Unexpected Nesting by Kaylee Arafinwiel

"Elwing?"

The Lady of Aewellond and last Queen of Doriath glanced up as her husband walked into the room she was arranging. "Yes, Earendil?"

"What is...all this?" He tilted his head to one side, studying it. The walls still proudly displayed the collections of unique feathers the denizens of the Bird-haven had brought, each with a name of its kind underneath (and more often than not, the name of the bird that had donated it. Elwing's bird-speech was exceptional by now.) But there were additions here and there he didn't recall. Shelves full of folded cloths. A pile of smooth stones in one corner.

Elwing's writing desk had been shifted aside to make room for...well, a nest was all he could call it. Basket seemed too...orderly for what it was. The collection of twigs and grasses was an odd meeting of a wild jumble with, still, some sense of tidiness to it. Each piece had been laid with purpose, even if it didn't seem so at first look. And in the nest... Earendil took a step back as Elwing darted in front of it. "Beloved..."

She spread her arms out, crouching protectively in front of the nest.

"Elwing," Earendil said patiently, his blue eyes trained on her grey. "Whatever you are hiding, you know you need not hide from me. You are my beloved, and have been since we met as children."

The Lady of Aewellond sighed, sinking to her knees. "Earendil..."

"Yes, mell nin?" He came to kiss her, wrapping Elwing in his arms and holding her tightly. Then he peeked over her shoulder at the two large eggs, one brown and one pale grey, both mottled with black spots that lay there. "Whose are those?" he inquired lightly.

Elwing exhaled slowly, looking up at Earendil apprehensively. "Ours."

"When you say ours," Earendil said slowly. "Do you mean you adopted some orphaned eggs, melethril?"

Elwing exhaled. "No. I mean, ours," she repeated more forcefully. "I...the last time you were home we..."

Oh. "I remember," Earendil said slowly. "So then..."

"I conceived," Elwing said. "But when you were gone again, I was lonesome. I shifted, without thinking, and..."

Earendil paused. "You...these...you really mean ours." He looked at Elwing. "Are they...will they hatch?"

"Lord Eonwe says so," Elwing whispered. "He says they live."

Earendil sat down on Elwing's desk chair, mind reeling. "Ours," he murmured again. Elwing nodded.

Time passed, and Elwing guarded the eggs carefully. Only two did she let near - Eärendil, of course, and a great Eagle who at times would come through the window to rest on the pile of stones as it were an eyrie. He would pluck a feather here, a piece of down there, and place it in the nest. At last, the first of the eggs began to crack, with Elwing in gull-shape, nearly swan-sized, and the Eagle watching over it protectively. Earendil sat by, feeling like an outsider, but as Elwing encouraged him he drew nearer. The great egg burst open, and inside was a chick and...a smaller egg. The eagle nudged the chick away, and Elwing watched the smaller egg intently as it began to crack open.

"An eaglet," Earendil raised an eyebrow at Elwing as the second chick emerged. This was a gull, and Earendil watched as the second large egg began to open. He was almost unsurprised to find a second small egg inside it, too. The first eaglet began preening the second, cleaning it of egg, while the gull chick helped its sibling to emerge. At last, four chicks were fully revealed, Elwing and the eagle clearing away the broken shell. Elwing let the Eagle take over cleaning the chicks, and resumed her natural form.

"Eärendil..."

"Eaglets," Eärendil looked at the two larger chicks. "You said Lord Eonwe told you the eggs would live. Did he tell you there would be four?"

"No," Elwing said, blushing. "He also did not tell me how he would make sure our eggs would live."

"They are yours and mine, are they not?" Eärendil asked.

The Eagle finished cleaning the chicks, and then, suddenly, the light in the room became too bright even for Eärendil to look at for a brief moment, the heady scent of wildflowers mingling with the tang of sea wind that always surrounded Aewellond. The Mariner blinked, clearing his vision as the light dissipated, and then went to one knee, eyes wide. "Lord Eönwë!" He had not expected the Maia to appear in such a form, though perhaps he should have, Eärendil thought dizzily.

