Dancing In The Dark by Grundy

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Little Star

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Finderato watched his young ‘nephew’ as Artanis tried to both keep the boy happy and eat her own meal at the same time.

He had elected not to inflict a formal dinner in the great hall on her so soon. They wouldn’t be able to put it off forever – Artanis was nearly as popular with his people as he was himself, and to keep her in seclusion would cause grumbling even if she hadn’t just done something as remarkable as turn up with an unexpected child.

But he also hadn’t thought it wise to have a family-only dinner this first night either. Not when so many had gotten a glimpse of little Gildor, and his halls were surely buzzing about it. So several of his trusted counselors and retainers were dining with them in the small hall. That at least would show they were making no attempt to conceal the boy, or acting as if there were anything odd about his presence.

Well, odder, anyway. It was rather remarkable that Artanis should be even a milk mother as Celeborn termed it. Some of his people were Sindarin, for not all wished to remain behind the Girdle, and they seemed to recognize the term. He meant to ask Celeborn more about it when he could do so privately.

Little Gilya had silver hair and grey eyes that would not have been out of place were he Artë’s own blood, and a cheerful disposition. He was also clearly at ease with the three who had brought him to Nargothrond. The boy had better luck than many in these shadowed lands, to be spared whatever had befallen his parents and then brought to a place of safety.

He was amused to notice his captain of the guard was engaging the baby, allowing a grateful Artanis to finish her salad. Perhaps he should help…

“Here, Artë,” he said quietly. “Why don’t I hold him a bit so you can eat? I’m sure I haven’t forgotten how to keep a child that age happy for a little while.”

Artanis was slightly reluctant to pass the boy over, but he left her little choice, reaching for the child before she could figure out a graceful form of protest. He smothered the thought that she was as nervous as if the boy were her own, lest she catch it – and his amusement at her nerves.

“There, Gilya, why don’t we let your Ammë eat? You sit with me and play prince for a bit, there’s a good lad.” In a stage whisper he added, “All you have to do for now is smile at everyone!”

The baby squealed delightedly and did just that.

“He’s a charming one, isn’t he, my king?” the quartermaster beamed. “It’s easy enough to see why the princess is so taken with him.”

He blew an obliging raspberry for Gildor, who came as close to giggling as such a young child could.

Finderato smiled indulgently and booped the boy gently on the nose, provoking another not-quite-giggle, along with a burble of happy nonsense.

“He likes you,” Curvo pointed out with a lopsided grin.

“He seems to like people in general,” Finderato observed.

He decided not to mention that the boy felt like kin, like his own nephew, not some foundling. That was another thing that would have to wait until they were among their own. But he found it rather disquieting.

Was there more to the boy than Artanis had let on?

“I’m glad the young one will stay here for the time being,” his steward declared. “It’s too terrible to imagine taking such a young child on a journey. I can’t think what drove his parents to such a risk, especially when it’s known both here and in the Falas that the area he was found in is less safe than we should like.”

“Perhaps they were coming down from Nevrast,” the captain of the guard suggested. “Some do still go up there from time to time, hoping to find some trace of their kin who disappeared with Prince Turukano. If the child came into the light earlier than expected…”

“Stress can bring labor on early,” the steward agreed with a troubled look. “Perhaps they knew the beasts of Angband were on their trail.”

“Oh, please let’s not start that up again,” groaned his treasurer. “You did the topic to death already over the starter course. No matter what their motivation or how it happened, we know a small party traveling with a young child was caught out by orcs and likely killed.”

“Let us hope they were so lucky,” the quartermaster muttered.

Finderato and his guests had discussed in some detail at the outset of the meal where and how Artanis had found her fosterling, and he had resolved to send out an armed party with some of his better trackers to see if anything more could be found of the boy’s parents or where they had come from.

Celeborn had freely admitted that with only three of them, he and Curufinwë judged it too risky to search very long or widely for what had become of them – especially with signs of a fight so close at hand. They thought it more prudent to get the baby safely to Nargothrond as swiftly as possible.

