Cuivië Narsilion (IC)

[Shiki]

Morgoth stared down upon the land,
Three Silmarils on head, in hand.
"The best," he called, "greatest blades,
Out-send to stop my bloody raids!
To challenge me with spells or might!
Then suffer! Feel the wrath of night!"
So now, two souls from Eru sent,
Aulë's kin and Aman-meant.
One refugee, one born of stone,
But none could doubt both souls bright-shone.


The court of Finrod Felagund lay in a cave, as did most of his new city. However, the cave of his court was special. Lit from above by tiny lanterns on the distant ceiling, it gave the distinct impression that one was outside at night - something entirely intended by the architects, at his direction. He did quite love the room, as did most of his subjects.

Two individuals stood before him. Matters of court, most likely. Normally, he would have them speak in order, simply for propriety's sake, but they both seemed to have an expression of urgency on their faces. A dwarf, one of the architects, and an elf. By the hair, of Vanyar blood - though certainly not only, he knew of no Vanyar that sailed across the sea, not even for love. He frowned; that wasn't a memory he wanted to drag up. "Greetings, friends. The lights of Varda shine brightly upon you." He motioned with an open hand, a gesture inviting them to speak. He was Lord here, sure, but this was not the realm of the Enemy; freedoms were enshrined here.

 

[Red Thunder]

It was a start.

The stonework of the Noldor was, Kóna had admitted to herself grudgingly as she traipsed the long and still mostly desolate hallways toward the arranged audience with the king, finely and subtly done. They did perhaps use more tree and flower iconography than was strictly fitting for a palace and fortress of rock, and tools used had clearly not been up to hear standards; every so often, Kóna had spied an ill-placed chip from the stone face, the result of a skilled hand yet unattuned to the material with which it worked. Carefully her experienced fingers had traced the odd crack that had been incorporated nearly but not quite perfectly into the carvings, feeling as was her wont the integrity of the rock in which it lay.

Yet, then, as even now while bowing properly to Finrod Felagund himself, Kóna's mind still wandered the Fens of Sirion, and her heart still ached inside her after her father. Gimble had not extricated himself and followed, and she was beginning to lose hope for his return to them. In his absence, however, she would represent him well.

"Kóna of the Broadbeams, of Belegost, at your service." She straightened from her genuflection, hand still on her chest in respect. "I and my associates arrived in your generous and extensive halls a day past, summoned to aid in their delving; the others await my return in the rooms provided them. Tell me, King; when and where shall we begin? My mind and heart weigh heavy within, restless, and I would set them to task."

The elf woman beside Kóna seemed of little consequence. To Dwarvish eye, she was no different than the others that surrounded them, and so paid her no mind.

@Kat @Shiki @zucca_

 

[junebug]

​

If he was part of her family tree, Calen would've been a little more than offended by Finrod's lack of memory. She'd expected a more familiar greeting, though after her exile, she supposed it wasn't his fault he couldn't remember her from his childhood. It still pained her a bit, but he was here nonethless, and she was here. Finrod was alright.

She glanced over at the male dwarf who spoke with a sense of integrity and diligence. He was here to assist in the further build of Finrod's palace; a beauty in its own right. Kóna was an awfully strange name for a male, however, she didn't think much of it. Her heart was set on family matters; Fëanor had passed, as had Finwë. She had no reason to continue with the quest for the Silmarils after that.

"Your Majesty," she greeted with a warm glow and deep curtsy. "I'm surprised you don't remember me from all those years ago, though I suppose it can't be helped. It's Calenduin, Amarië's cousin. We used to play chess together."

The moment Calen said her first name, she wondered if Finrod would've been more quick to remember her as a traitor, or someone who followed Fëanor into exile, as many other Noldorins did. She wasn't quite sure how he would react; it made her feel apprehensive. The past was the past though. She could not erase it; she could only hope for new beginnings.