"Be at peace, Lord Eärendil," Eönwë replied calmly. "Your question is a fair one, and I have not come to chastise but to instruct. The children your wife has borne are yours, but in my haste to ensure they would indeed live in this state, I may have...been over-enthusiastic." He gave an apologetic shrug. "The...division of the eggs was unintentional. Yet it has happened."

"So..." Eärendil said slowly. "The eaglets...they are yours?"

"Unintentional, as I said," Eönwë said. "Yet, no child is begotten but that Eru wills it."

Eärendil frowned slightly, trying to work that out. "You said 'children'," he said. "But are they then Peredhil?" The two fathers approached the nest in which the chicks lay.

"Touch them," Eönwë instructed Eärendil. He did so, and under Eärendil's touch the chicks shimmered, forms twisting, reshaping themselves in a sheen of sparkling light. When the lights faded, Eärendil stepped back, startled.

Four babies lay in the nest; two boys and two girls. One boy and one girl were larger than the other two, with silver-gold hair so pale it was nearly white, and eyes bright as stars. The smaller babies had a dusting of dark hair, looking much as Elros and Elrond had as newborns, with bright blue eyes that might, if they were like their elder brothers, darken to grey ere long.

"Their eyes will not change," Eönwë told the Mariner. "They are your eyes, not Elwing's."

"I am happy they have something of yours, my love," Elwing said, looking at her children in wonder, and back to Eärendil. "I...only thought there would be two, but four..."

"They are ours," Eärendil said quietly. "They may have two fathers, but so do their brothers."

Elwing regarded her babies with alternating feelings of joy and concern. She could only nurse two, and Eönwë had seen this would be a problem at once. Their first visitor after the hatching was a graceful albatross, who shed her avian form to stand before them in the shape of the former first Queen of Doriath.

"Daeriel."

"Daernana Melian." Elwing smiled in relief at her mentor and teacher in the ways of birds. "I...um..." Her relief faded somewhat under the Maia's regard. "Did Lord Eönwë..."

"I understand how elflings are made, daeriel-laes," Melian said with a chuckle. "I understand how this came about, as well. You will have no censure from me. Eönwë has explained his role in this and his only intent was to keep your children alive. None fault him for his...enthusiasm."

Elwing nodded. "I will need a wetnurse. I cannot handle four."

"Hmm. Eönwë asked me to help you. Will that be acceptable, daeriel?" Melian asked, and Elwing nodded gratefully. It did not surprise her that Melian took the half-Maiar to her breast. The Lady of Aewellond saw to feeding her smaller son and daughter, stroking their downy dark hair as they nursed. When all four had been seen to, all their needs met, they were tucked back in the nest. Melian and Elwing resumed their seats on the low couch by the nest, and Elwing exhaled, shuddering.

"Daernana..."

"Hmm?" Melian patted her shoulder comfortingly. "What is it you fear, child?"

"What will...everyone say?" Elwing's face was pale as she turned to Melian. "They think Eärendil and I odd enough already as we are. Now this..."

"Everyone. Hmm, yes," Melian murmured. "I often worried about what 'everyone' would think when I came home to Aman after so long away, as well. But I realised I could never be sorry for staying for Elu and Luthien - or for leaving once they were gone. I was bound to them, not to Arda or even to Doriath. Once they were no more, my life was here."

"If you had stayed, maybe the Sons of Feanor wouldn't--" Elwing hushed when Melian touched a finger to her lips.

"Now, let's not start that again," she said. "They cannot touch you here, they cannot touch these children. You wanted to know what everyone will say about these children. I imagine at the Naming Day, you will find out." Melian raised an eyebrow at Elwing. "Had you and Eärendil considered names at all?"

Elwing regarded the four - eagle and seagull, four chicks huddled together again - and shrugged slightly. "A little," she said. "No doubt the...shifting should be considered, and Lord Eönwë ought to have a say."

"Indeed. Lord Eönwë certainly ought to have a say," Melian agreed with a nod.

Elwing and Melian kept each other and the babies company while Eärendil was gone, and Eönwë visited whenever he could. So the first week passed.

On Valanya, a trembling Elwing made ready. The babies were quiescent, carried one by each of them - Elwing with her small daughter in her arms, Melian carrying the larger. Eönwë and Eärendil each carried their own son. The Naming Day ceremony was to be held in Valmar, in the mansion of Ulmo.