Celeborn had also had to not only show but explain his handiwork, which despite being what he termed ‘hasty’ and ‘plain’ had occasioned much comment from Finderato’s lords – or at least, from the Noldorin lords. The Sindarin among them seemed inclined to agree with Celeborn’s assessment.

His quartermaster had actually offered to assist in the making of a better cradleboard, should one be necessary, but Artanis demurred at once.

“I understand from my husband that such things are used only for the youngest children,” she said. “As I expect to remain here some months visiting with my brother, I have every hope that by the time I travel again, Gildor will no longer need one.”

Finderato had privately resolved to make a Lindarin cradle for the boy, and meant to enlist Curvo and Celeborn to help. Foster or blood, the boy was the grandson of Eärwen of Alqualondë and should have the same style cradle as her children and her grandson.

The actual cradle they had all slept in remained in Tirion, but he had recently helped Ango construct a similar one for his granddaughter. Unfortunately, with Gildor nearly the same age as Resto’s daughter, they couldn’t very well pass that one from child to child as had been done with the cradle Eärwen’s brothers had made for her first child, which had later been used by Ango, Aiko, Artë, and Resto in turn.

Gildor chose that moment to favor him with a toothless smile, one he couldn’t help noting was a hopeful imitation of Artë’s.

“You take after your Ammë, don’t you?” Finderato murmured as the main course arrived.

Conversation turned from the mystery of Gildor’s parents and their fate to the ongoing repercussions of Thingol’s actions. Through it all, the baby somehow stayed ensconced on Finderato’s lap until the cheeses and fruits were brought, at which point he fussed until he was handed back to Artë.

Dinner rapidly wound down with fond looks from his lords and advice to ‘not tire the baby with too much excitement on his first evening here!’

“As if I could,” Finderato snorted. “He’s still young enough that he’ll sleep when he’s tired, no matter what everyone else around him is doing.”

He bid his lords a pleasant evening, then led Curvo, Artë, and Celeborn – who he really hoped to find a short name for before long – into his study.

Little Gilya’s eyelids were already heavy, and Finderato knew the baby would drop off once he was fed.

Even if the process of feeding was still a bit startling to him…

You’re looking as if I’d grown an extra limb, his sister said wryly.

Sorry, he replied. It’s just not fully sunk in yet, you with a baby. Even if it does look surprisingly natural. I don’t think anyone back home would have expected you to take to motherhood so quickly!

She laughed, but softly, so as not disturb an increasingly drowsy Gildor.

“Your uncle is very silly, Gilya,” she murmured.

“True,” Finderato agreed, “but only because poor uncle Ingo has not had very much practice at being an uncle lately! Your cousin Artaresto is already grown and just had a baby of his own.”

“Oh, we forgot all about Resto and Merilin!” Artanis gasped in dismay.

Celeborn looked concerned, as well he might, since Artaresto’s wife was his younger cousin.

“Little Finduilas came into the light nine months ago," Finderato reassured them, "and Resto speaks of wishing to bring her here. He feels this will be both safer and more wholesome a place for a child than Tol Sirion, and I wholeheartedly agree with him.”

Not only was Nargothrond’s location known only to a loyal few beyond those who made their home within its halls, it was much farther from Angband, well behind the protective cordon of Noldorin realms in the North. Mithrim had only the mountains between it and the wide plains of Ard-galen, which would be all too easy for Morgoth to cross at speed…

“Speaks only?” Celeborn asked in surprise.  “I wonder that they are not here already. I would be, were I in his place and it were my daughter.”

Finderato tried to keep his response light, though it was no laughing matter.

“I fear having just traveled with this charming little fellow, you underestimate how reluctant most Noldor are – and my uncle in particular – to allow such a young child to be taken on such a journey!”

