New Challenge: Potluck Bingo
Sit down to a delicious selection of prompts served on bingo boards, created by the SWG community.
Thanks Spurious Dipthong and Nienna Wept on discord for the advice on "just throwing people in and slowly worldbuilding"! Really helped me get out of a "too many ideas" writing paralysis and start this chapter.
506 of the First Age – The Havens of Sirion
All of the Havens were a bustle with the arrival of all of the refugees from Doriath. Apparently, the Fëanorians had come and sacked it after the flight of Melian, killing Dior and Nimloth, and attempting to murder Elwing and the two young princes as well. Meleth tried to walk around to help, but it made it twice as hard to have to explain to everyone that she was not a Fëanorian, despite her looks. Idril must have seen her struggling because she came up to her and asked if she wanted to take a break.
“There are some people I think you should meet,” Idril said to Meleth. “Nobles from King Dior’s court. There are multiple Peredhil among them.”
“How lovely. It will be nice to have other Peredhil around.”
“It will indeed. It will be nice for Eärendil, I think, to see you and him are not the only Peredhil around.”
“I certainly agree.”
They walked up the pathway to the hall where Idril held her court. It was paved with hewn stones fitted together in the fashion of the courtyard of Gondolin, although it was not with the same type of white marble that their city had been made of. It was a fine building, considering their circumstances, made with timber from Nimbrethil. There were carvings and reliefs along the walls, and columns of Elves and Humans surviving together. A flag with Idril’s sigil was hung along the top, with Tuor, Meleth, Galdor, and Egalmoth’s sigils hung on flags below it. Inside the building, there were many people - none of whom Meleth recognized, but some whom she could make good guesses about.
A young Peredhel girl being attended by multiple nobles was one such person. She was no older than three or four, and had brown skin and black hair that sparkled as if with starlight. Her eyes were grey and deep, filled to the brim with as many stars as the night sky. She could be none other than Princess Elwing, King Dior’s daughter. Idril introduced her as such.
“Tuor and I are adopting her and her brothers, if they can be found,” Idril continued. “If anyone living knows how to raise a Peredhel, it would be us.”
Of the nobles attending to her, there was an Elven lord with tan skin and silver hair who wore a forest green robe embellished with tree embroidery. Next to him was an Elven woman with olive skin and brown hair. She held a small boy, who had her coloring, against her hips. Idril introduced them.
“This is Lord Oropher, his wife, Lady Celeblassil, who is also the sister of Queen Nimloth, and their son, Thranduil.”
Oropher bowed, and Celeblassil curtsied as much as she could holding her child.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Meleth curtsied at both of them as Idril introduced her.
“And this is Lady Meleth, my dear cousin who is only Fëanorian by blood, and was raised in Brethil by my Aunt Aredhel and Lady Haleth of the Haladin.”
“Good to meet you,” Oropher said.
“Glad to make your acquaintance,” Celeblassil told her. “The Haladin are good warriors and a fine people.”
“Thank you,” Meleth responded.
“My cousin here is the best fighter of the Gondolindrim,” Idril bragged.
“You know I would disagree with that.” Meleth pulled playfully on Idril’s sleeve.
“But I will say it anyway.” Idril smiled at her.
With that, they moved on to the next person.
“Lady Niënor of the House of Hador, and her son, Mabelen,” Idril introduced her.
Niënor was a tall, human woman with golden hair braided in an Elvish fashion that Meleth had seen Galadriel wear before. She wore an elaborate Doriathrin robe of deep red wool with silver embroidery along the hems and cuffs. Her son was young, no older than seven or maybe eight, with brown skin, raven black hair, and Peredhel ears that pointed slightly out from his hair. He clung to the side of his mother’s robe with his small hands.
“Glad to meet you, Lady Niënor.”
“The pleasure is all ours.” Niënor curtsied to her, then turning to Idril, she said: “We thank you very much for the opportunity of a fresh start here in the Havens.”
“Of course. I would do nothing less for my husband’s kin,” Idril replied.
“My mother and husband have come as well, but she was too exhausted from the journey and needed rest. My husband went with her to help.”
“That is no problem at all - I know how elderly she is.”
Next, Idril turned to an Elven woman standing next to Niënor. She had tan skin, and a golden circlet on a shimmering blonde head of hair, braided in a fashion somewhat similar to the Haladin. Her dress was highly embroidered blue satin with lace peeking out from under her sleeves and along the neckline.
“This is Princess Finduilas of Nargothrond, one of our Arafinwëan relations, and Lady Niënor’s wife,” Idril said, turning to Meleth, and introducing her the same way she introduced Meleth to the others.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Princess.” Meleth curtsied towards her.
“The same to you, Lady Meleth.” Finduilas curtsied in return. “You grew up in Brethil? I lived there for a short time with my husband. It was a lovely forest, and the people were very welcoming.”
“Yes, the people are very kind,” Meleth was about to ask about the husband Finduilas had mentioned when Idril broke in with another question.
“Speaking of family, Finduilas, where is your daughter?”
Finduilas’s eyes went wide and she looked around quickly, before placing a hand on her face and exhaling deeply.
“She ran away again.” Finduilas sighed. “She always does that when she is upset. And she has been very upset since we left Doriath.”
“Oh dear! And after we told her not to! She is too headstrong,” Niënor said. “Do not let Mama know. She will go into a fit and try to find her, and she shouldn’t do that at her age. Especially after all the commotion of the past few days.”
“Very true. We must find Radariel before your mother finds out,” Finduilas added.
“I can help,” Meleth offered her hand, “What does she look like?”