Eönwë had been surprised at Elwing's request. "Lord Ulmo?" he repeated. "But surely my Lord Manwë..."

"I do hope the Elder King shall not be offended," Elwing had replied. "Of course I have no doubt all the Valar would like to be there, as well as whichever Maiar they wish to bring. But Lord Ulmo has been a...guardian of our family, shall we say, and I would be most grateful to the Lord of Waters if he would host us."

Eönwë had become less 'present' as he made the effort to ask Ulmo, and 'returned' with an answer, thoroughly surprised. "He said "Yes, of course, where else?"

Earendil laughed at that. So now, they entered Valmar and headed for the great mansion of Lord Ulmo. It was built of coral and sea-glass, and roofed with seashells; a gate made of a single giant pearl swung open to admit them. Situated in the center of a great lake, the only way to reach the mansion was by crossing great stepping-stones formed of giant sea-turtle shells. Eonwe and Melian made the crossing without difficulty, Earendil and Elwing only a little less sure of their footing than the Maiar. Salmar, Lord Ulmo's Chief Maia and steward, showed them into the great throne room, where Ulmo sat amid basins that caught the seawater dripping from his hair, beard, and clothing.

Also present were Ingwe Ingaran and Queen Elindis, Olwë Lindaran and Queen Lirillë, and Arafinwë Noldòran with Queen Eärwen. Ingwion, Lindarion, and Findaráto were there as their parents' heirs. Eärendil and Elwing were, it turned out, the last to arrive. As the Peredhil greeted their relatives, then made their obeisance to the Lord of Waters, the thirteen other Valar made their presence known in a shimmer of light too bright for the Elves to look at. Each had their Chief Maia with them, save for Lord Manwë, who had Fionwë at his side. Eönwë looked surprised by this.

"But, my Lord..."

"You have your own part to play in this, my son," the Elder King said with a brief smile, his bright blue eyes ringed with gold radiating joy.

"My...oh," Eönwë tried not to blush, but found it difficult. Lord Ulmo rose, purple eyes sweeping the assembled. "Today is a joyous day," he said, smiling. "We receive among us the children of the Lord Eärendil, son of Ondolindë-That-Was, and of the Lady Elwing, last Queen of Lestanorë. Also, the children of the Lady Elwing by one of our own, Eönwë, Herald of Manwë, whose begetting may have been unforeseen by the Powers but never by the One."

"It was an accident," Eönwë mumbled, blushing, as there was a stir among the elven rulers of Eldamar and their heirs.

"There are no accidents, my son," Manwë said with a faint smile. "Merely unforeseen circumstances. Your children are no less loved by Atar or by us than those of the Lord Eärendil's seed."

Now the Mariner was blushing, and Elwing kissed him softly in reassurance. "Pray continue, my Lord," she said hastily.

Ulmo nodded, moving on. "What names have been given these children, sons and daughters of the Lady Elwing? What father-names shall they bear?" Eärendil looked into the large bassinet that had been set before them. All four children lay inside. He and Eonwe lifted their sons.

"They shall each bear a name from each of us," Eönwë said.

"Ulmondil I name my son," Eärendil said. "For he is born of the Sea, gifted by the Lord of Waters."

"To Ulmondil I would gift the name Ullukeluth," Eönwë said. "For he is a reflection of his elder brothers across the Sea, but also he shall be clear-sighted, and possess great wisdom."

Elwing received Ulmondil into her embrace and kissed him, then handed him to Lord Manwë. The Elder King gave Ulmondil his blessing, and the infant was passed in turn to each of the Valar, before finishing with Lord Ulmo whose name he bore. Lord Ulmo whispered his own blessing over the child, and returned him to rest with his sisters.

"What will you name your son, Eönwë?" Eärendil asked.

The Maia shook his head. "He is yours too, Eärendil. You may speak first for him," he prompted.

The Mariner ran his fingers lightly over the more than half-Maia babe's brow, regarding the bright child with wonder. "Then Annael do I name thee, pityaquen," he said softly. "For thou'rt a gift to me and my lady."