Quite aside from the dangers of Beleriand, Uncle Nolo and all who had marched with him had too many bad memories of what had happened to the littlest ones on the Ice. The reaction at Mithrim to the idea of taking a young child on any long journey was one of absolute horror - in fact, he was already wondering if there was any way to not tell their uncle about where and how Gildor had been found, as it would likely complicate matters. Uncle was already objecting strenuously to the idea of little Finduilas being removed from Mithrim. 

Ango and Resto felt the risk of the journey worth it when it meant Finduilas could then remain in what promised to be the safest Noldorin realm until she was grown, but they were not the ones who had the final say. Ango had written that he hoped once his granddaughter was old enough to walk, they might convince their uncle she could safely make the trip in the summer, for he was as keen as his son to see his law-daughter and first grandchild as safe as possible. He had asked his older brother's assistance in the matter - and reminding their uncle what could still befall travelers even this far south would be the opposite of helping.

“I suppose my disappearing as I did has made things more difficult for them,” Artanis murmured ruefully. “I should have thought on that, and gone with Ango and Aiko instead.”

Finderato snorted.

“They wouldn’t have taken you to Tol Sirion, and you know it, Artë,” he told her shortly. “It was always a choice between Mithrim or here. Though you should have had an escort for the journey."

"I had an escort," she sniffed. "Or does Curvo not count?"

"That's not what 'escort' means, and you know it," he said firmly. "But Uncle would have been reluctant to allow an infant to travel no matter what.”

“If you want to regret anything, regret our aunt,” Curvo put in solemnly.

“Our aunt?” she asked in confusion. “Why, what could have happened to Irimë?”

Finderato would have told her, but Curvo took the plunge, relating what they’d discussed earlier in a few terse sentences.

Artanis cuddled Gildor to her almost defiantly.

“Aunt Irimë can’t possibly be dead,” she said mulishly. “Uncle would know. We would know, too!”

Finderato sighed inwardly. Would that saying it could make it so.

“We might not,” he pointed out as gently as he could. “And you’ve been among the Sindar long enough to know that ‘not dead’ isn’t always a good thing.”

Celeborn shot him a rather fierce glare, evidently judging his wife didn’t need such a reminder at the moment, but Finderato was unrepentant.

If Artë was troubled by any pangs of guilt or regret, he hoped it might teach her to think more carefully the next time she was tempted to do something so foolish. This wasn’t Tirion, and they weren’t children anymore. There were real consequences for their mistakes, far more severe than anything they’d ever faced or even imagined in Aman. He wouldn’t scold, but he wasn’t going to hide the outcome of her actions from her.

“I want you to write to Uncle tomorrow,” he continued. “What else you say to him is your own business, but I'm sure he would prefer to hear from you that you are safe and where you have been all this time.”

“I’ll write as well,” Curvo sighed. “The fault wasn’t hers alone. I should have sent word and didn’t.”

“As you will,” Finderato shrugged. “You should probably also send word to your brothers what has kept you. I can’t imagine they were expecting the annual message run to Mithrim to drag on this long.”

“Of course,” Curvo agreed. “I expect I’m due quite the tongue-lashing from Tyelko, and I’d best put in something for Tyelpë as well.”

“You’re not thinking of rushing off, I hope?” Finderato asked, worried that perhaps he’d given Curvo the impression he needed to hurry back North. “You’ve only just arrived, and with autumn coming on, I’d rest easier if you waited until spring to travel. The last thing we need is for you to be caught out by storms in Nan Dungortheb.”

Curvo snorted.

“I was actually hoping you wouldn’t mind me staying here, and picking your brain or possibly your map room if you have one,” he replied. “I’ve a mind to try going around to the south and east of Thingol’s kingdom rather than trek back north to take the road.”

Finderato smiled, following his cousin’s thought easily.

They needed to have more than one route between their lands – otherwise cutting off the road would cut Curvo and his brothers off from anyone but Ango and Aiko. And even there, crossing the mountains that separated Dorthonion from Dor Dinen or Aglon was not something anyone had attempted yet. Both needed to be investigated, and preferably now, in times of peace.

