbearing sense of peace and equality. Everything had to be said just so, or he would inwardly chastise himself for it till the end of time. But, enough of that for the moment. It was time to relax and enjoy this conversation. He would drive himself into madness if he didn't quiet his mind for a moment and put away the thoughts that he could be destroying connection with Fingon.
He smiled, nodding. "Yes, yes, indeed! I would love for you to see it. Both of them, I might mark. Menegroth is by no means lesser in beauty or magnificence." He turns another slight comment directed specifically at Maedhros. "Ah, and Maedhros, you mention that it fares well-, and rightly do you say such a thing, for indeed it does. But Nargothrond would never have been mine despite for the goodness of King Thingol. It was he who took me and counseled me about the deep gorge flowing by the river Narog." He turns a slight smirk. "So, you are in fact complimenting King Thingol on his wisdom and excellence," He adds in a bit lower voice, "or at least you ought to be." After that slight remark, he turned back to Fingon. "Trade with the Naugrim has been well. The Dwarves of the Blue Mountains are never lacking in their generosity and goodness. You might indeed say that they are almost too benevolent," He flashed a nod in the direction of Telchar and Firnen, for they were good friends of his. "They have even given me the title of Felagund." He shook his head, still in disbelief at such a name being given to him.
It still seemed so unbelievable, truly. It wasn't like he had believed that Dwarves couldn't be allied with. He had always thought deep down in his heart of hearts that they were as capable of loving and receiving love as any other race, and that surely, they must have bonds and civil standards and morality and truth, just like the Eldar. And he thought the same of Men. Different races? Indeed. But why did that matter? So, one lived into their hundreds and the other for many ages of the world. Besides the obvious grief that would be stricken upon Elves who allied with the Men, there was little other harm. And grief, he believed, was of course a virtue of sorts. The Eldar did not look upon mourning as shameful, but rather as restorative and healing, bringing closure and peace, and above all, honor for the lost one. So, no. It wasn't any of that which made him so shocked. It was his role in all of it. He never, never in a thousand ages of this world had imagined himself a bridge and mediator between three races. It seemed unimaginable, and yet, here he was. Esteemed by Dwarves, honored by Men, and friend, close friend, to both. What an honor and what a role. But most of all, what a responsibility and blessing. Speaking of responsibility, isn't it time he ought to welcome the people he united?
He walked closer to the Dwarves and Men, hoping to make his presence known to some degree and to welcome them with love and dignity. "Hail ye, Barahir!" He exclaimed, turning his gaze to the man standing before him. "How does all fare with you? Are your people well?" A smile spreads on his face, and he speaks again, but this time in Sindarin. For he had taught Barahir's people the language. "Bain suilad!" ("Good greetings!") And he turned also to Telchar and Firnen, and spoke, "Well met, Telchar." He bowed, extending his hand. "It is good to see you again, and Firnen also. May I thank you for the good you have brought to Nargothrond. Your skill in craft of architecture is not rivaled by any."
And with all of these relations that he had reminded himself he ought to be doing, he completely ignored the discussion with Fingon until he was interrupted by it and tried to remember what they had been speaking about. Ah, yes. Maedhros. "Isn't it obvious?" He responded. "Maedhros is a fine Eldar, and personally, I have nothing truly against him," He touched one hand to his heart in sincerity. "But don't we all just know that he or any of his brothers would make a terrible king? Why, to have a Son of Feanor, to have Maedhros, as High King of the Noldor would be a virtual death sentence upon her honor!" He recognized that his voice may have been a bit loud in that statement and hushed it down farther. "I say no ill thing about him. He is fine at doing," He gestured with his hands. "These, sorts of things, and gathering participants for a meeting is one thing, and he's fine at it. But as king?" He scoffed. "I would not want Maedhros or any of his brothers within a hundred leagues of the throne. Their father already proved my point, so I don't think I have to."
Mulling over it, he realized that his last statement could have been a bit blunt. It was, after all, about Maedhros who was apparently a very good friend of Fingon. And, Finrod being the Eldar that he was, he couldn't put it aside. No, he had to try and fix it, or at least do it some justice in his mind so that everything could be cleared. And so, he made his attempt. "Fingon, truly I mean no offense. I know that you love Maedhros like a brother. And I have known him well, also. He is more considerate than most of his kin, and however low that end might be, he has at least surpassed it. But surely you must understand that we would not want him as a king. The idea is simply preposterous." He paused. "I don't mean it as any backhanded insult, or crude remark about his character. For what I know him, and for what it's worth, he's a fine Eldar. But would I trust him to rule my realm? When his father did such heinous crimes and he participated? Absolutely not. The answer in fact, must be no."
Fingolfin laughed. "Everything organized? I had better. This meeting must be just so, and it must go according to plan. I don't think you fully know this, but the amount of things that could go wrong," He gave a deep, heavy sigh. "It is unnumbered, and countless. What, with a Maia, Dwarves, Elves, Men, Houses that have separated for ages upon end..." He shook his head, looking down. "I trust you have made all the relations, spoken with everyone, made them feel welcome? Told them that they can mention anything? I do indeed want this to be a successful Council. And that of course, must mean that I have allowed for questions and concerns and so much else."
He took Fingon's hand, pulling him into a warm embrace. "Son," He muttered. "I must tell you; I cannot do this meeting without you. I may be the High King of the Noldor, but that is a title that I can only bear with the help of all of you." He looked around at the others, murmuring. "Ai, that would be a good remark for me to make in the beginning address." And then looked back down at his son. "Fingon Findekano... What a son you are to be proud of."
Everything was almost set. The papers were in order on his desk and the beginnings of his address and the notes which he had hoped to cover were written on parchment. The guests had arrived, the Council was almost in motion. But Fingolfin was not distracted by all of this for very long. His heart was in the right place. In knowing that he was not worthy of the title he had been granted, and not worthy of his high place in the Council, but that he would serve for the good of all Beleriand. And that he would be noble and not hold grudges against any. Not the Men, nor the Dwarves, nor the Houses which he had so disliked for they disliked him. All rivalry, all anger, all angst was placed aside. Only one thing mattered. Unite or fail. This was a day that had to be peaceful, it had to be uniting and not separating. It had to be perfect.
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