Chapter Text
Quenta Fëanoriel
Book one Nárëa The Burning Fire
Part 1 The Never Fading Light
Year 568, Third Age, Imladris
Anordeliel prompted down next to Glorfindel. “Glor, do you really think ammë hates haru?” Glorfindel looked up from his book in surprise. “Why would you say that.” He knew the little princess (all right, maybe not so little, given that she is more than 500 years old) was inspective, but he didn’t suspect her to realize the complicated feeling Celaimir has for Finrod.
“Well,” he started carefully, “I don’t think Princess Laurealime really hates Findaráto.” Anordeliel raised an eyebrow. “But?” She asked. Glorfindel put down his book and wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close. “How do you know that I am going to say but?” He gently nudged his chin on the top of her golden head, before planting a kiss on her cheek. Anordeliel rolled her eyes, giving him a slight push. “Glor, I’m serious. When you said something like that, there’s always a but.” Glorfindel remained silent. She nudges him again. “C’mon, Laure, tell me.” She then gave him her big puppy eyes.
Glorfindel sighed in defeat, she knew he can never resist when she calls him “Laure” or when she gives him her puppy eyes. And definitely not both. “Anarilindë, I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
Her eyes light up, knowing that he had gave in. “Why shouldn’t you tell me? Ammë hadn’t banned talking about haru, I heard other elves talking about him a few days ago, and we still learn about him in history class. She just doesn’t talk about him like how atto won’t talk about Eärandil.”
Glorfindel sighed again. “But she loves her mother more, and she is just bitter about Findaráto leaving her, her brother, and her mother to help Beren retrieve the Silmaril. From what I’ve heard, Princess Carnifinde almost fades after Findaráto’s death.” Anordeliel’s eyes widened. “Fade? Then who is taking care of ammë and uncle Neltanáro?” Glorfindel shook his head. “Their uncles do, and Princess Carnifinde woke up a while later. The flame of life burnt bright in her fëa. Why would you ask a question like this?”
Anordeliel’s eyes darkened for a moment, before returning to her usual summer blue. What she remembered definitely wasn’t something pleasant.
“Anarilindë?” Glorfindel asked, it wasn’t normal to see such an expression on her face. She shook her head a bit. “Well, I guess she has a point.”
Glorfindel blinked, unable to process the so quick change of subject. “What?” “Ammë’s unwillingness to talk about haru.” Anordeliel explained. “If I were her, and atto leaves me and ammë on a suicidal mission for someone that indirectly caused ammë’s death, I wouldn’t want to talk about him either.”
“Not talk about who?” A voice sounded behind them, they whirled around to find an elleth with wave like blonde hair and light blue eyes. She was wearing a necklace of Eight-Pointed Star — the symbol of the House of Fëanor. A silver circlet placed on her head, symboling her nobility. “My lady Laurealime.” Glorfindel acknowledged, bowing his head slightly as Anordeliel called “ammë.” It was Celaimir, the High Princess of the Noldor. “What are you two talking about, Laurefindelë?” She gave a pointed look at his hand which was still on Anordeliel’s waist. Glorfindel followed her gaze, then reluctantly remove his hand, causing Anordeliel to glance at him. “You know atto and ammë are not against us, Laure. You make it looks like we are carrying on a clandestine love affair.” Anordeliel’s joking voice sounded in his head. He gave her a slight glare, his ears turned slightly pink.
Celaimir gave a small laugh at this. “Laurefindelë, I’m not against your relationship with Anaríriel, nor is my husband, even if he is quite shocked when he found out.” True to her words, Elrond nearly fainted when he found out that Anordeliel and Glorfindel are courting and had threatened to kill him if he did anything that would hurt his daughter, both physically and mentally.
Anordeliel gave him a triumphant look, clearly saying “I told you so.” Celaimir dragged a chair over and sat down across from them. She tilted her head. “Laurefindelë?” He gulped, for he remembered too well Princess Laurealime’s bitterness toward Finrod. “We’re talking about haru.” Anordeliel answered truthfully. Glorfindel sighed, true, he couldn’t expect Lindariel to lie, and she is the worst lier he had ever met in his long life. Celaimir flinched. “Your highness.” Glorfindel started, but Celaimir shook her head gently. “You have the right to know.” She sighed. “Findaráto, I mean, my atya,” she paused, as if she’s not sure what to say. Glorfindel stood up. “Princess Laurealime, I should leave now.” He had no intention in preying into the complexity of the relationship between Finrod and Celaimir.
“No, no no. Stay, Laurefindelë.” Called Celaimir. “You should know the things I don’t.” Glorfindel bowed his head. “If that is your wish, my lady.”
Celaimir looked out the window, the sun was high up in the sky, blazing its radiant glow. “I only heard the story from Sataril, and he didn’t speak much of it. The story doesn’t really start with me, rather with a beloved princess, back when the Trees were still shining in Valinor, back when everything is so good.”