 

[Shiki]

Finrod frowned at the dwarf. Emotion was clear on his - her? - face, something all the more worrying with the famous dwarven tendency towards stoicism. But, like a leaf on a silent autumn morning, the frown vanished, and he tilted his head towards Kóna. "I know not the details, alas - though the largest problem is that the caves below us are too treacherous for our masons, while you and your kin would have no problem. Come the morrow, my chief mason will meet with you and yours to discuss deeper the actions you shall take, if you have no objections?"
Then, he turned to the elf. Ah, Calenduin. Mhm, the name was familiar. "Forgive me, my lady, for not recognizing you; my mind and memories have been elsewhere, with my people more than with the West." He pursed his lips, and refused to think about his love, from whom he'd evermore be splint by the Sundering Seas themselves, if Mandos has his way - and there he went again. Immortality was...difficult. Heavy. He had heard rumors of beings to the far East, of what may be the Younger Children - mortals. Men. He had no small amount of envy, frankly, for the freedom of a short lifetime. "You are, of course, welcome to wander these halls as you wish. This is a home for all."
With pleasantries done with, he smiled with a nod, and guards moved to open a path for the two to take. As he adjusted himself on his seat, he thought about the echo he heard in his soul. He had not become the elf he was by being idle to Ilúvitar's voice, so he wondered what it meant. What He was trying to say. Destiny, he decided. Fate. This was one of those moments where history's path is carved. He wasn't quite sure how, but he knew.

 

[Red Thunder]

​

The dismissal was clear: formal and polite but pointed. The King clearly had other things on his mind.

Which suited Kóna just fine. Bowing again, hand still at her breast and some small resentment in her heart for the lack of courteous reply to her greeting from Finrod, the architect turned and left, stopping just outside the throne hall doors to retrieve her axe from the guards posted there. A smile pulled at her lips as she hefted it in her hand, appreciating the familiar weight. Sliding the weapon into the haft sheath on her back, she began making her way back toward her companions.

Her mind wandered, and without conscious thought her eye roved the Elvish iconography as she recalled her first encounter with Elf-kind on Doriath's southern border. Their particularly guarded and indeed suspicious manner had given her an exceedingly bad impression, though Gimble had insisted that it was merely because they were like that for all visitors to that kingdom. Fortunate, then, that her subsequent interaction with the Nargothrond Elves had been more open and friendly: smiles had greeted the Dwarves at their arrival, with open arms and ready meals. Even their wine and ale had been generously forthcoming, all the moreso when the hosts learned of Kóna's loss, and she had found herself somewhat comforted.

That comfort was quickly replaced by her initial irritation. As her mind had wandered, so too had her feet, and without her attention to guide her steps, Kóna struck a tall Elf as she passed him with her shoulder. Now aware of her surroundings, she paused and turned to apologize. But she was not given the opportunity.

"Ho! The stone rats have crept up from their tunnels!" The disgust was clear in his face, twisting the otherwise fair to terrible. His clothes showed him to perhaps be some minor noble; the way his coterie seemed to find his comment humorous only verified the impression. "Mind your surroundings, Dwarf; t'would be a pity if you took injury to yourself! Though one would perhaps hardly notice."

Kóna's eyebrow raised, and her nose wrinkled in frustration. One of the Elf's companions waved her hand, her wispy green dress shifting as her contained a chuckle.

"Sinarfin! Come, waste not your time; I would not be late to hear Maglor's latest ballad. Laedeth and his harp will be a gift to the ears."

Folding her arms across her chest, Kóna waited, seeing whether the Elvish princeling would do as bid. But he frowned, fists balled.

"See how he bows up! Orithel, you cannot allow me to suffer such an indignity!"

 

[junebug]

​

Calen found herself irate with Finrod, though she was quite good at hiding it. He didn't seem interested in anything to do with her arrival and despite her being Amarië's cousin, perhaps one of the closest, Finrod was not interested in any sort of talk, as far as Calen could tell. He did not offer them snacks or wine; he simply went about his own business on the throne, whatever that may be. She found it disheartening he didn't seem to be feeling the festivities, but didn't allow it to bog down her plan to have fun.