"Annael do I name Tulukurush," Eönwë replied, "for see, he is golden, and his eyes shine bright with the fire of knowledge."

As Annael was passed from one Vala to the next to receive their blessing, Elwing and Melian handed the girls over to Eärendil and Eönwë.

Lord Tulkas spent rather a long time examining Annael, and had to be pressed into giving him over by Nessa. He laughed, startling the infant, and pressed a kiss of benediction to the baby's brow before handing him over. At last Annael joined Ulmondil in the bassinet, and then it was the turn of Eärendil and Elwing's daughter.

The small, dark-haired babe focused on Eärendil with her clear blue eyes as he held her.

"Elentariel do I name thee, my daughter, for thou'rt a child of stars, beloved of the air," he said. He glanced at Varda, who smiled serenely, taking no offense whatsoever.

"Elentariel doth Eärendil name thee, pityaquen. Yet I would name thee Ulluinithil, for thou art a daughter of the Sea as much as the stars," Eönwë said.

Varda made much of Elentariel, and both she and Manwe spent time with the child. Last came Eönwë's daughter, and Eärendil regarded her thoughtfully.

"Glorfinniel do I name thee, in honour of my dearest friend," he said softly.

"And Phanaínithil do I name thee, in honour of one of my dearest friends," Eonwe replied. "For thou art bright where thy sister is dark, but the fairest flowers would be envious of ye, our daughters."

When Glorfinniel, too, had been shared around by the Valar and made as much of as her brothers and sister, Elwing gave Earendil a tired smile.

"I suppose we have not shown them to our kin properly yet," she said. The rulers of Eldamar were still waiting and watching patiently, allowing the Valar to see the elflings first.

Earendil nodded. "We should do so," he said, though he wondered what the kings, queens, and princes would have to say. Ingwe's potential reaction, in particular, worried him.

Chapter End Notes

Ulmondil = "friend of Ulmo"

Annael literally "star-gift", after Earendil's foster-grandfather

Elentariel "Star-queen daughter"

"Glorfinniel" "Goldilocks" (see The King's Letter). Obviously she is named for Glorfindel (I wonder what he'll think of that?)

Eonwe's "quessi" are Valarin. They are the names of Ainur of the Timeless Halls, OCs named by Fiondil in some of his ficlets and I use them here in honor of Fiondil. Here are some notes about the original Ainur Eonwe named the elflings for:

Ullukeluth = Water Mirror (known for his exceptional wisdom and exquisite poetry)

Tulukurush = Golden Fire (Tulkas' cousin)

Ulluinithil = Water Lily (she had particular concern for the Valar's building of Ea being thwarted by Melkor)

Phanainithil = Bright Lily (known for her particularly bad poetry, but also her resolve to keep trying to improve).

Eonwe and Melian took up Annael and Glorfinniel, while Earendil and Elwing held Ulmondil and Elentariel. The two Peredhil and two Maiar, carrying the newborns, approached first Ingwe Ingaran, as was proper.

"Uncle," Earendil said, for that was safe enough; he knew vaguely his connection to the High King. "May we present these children who have been added unto our family?"

Ingwe nodded graciously. "It would be my honour to meet them, Nephew."

Earendil smiled, feeling rather shy before the great King. "This is my son Ulmondil. I named him so due to the great friendship between my House and the Lord of Waters." Ingwe gently stroked the dark hair. "He is a quiet child. I think he will prove one to listen first, and speak second. A valuable thing."

Earendil nodded,. Meanwhile Elwing presented Elentariel to the Ingatari, Queen Elindis, who was startled when Elentariel took her seagull form. The tiny chick was soon joined by her brother, for Ulmondil had noted his sister's shift. Elwing cupped both chicks in her hands and stepped aside as the Maiar presented Annael and Glorfinniel. She knelt down, cooing softly to them, and softly remonstrating that they must learn to control their shifting powers. It would not do to behave so in front of the High King and Queen of All the Elves.

Ingwion, meanwhile, separated himself from his parents and knelt by Elwing, eyes alight with amusement. "Do they all do that?" he asked, quirking his mouth upward.

"With Annael and Glorfinniel, it's eagles, Highness," Elwing said absently.