It wouldn’t do to wait until Morgoth was attacking to think about such things.

But rather than discuss such things in front of Celeborn, which might put his law-brother in an awkward position given his loyalty to Thingol, he laughed.

“I might have known there would be no sending you off when there’s a little one around,” he said cheerfully. “There’ll be no getting rid of you before he’s walking at least.”

“I’d stay until he’s grown if I weren’t needed in Himlad,” Curvo replied, answering in kind. “In fact, if you’re intending to bring young Finduilas here, I’d almost say Tyelpë should come as well, if this is to be where we’re keeping the youngsters.”

“He’ll be thrilled to hear you want to class him with the babies,” Artë sniffed. “He’s of age. He’ll probably be upset you don’t think he’s an adult yet.”

“He’s still a boy, and I’ll thank you not to rush him into adulthood,” Curvo said firmly. “You might as well call this one an adolescent!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she protested immediately. “Gilya’s a baby!”

“Good, I’ll wait the better part of a yen and ask you then if you think he’s an adult,” Curvo offered. “See how you feel about it when it’s your little one.”

Celeborn was trying to laugh without being noticed, but Finderato thought Artanis’ glare didn’t bode well for Curvo’s continued health.

“Peace, you two,” he said indulgently. “You’re both right – Artë, he’s technically an adult, but he’s a young adult. At his age, you and Irissë were taking it in turns with Ambarussa to see who could get in the most creative form of trouble.”

Her baleful look was directed at him now.

“You’re all ridiculous,” she announced. “Except possibly Celeborn.”

Curvo evidently had a death wish, because he chose to laugh.

“Celeborn agrees with us, he’s just too sensible to say so.”

“I really don’t know how the three of you made it to Nargothrond without bloodshed for all the bickering,” Finderato marveled. “Is this the secret to keeping orcs away?”

“Perhaps,” Celeborn smiled. “Shall I take him, beloved? He’s fast asleep now, and it would leave your hands free to throw things at your brother and your cousin.”

“Yes- wait, what?” Finderato demanded in mock outrage.

“No, thank you, my love,” she replied. “I think I shall put him to bed. And I may sleep myself. He is not the only one who has had a long day.”

The three neri rose politely as she stood, and Celeborn kissed her and Gildor both – which reminded Finderato that he could probably get away with the same, although his kiss was to his sister’s forehead rather than her lips. Curvo managed to sneak in a kiss for the baby as well before Artë departed.

“Well, that went well,” Curvo said with relief as the three sat back down.

“Well?” Finderato asked in surprise.

“We’ve managed not to work her up about what will happen to the boy,” Curvo shrugged.

“Why should she be worried?” Finderato asked. “She’s welcome to stay here with him as long as she likes.”

“And when my uncle inevitably announces that he has forgiven her and we are welcome back in Menegroth?” Celeborn asked with a sigh. “At that point, not returning will risk starting the entire fight over again.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Finderato shrugged. “Unless you expect he’s going to turn reasonable in the next few seasons, I don’t see why she needs to trouble herself about it just yet.”

He paused.

“On the other hand, we probably should make a start on repairing the breach between us and Uncle Elu if it can be managed. It’s hopeless to ask Artë to write, but perhaps you might send word to Doriath, Celeborn?”

Celeborn nodded.

“I will say nothing of Galadriel just yet, but I will mention where I am. If he can’t guess I speak for both of us, Aunt Melian certainly will.”

Finderato smiled.

“You’ll write to Doriath, Artë’s writing to Mithrim, Curvo is writing his brothers, and I suppose that leaves me to break the news to Ango and Aiko that they have a new nephew.”

He paused in dismay as it hit him.

“They’re going to think I’m playing some sort of elaborate prank, aren’t they?”

Both his cousin and his law-brother laughed and wished him luck.