Despite not receiving the generous offer to dine and drink as she wished— only to roam the halls— Calen made due with her favorite wet wine. She talked with some of the elves and entertained with her stories of travel and adventure, though a part of her longed to be next to Voronwë, or Voron, as she'd nicknamed her strong, four legged friend. He was much more accomodating by way of games than what seemed to be strict judgement by a few elves on the poor dwarf, Kóna. She raised a brow. How could anyone stand for that?

"Please excuse me," Calen approached the tall elf.

"You realize who you speak to? Kóna is a beautiful master of her craft. She builds castles that reach the sky, citadels that stretch for miles, and this very foundation you stand on right now. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sinarfin. She gave you a place to stand, a place to feast and be merry, and you treat her like piss. The only stone rat I see around here is yourself."

She took a sip of her wine and smiled.

"I wouldn't be so quick to judge. You ought to be grateful you've met Kóna. She has a fine eye for exquisite detail. I find myself quite in love with her works. You could hire all the elves in the world to build your palace, even your friends, but none would get it quite right the way she and her fellow dwarves do. Our fingers aren't made for labor and dirt," she explained in a calm manner.

"When was the last time you stepped in her shoes and built something majestic for your beloved king, Sinarfin? Never? I surely hope that if you do ever find yourself in need of assistance finding your way around the tunnels because you want to prove you hold superiority over her, you'd have Kóna to lead the way. I don't quite believe you'd make it out alive."

 

[Red Thunder]

​

At Calen's words of correction, Kóna blinked, somewhat taken aback. If not actually becoming engaged with further dismissive words, she had at the least presumed that this newest she-elf would have merely chuckled and continued on her way. Yet, oddly, she interjected a sort of defense of the Dwarf, if perhaps not terribly well considered.

Sinarfin did not find it amusing.

"It's unbecoming of you, Calenduin, to speak thus in the Dwarf's defense. He-" The Elf Lord started, realization striking like a hammer blow in his mind. "She? Ah, well; I had not realized.

"Forgive me, madam." The apology tumbled off his lips in as flamboyantly exaggerated a manner as the deep bow he now performed. He sneered. "Had I but known, I would not have addressed your unloveliness; I'd have assumed it obvious."

Kóna's eyes became narrow as she examined him, the shifting of her stance speaking clearly to her desire to make use of axe. Orithel, maybe, recognized this for the threat it was, and she placed an insistent hand on his arm.

"Sinarfin, come; you will make us late."

She glanced at Kóna with a small widening of the eyes, and her companion nodded, taking her hand in his.

"Very well. Enjoy your stone rat, Calenduin! Try to avoid the fleas."

Laughing, he and his coterie drifted away, leaving Kóna alone with the defender of her honor.

"I haven't actually built any of this, you know. For having fingers 'not made for labor and dirt', your people did an acceptable job. We are here to expand and improve upon the work of your king." She paused, head tilting in thought. "You've just arrived yourself."

There was a question in the statement. Though Calenduin clearly knew both the king and Sinarfin, it was not the familiarity of joint occupancy. Calenduin was as much a visitor here as the Dwarves were.

 

[junebug]

Calenduin raised a brow at Sinarfin. He must've been well acquainted with her family to know her name, not that it bothered her. Calenduin knew she was a well-acquainted individual all around, known for her charm and friendliness. She paid him no mind and turned back to the female dwarf, smiling at Kóna's dismissal. If it was true that elves like herself and the king had built this castle from scratch, Calen was truly lacking in the knowledge of architectural history among elves.

"I hadn't realized, however, the lie was enough to get that rat off your backside, wasn't it? Elves can be condescending, no doubt. Even I get ahead of myself sometimes without realizing it."

She placed her clear wine glass on a large silver platter passing by and focused all her attention back on Kóna.

"I've just arrived from far from home to see my cousin and his magnificent work. Word travels fast in a large family. You say you're here to expand upon the castle of His Majesty? Pray tell, what projects have you previously done, if you don't mind my asking?"