Ingwion glanced up. "Oh. So it is," he agreed, for now they had four chicks to deal with again. At least Eonwe was dealing with that before it could get too out of hand. "Well, Atar and Amme need a little shaking up sometimes."

"Do they?" Elwing blinked.

"Oh yes. If everything went as expected at Court, they'd become boring," Ingwion said lightly. "Anyway, I think your elflings are fascinating, Lady Elwing. You needn't fear me saying anything."

Elwing smiled gratefully at Ingwion, coaxing Ulmondil and Elentariel back into their Pereldarin form. The infants yawned up at her, and she rocked them gently, soothing them as she went to Olwë.

"Uncle Olwë," she said. "Aunt Lirillë, cousin Lindarion, may I present Ulmondil and Elentáriel?" The Lindarin royal trio greeted Elwing and her children warmly - Annael and Glorfinniel included, once they had been brought over. Lirille took the baby girls in her lap, singing softly to them, as Olwë and Lindarion made much of their brothers.

"Ulmondil will be a mariner on the Great Sea, like his father," Olwë mused.

"I do not doubt it, Atar," Lindarion agreed. "Annael..." He paused, brow creasing as he tried to find the words for what he was seeing.

"Elentáriel would make a fine ship's captain herself one day," Olwë added as Lirillë gave him the child in exchange for Ulmondil. Lindarion, taking up Glorfinniel, studied her. "I think Glorfinniel will have...higher pursuits in mind, Atar," he offered. "As will Annael."

Olwe nodded.

"Perhaps they will study at Ingwe's Academy," Eärendil offered, having heard nothing but good of it. "Being a lore-master is a high calling."

"They may well do so, Nephew," Lirille agreed. Eärendil bowed.

As the family approached the last of the royal guests, Findaráto intercepted them. "Greetings, Lord Eärendil, Lady Elwing," he said. "Greetings, hinyar. I am called Finrod."

"Finrod Felagund, that Finrod?" Eärendil said warily.

Finrod laughed. "The last time I checked, Cousin." He gave Eärendil, then Elwing, a kinsman's kiss in greeting. "Come, meet my atar and ammë," he said, eyes sparkling with merriment. "I promise, they don't bite."

Arafinwë and Eärwen listened to all this, greatly amused. "Reborn," Arafinwë murmured, and Eärwen nodded, laughing softly to herself.

"This is my atar and ammë," Finrod told the Peredhil. "Atar, Ammë, these are Cousin Eärendil and Cousin Elwing."

"Otherwise known as the King and Queen of the Noldor, but who cares?" Arafinwë said drolly.

"Yes, who indeed, my lord?" Eärendil replied, smiling broadly.

"'Uncle' will do from you, Nephew. I am Túrucáno's uncle after all," Arafinwë replied, and Eärendil nodded. Technically, Eärwen was Elwing's cousin, as she was Lindarion's sister, but they decided "Aunt" would do well enough.

"Uncle, Aunt, may we present the children who have been added unto our family," Eärendil said, and the King and Queen of the Noldor smiled and nodded. Finrod also took it in his turn to hold the infants, and when Glorfinniel was placed in his arms first, he kissed her brow.

"Nai le cuivuva alya, pityaquen," he murmured. "She will, Findaráto," Eönwë promised, as the haryon to the Noldòran similarly blessed her sister and brothers. "They all will."

Chapter End Notes

Finrod's blessing to Glorfinniel (and her siblings) means "May you live blessed, little one"

It was not long before the little ones began to fuss and fret, and Elwing sighed, exchanging world-weary glances with Eärendil. They remembered - barely - how their firstborn twins had raised a fuss when they were hungry and tired. "Forgive us, my lords, but I fear the excitement is getting to be too much for the children," Eärendil said reluctantly. "They have never yet been away from Aewellond so long."

"Yet they must learn to endure it, my son," Ulmo said kindly. "However, that day need not be today. Perhaps some time in Eldamas will calm them."

Elwing felt baffled at that. Eldamas, the town that served as home for those Elves who served the Valar directly in Valmar or nearby, was likely to be even busier than Valmar itself. But she trusted that the Valar knew what they were about.

"We usually do, daughter," Ulmo said and Elwing blushed.

