Dolthafaer laughed with relief the moment he found himself alone in his house that night.
Everything had gone better than expected.
He had approached a Caun of Bar-En-Vanimar nearly a month past about joining their ranks, and he had been half-dreading this day ever since. How many times had his father regaled him with tales of this noble order? The survivors of Gondolin, heroes all, banding together into three mighty houses -- remembering the glory of their past, ever vigilant, fighting against the darkness in whichever way they could. The name had been a legend to that starry-eyed elfling.
But an entire Age of the Sun had passed since Dolthafaer had been an elfling. The world was darkening, shadows creeping into the wilds and over his heart, and it was time for him to stop whiling away his life in the comfort of his woods. He had skill with a knife and bow, proven time and again. Who would he pledge himself to now to fight this darkness? Gil-galad was dead, and the Noldor had no king. Why not trust Vanimar to make use of his strength?
Even so, the thought had been intimidating.
The morning of his oath had gotten off to a rocky start. Dolthafaer had been idling in the halls of Elrond's house, fussing over his new robe -- deep purple, bought specifically for the occasion -- when seemingly out of the shadows a young elf had approached him, commenting upon and criticizing everything from the style of his hair to the cut of his boots. Dolthafaer had been too stunned to respond before the elf was dashing off again, mentioning a certain ceremony he needed to attend.
Thus he met his first member of Vanimar.
Absurdly, the brief meeting had made Dolthafaer more anxious about his looks than about his oath by the time he finally arrived at the forges. There the young elf had been waiting for him, along with Nimgileth -- the elf maid who had agreed to bear witness for him -- and several other members of the order. After a moment of confusion, the Caun had arrived, the Oath had been taken, and he had been accepted into the ranks of Bar-En-Vanimar.
Dolthafaer took the pin from his breast and gazed at it for a moment, the laughter fading from his grey eyes. He had not pledged himself to a cause since he had bent his knee for his king. Things would change now; he had a purpose again, a home, and kinsmen. His days of wandering and solitude were over, and he was not sure how he felt about it.
The rest of the day had passed in a blur of wine and dancing, and now Dolthafaer was grateful for the solitude of his own home. He would be expected to reside in the halls of Vanimar now, he supposed, but he doubted anyone would mind much if he took one last night to prepare himself for these changes.
