Three are one. There are no love songs to encompass what they share save the songs they sing themselves.

Choices define us. Choices define history.

They were all children once, and played as children do. Cousins played games with cousins without the undercurrents of discontent between their fathers ruining the golden days spent in their grandfather's garden. There were secrets, though, even then but they did not care about them.

Of course those days are as dead as that much beloved grandfather and Finrod barely thinks of the time he was little Finda in a child's frock, clinging to Tyelkormo's skirt with Carnistir's hand stuck to his, as they braved the "wilderness" of Míriel's garden.

It seems though that there are some final lessons to be learnt, some final games to be played and a secret or two to discover that should have been left alone. 

In Nargothrond Finrod Felagund is both the unwitting architect and witness to the final, dying gasp of Fëanorian innocence.

Of Fëanáro's coming into the world and what Handenésë saw.

The elves were content and dwelt long under the stars of the forest Cuiviénen. After many years with many groups and cultures multiple and different rites of passage and ways of living will evolve. 

Under the ever dark sky a child awakens in the forest and knows only that she is young and her name is Míriel.

Indis is strong, brave and loves her Queen so very much.