The Kings and Queens, it turned out, needed to stay in Valmar, and Lindarion wished to visit with his sister, but Finrod and Ingwion asked leave to accompany Eärendil and Elwing to Eldamas, get to know their cousins, and spend some time with the little ones. That settled, and farewells properly made, the party now numbering four adult elves, two Maiar, and four infants made its way from the mansion of Ulmo.

They turned right and walked up the Landamallë Valion, the great malinorni-lined, gemstone-tiled Avenue of the Valar, to the northeast and then passed through the gate leading onto the Formenya Tëa, toward Eldamas.

The North Road was wide, though not so wide as the Landamallë, and before long they were passing houses, shops and inns on each side as the road. The Formenya opened out onto a large market square with a fountain gracing the center. Elflings splashed happily around the edges, watching bright gold, red and silver fish darting here and there, while indulgent parents watched them play. Around the square were picnic benches and many stalls that sold hot food and cold, household goods of wood, leather, and stone, animal pens - there were so many diversions that the group weren't sure where to look first. Suddenly weary, Elwing seated herself on a bench between the fountain and the chandler's shop.

Ingwion, exchanging knowing looks with Finrod, went into the chandlery with his younger cousin. Surely the chandler, along with her assortment of beeswax candles, had honey sticks. Elwing would no doubt appreciate the sweets.

"Fair day, Mistress," Ingwion greeted the elleth who smiled at them as they entered the shop, a bell tinkling somewhere high above them.

She curtseyed. "Fair day, Highnesses." She had never seen the princes close up before, but knew them at once by their tabards bearing their house emblems. "I am called Halawendë."

"I am Ingwion, haryon to the Ingaran, and he is my cousin Findaráto, haryon to the Noldòran," Ingwion said. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mistress Halawendë. You keep a fine shop," he added, for it was pleasant and airy, with none of the scent of tallow he had half expected.

Halawendë beamed. "Thank you, Prince Ingwion. My atar is the head of the Chandlers' Guild," she explained, "and my amillë is a beekeeper, so I sell beeswax candles, as well as honey and just the beeswax itself."

"Ah," Ingwion nodded to that. He turned in time to see Finrod picking up a bag of boiled sweets made with honey, and gave Finrod's hand a light smack. "Don't, Cousin," he said warningly. The look on Finrod's face made Halawendë smother a laugh. She shouldn't laugh at a prince, she knew; it wasn't proper.

"Did you want those, Highness?"

"Not for me, Mistress," Finrod said, stilling Ingwion's protest. "Our cousin Lady Elwing is outside. We brought her children for their Naming Day presentation before all the Valar and--"

Halawendë gasped softly. "Before all the Valar?" she whispered. "Even I have only ever served the Maiar--" Suddenly she realized she had interrupted. "Forgive me, my lord."

"There is nothing to forgive," Ingwion said quickly. "As Findarato was saying, we hoped some honey sweets might settle Lady Elwing. I thought perhaps the flavoured sticks that Inga--that Indil still loves so much." Finrod noticed what Ingwion had begun to say and hid a wince. He squeezed his cousin's shoulder supportively.

"Of course, Highness," Halawendë said, ignoring the prince's slip of the tongue. It was none of her business anyway. She brought out a basket of stick candy, made with various flavours of honey. "We have these, or we have the boiled sweets you were looking at, Prince Findaráto."

"Both?" Finrod asked hopefully, a light in his eyes, and Ingwion looked at his younger cousin with fond exasperation.

"Oh, all right. Both. You can have sweets, too," he agreed. Finrod's face lit up in an elflinglike smile and Halawendë couldn't help laughing then. She blushed when Ingwion gave her a knowing look.

"Reborn," he said simply, and Halawendë nodded knowingly.

"Oh. I have cousins in Tirion," she said. "How long has he been out?"

"Mmm...half a century, more or less," Ingwion shrugged diffidently. "Not so very long."

"Not long indeed," Halawendë agreed.

"I'm still here, Ingwi," Finrod said pointedly.

Ingwion smiled faintly. "So you are, otornya," he agreed, kissing Finrod on the brow. "Why don't you take these sweets to Elwing," he suggested as he gave Halawendë a silver coin. She gave him a small handful of coppers and brasses that he tucked into his money pouch in return.

