first age

The Gondolindrim had all been brimming with anticipation the whole day, now, on the eve of the first day of Summer, they all stood upon the eastern wall of the White City, waiting.

Waiting for Anar to rise and greet the first of warm, beautiful and bright days of summer, as it did for more than a century by then. Sinilatamo looked to his right, smiling at the brown haired elleth whose hand he was holding, his vanimelda*, as he called her. She smiled back, placing her index finger on her mouth to indicate they should still be silent. He nodded.

Mithlond, a blurry time, White Ship’s dock

She promised herself she would not cry. She promised herself she would have been prepared, and strong, and stalwart, and brave. She promised herself she would not beg them to stay.

She was none of those things at the moment. She could barely hold herself from yelling at her mother and father to not board the damn ship. To not leave her for who knows how long. But she decided to stay didn’t she?

Sinilatamo breathed deeply the fragrant air that early morning. It truly was the perfect day: azure sky like aquamarine, not a single cloud, the mountains sprouting dark green patches of pine trees among the dusting of snow. Carried by the wind, warm enough to be outdoors without cloak, the scent of newly budding flowers.

Carniquessë stood in a darkened corner at the end of the farthest wall in the throne room, near the great carved wooden doors left slightly ajar so guards could come and go at the end (or start) of their shift. Her company was supposed to be off duty as for the occasion they were given leave to return to Nargothrond from the plains and attend Princess Finduilas’ begetting day ceremony. Luckily for her comrades, who all seemed to enjoy themselves scattered here and there in the crowd, unluckily for her.

5th hrívë, present days

Eärcalië led her horse out of the wood and down the gravelly path to Maeth’s house. She found him chopping the oaken logs in his back yard, she hopped off the horse and run to him presenting the bundle of wildflowers. He stared at them blinking, for a long while not saying anything.

48 Quellë, present days

"Move those arms 'Calie! Quick cuts! One, two, three! Strong strikes now! Never lock your elbow when striking, young elleth!"

The sound of horse hooves pounding against the earth resounded. At exhilerating speeds, the small group of riders thundered across the hilly, boulder ridden landscape. Each rock could hide a new threat, another machination of the Dark Lord Morgoth. These riders knew this, for they scouted this area every day. The darkness of the Thrangorodrim's fumes touched this land; though it was broken and thin compared to the foot of the Iron Mountains.

Spring was sweet and crisp in the hidden valley of Tumladen. Summer was short and cool in the streets of Ondolinde. Autumn was just a passer-by for the cold winter season. Sinilatamo did not like the sudden changes of climate characteristic of Echoriath, remembering the mild temperatures of Vinyamar near the sea. He preferred to spend as much time indoors as he could when the weather decided to be capricious, especially when it threatened rain. If he could. That day, he made an exception on behalf of a friend.

Aicasicil’s family mansion, Forlindon, centuries ago

The light of the Moon shone high in the sky, filtering through the window into the room. It hit a series of wall-mounted decorations of painted crystals, creating a fascinating play of light-streaks on the ceiling. Little Eärcalië watched, fascinated, the colorful display. Her mother, who was reading her a bedtime story, closed the book and smiled.