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“Will the baby be tiny?”
Carnistir chuckled. “Yes, hínya, he will be very small.”
“Smaller than I was when I was a baby?” Rýndil asked.
“Mm... Yes. Definitely.” That was unlikely, to tell the truth; Rýndil had been born early (even for a mortal, though not by much) to a mother who was much shorter than this babe’s. But it wasn’t like Rýndil would know any different.
“And he’s like me?” Rýndil said. “With an elf atya and a human mama?”
“Just like you,” Carnistir assured.
It was something of a miracle, in fact. Haleth and Carnistir hadn’t been trying for a babe. Indeed, they were both shocked when it happened: Carnistir because it wasn’t intentional, and Haleth because, by mortal standards, she was “old” for a mother. But Rýndil had happened, and they loved their child anyway.
Carnistir had never imagined himself a father, but as soon as the child was born, their fëa latched onto his and revealed themself to him. That’s how he’d known they weren’t a daughter or a son, just like how Nerdanel had understood Maitimo from his birth. It was remarkable, and one of the most wondrous things he’d ever known.
With Rýndil, everything was uncertain. A half-elf! An accidental child! A babe whose soul knew themself at birth!
So when it came to Aikanáro and Andreth, they knew it was possible. The two had not even met when Rýn was born, but Carnistir’s child had shown them that a life together was possible. A family was possible.
That was why Carnistir was invited to meet the babe. Well, mostly it was Rýndil. He’d never really liked Aiko or his brothers, but for his child’s sake he would do anything. Haleth had gone ahead—she was no midwife, but she’d befriended the younger Atanië and wanted to be there for her child’s birth.
And now, Carnistir brought his own child to meet their baby cousin. Ladros was a long way from Thargelion, but they’d began the journey as soon as Aikanáro sent his message a month ago. And now—finally—they were here.
“Cousin!” Aikanáro exclaimed, his hair even wilder than usual and his face nearly as ruddy as Carnistir’s own. “Come in, come in! Your wife is with mine!”
“She’s not my wife,” Carnistir corrected, for he and Haleth were not the marrying type, but Aiko didn’t seem to care. He beamed at Rýndil and hoisted them, laughing, onto his shoulders, hurrying back inside his and Andreth’s home.
Carnistir followed, and he couldn’t help but smile. Andreth lay in bed, surrounded by her kinswomen, and Haleth. In her arms she held a child, only two days old—the second peredhel in all the world. His hair was a tuft of Arafinwëan blond, his ears the same soft point as Rýndil’s, the same half-length of a full-elven ear.
Aikanáro put Rýndil down, and they approached Andreth’s bedside. Very carefully—they had been warned to be careful—Rýndil leaned in, standing on their tip-toes to see better.
“Hello, baby cousin,” they said, and reached out to gently stroke his hair.
“His name is Orodlin,” Andreth murmured.
Carnistir’s Fëanárion mind quickly picked apart the name: orod—mountain. Lin... Ah. Lhîn—pool, or lake. He understood now: Andreth and Aiko had met when he saw her reflection in an alpine lake. He smiled despite himself. It was rather romantic.
“And I haven’t decided on an ataressë yet,” Aiko confessed, bending to kiss Andreth’s forehead. “But Orodlin...is perfect.”
“He’s very cute,” Rýndil agreed. Orodlin’s eye, star-bright like all the children of Endórë, focused on his cousin. His tiny hand reached out, grasping their finger.
Rýndil tensed—then beamed. “I’m his favorite,” they declared. “Atya, can we stay for a while? Please? Pretty please?”
Carnistir looked to Haleth and nodded. “Yes, Rýn,” she said. “But for now, it’s bedtime. You’ve walked a long way—would you like to sleep in my bed tonight?”
Rýndil gently wriggled their finger free from Orodlin’s grasp, and ran to hug their mother. “Yes! Yes!”
“You’re welcome too, Moryo,” Haleth added, and the assembled adults chuckled—some a little uncomfortably. But then Orodlin yawned, showing off his tiny, gumless mouth, and the attention returned to him, as it ought.
Rýndil’s eyes were drooping. Haleth guided them away, and Moryo, exchanging a nod with Aikanáro, followed.