"Can I buy Elwing some sticky buns at the baker's?" Finrod asked. For answer, Ingwion handed over three coppers.

"But stay with Melian," he ordered. "Do not leave her sight."

"Yes, Cousin," Finrod agreed, and left the shop with the sweets. Ingwion watched from the door as Finrod rejoined the party, and then turned to examine the candles and wax melts on offer. He needed some new scents for his chambers. Melian could take care of Finrod.

When Ingwion had finished his shopping, he had a bundle of several scented tapers - his atar would appreciate the citrus and pine for his study, his amille preferred roses, and he liked the apple-scented ones himself. There was a box of wax melts scented with sea-spray for his bathing chamber, and apple-scented melts for his bedroom. He returned to the party to find Finrod had returned from the baker's with a bag of sticky buns, and his face was covered with baker's sugar.

Earendil was rolling his eyes as he tidied the former King of Nargothrond up to make him presentable, while Elwing laughed. The Maiar were tending the quiescent elflings, and Ingwion shook his head, smiling wryly.

"I remember Arafinwë had a liking for baker's sugar too," he remarked. "Aunt Indis nearly had a fit when Ara turned up half covered in the stuff after we took him for a treat. Atar had to calm her down." Finrod snorted good-naturedly, blushing a little. "That sounds like Anamillë."

"Feeling better then, Cousin?" Ingwion asked solicitously, and Finrod nodded.

"Sorry."

"No harm done," Ingwion said gently. "Perhaps Eldamas is too busy for you after all."

"Perhaps, then, we should return to Valmar, or try another road," Earendil suggested. To this they all agreed, though where in Valmar - or out of it - they would go was less certain. There was not much to the City of the Powers, beautiful though it was - eight mansions, the bell tower in the middle of the Landamallë Valion, and the four roads which led away from Valmar. Nothing was keeping them here.

The group drifted back down the North Road, and something led them down the Númenya Tëa, the West road between the mansions of Nienna and that of Námo and Vairë. As they continued down the Númenya Tëa, they reached a road branching off of it, heading in a southwesterly direction. There was a signpost that simply read Mallë Mandëo.

Ingwion stopped with a gasp, staring down the road. "Ingil," he whispered. Eärendil and Elwing exchanged alarmed glances as the heir to the High King bolted down the road, into the silver mists, and was lost to their sight.

Finrod dashed after him before Earendil, Elwing, or the Maiar could react. "Ingwion!"

Ingwion fled. He could see nothing through the silver mist, yet something kept him rushing forward, screaming. "Ingil! Ingil! Ingalaurë, do you hear me?"

He ran until he could run no more, colliding with something hard and collapsing to his knees. His head was spinning, and he felt nauseous.

"Ingwion, Ingwion, what art thou doing, child?"

He did not recognize the voice, but arms wrapped around him, a warm, maternal embrace. She was not his ammë, he knew, but he knew that voice from somewhere.

"Keep your eyes closed, child, and breathe deeply," she commanded, and Ingwion did. Soon the nauseous feeling passed, but his head still ached. He was drawn into her lap, and rocked gently, like an elfling.

Racing footsteps behind him made Ingwion moan with pain. "Make it stop," he mumbled.

"It is thine own fault, Ingwion," she chided him. "This is not thy proper sphere. What dost thou here? And thee, hina?"

"I am here for my cousin, Lady," came the answer, and Ingwion blanched.

Finrod!

"I am Lady Miriel," she clarified, and now both cousins were pale. Ingwion struggled to sit up, wanting to look upon the former Noldotári, but she clucked disapprovingly and shook her head.

"Slowly, child, slowly," she murmured. "Now thou mayest open thine eyes, Ingwion."

Ingwion opened his eyes slowly, and looked upon a house built of nessamelda wood, ringed with cypress and pomegranate trees. There was a workshop set up in each wing, and the dyeing of yarn was obviously going on in one. In the front garden, where a riot of pansies and forget-me-nots carpeted the ground, a chair was set up for Lady Miriel to sit at her loom.

It was the loom, built of sturdy oak, that Ingwion had collided with. He rubbed his head weakly.

"I am sorry, Lady," he said meekly. "I had no wish to intrude upon you, only to find my...my brother."

Míriel turned to regard Ingwion sternly. "Nay, Ingwion. Thy brother is in Mandos," she said quietly. "Thou canst not go to him. Even if thou hadst found him there, he wouldst not recognize thee."

Ingwion wept. "But he is my brother, Lady!"

"Ingalaurë is safe in Mandos," Míriel said quietly. "He is not ready to remember thee - or anyone else - as of yet. It is my Lord Námo's gift to him and to all the other souls under his care."

Finrod nodded. "Lady Míriel is correct, Cousin," he said quietly. "When Ingalaurë is Reborn, it will be at the proper time and not before. Lord Námo knows what is best for him, and he would be most displeased to find you here."

"As am I, Cousin."

The quiet words made Ingwion scramble to his feet, looking around at the fountain that played softly a few feet away. Standing in front of it, framed by the cypress and pomegranate trees behind her, was Elwing, Lady of Aewellond, grey eyes hard as she surveyed Ingwion sternly. He was suddenly put in mind of his ammë, Queen Elindis, and cringed.

"Cousin, I--" Ingwion faltered, though he wasn't sure if it was because of the two Maiar standing a little way away with the elflings, or whether the power of Elwing's voice alone kept him quiet.

"If your brother knew what you were doing, he would be very disappointed in you, Ingwion," Elwing said firmly, her tone brooking no dissent. "You do not belong here, seeking Death."

Ingwion swallowed hard. He stared at the young perelda - so young, he thought, to have such eyes, to have such a commanding presence. "You do realise," he said eventually, "I'm older than Nolofinwë."

Elwing's eyebrows arched slightly. "Well, atar and ammë told me age makes no difference if behaviour needs correcting."

Atar and ammë. She must mean Tuor and Itarillë, Ingwion realised, for her own parents had been dead long before they could tell her any such thing. "My atar and ammë would agree with them," he conceded, smiling reluctantly.

"Then let us hence from this place, for peaceful though it be, I like it not," Elwing said quietly, shivering., looking past Vaire's quiet courtyard to the peaceful, rolling hills beyond and knowing what lay there.

The peace of the grave, she thought.

The party farewelled Míriel, the former Noldotári, and she promised to give their greetings to her lady, though Ingwion seemed troubled by that idea. As Ingwion, Finrod, and Elwing rejoined Eönwë, Melian and the sleeping elflings in their carriers, they headed back up the road to the Númenya Tëa, where  Eärendil had been standing watch.

"Perhaps we should return to Lord Ulmo's mansion. I am sure Uncle Ingwë and Aunt Elindis are still there," Eärendil offered when they returned.

Ingwion winced, but nodded. He would have to explain his behaviour to his parents. Though of course he was far from being an elfling himself any longer, he had disrespected the Valar by intruding upon a private space where he was not welcome, and as High King and Queen of the Eldar he was sure they would have plenty to say about that.

Elwing lay a supportive hand upon his arm. "Peace, Cousin. What is the worst they can do?" she asked wryly.

"Put me on bread and water for the next three Ages of Arda?" Ingwion muttered.

Eärendil snorted. "I sincerely doubt they would do such a thing."

"Indeed not," Melian agreed as they walked back into Valmar, and headed for Lord Ulmo's demesne. She kissed his brow in blessing. "Fear not, Child of Iluvatar, neither your parents or my Masters are tyrants. Thou goest before those who love you without reservation, and while we may remain here, we go with thee here." She rested a hand on his heart. "Courage, Ingwion haryon Ingaran."

Ingwion took a breath and nodded, smiling gratefully at the former Queen of Doriath as he gently pushed aside the front gate, made of a single large pearl, and carefully made his way across the lake, taking one stepping-stone at a time. The giant sea turtle shells were slippery but not dangerously so, and so Ingwion entered the edifice of living rock and sea-glass alone.

Elwing knelt and gathered Elentariel into her arms, holding her small daughter almost possessively. "I hope they are not too hard on him."

"Fear not, daeriel," Melian said gently. "All will be well with Ingwion."