Year 4 of the First Age
Summer

LAKE MITHRIM

Six sets of horse hooves pounded upon the solid ground around Lake Mithram. Finno almost couldn't hear his own thoughts as they made for the neutral site between camps that Kánafinwë had requested they journey to.

The large tent, whose open flaps for doors faced the sparkling waters, had been Eve's idea. His father hadn't agreed immediately. But it became clearer as time passed that some sort of meeting place would be necessary. No one wanted to feast or mingle with the followers of Fëanáro. But they were still strangers in this land, even as the years passed. Divided they would surely be defeated.

So Eve suggested they start with one tent. One shared meeting place. He looked up from his brown stallion as they approached it. Women from both camps had sewn tapestries. Eve's contribution was a sigil of the House of Finwë, hanging where the door flaps joined together at the top.

Three horses already stood near a red banner on the far side. They slowed. Finno glanced over at Eve as he slid from his steed. This marked the first time she had been willing to meet with her adopted brothers since she'd left their camp. He could see the anxiety on her face, still beautiful in the golden rays of the sun despite the fear. She wiped a few red strands of her hair behind her ear.

Finno turned around. Lámino, Voronwa, and Raumolírë dismounted as one unit. "Stay out here. Lámino, you take up position at the door."

With a small gesture, he pointed to where one of Kánafinwë's own guard captains stood beside the entrance, and the other with their own horses. They would mirror the others for now. 

Eve walked over to him, an uncertain attempt at a smile on her face. "Ready?"

"No." Finno shuffled his feet, forcing away echoes of Itarillë's terrified screams as he clutched her to his freezing chest. "But that does not matter. We are here, aren't we?" He also tried to smile.

Eve gave a light laugh, grabbing his hand and placing it on her cheek. For a moment, he could feel the warmth of the sun spread through him from her embrace. Finno stopped breathing.

"You really are terrible at trying to smile when you don't want to," she whispered, leaning in so only he could hear. "Though I doubt I'm much better."

Finno grinned. He lowered his head so he was but inches from her ear. "You would be correct. But it is cool."

She squeezed his hand and shook her head with a real smile that reached all the way to her eyes. Finno took a deep breath. He focused on his wife. She was good.

Finno led the way. There was no age in which he would ask Eve to be the first inside, the first to face Kánafinwë. The Fëanorian captain did not spare a glance as he passed inside. 

Kánafinwë wore black. The sunlight that streamed in through the open flaps did little to illuminate him where he stood, arms across his chest, staring down at the central table. It took all Finno's poise not to pause in the doorway, remembering hurled accusations upon his reunion with Eve. Where had Káno been, when he'd watched the life leave his little brother's eyes upon this new land? Where had Finno, or Nolofonwë, been when Finwë had stood alone defending the beauty Fëanáro had created?

When he met Kánafinwë's piercing gaze, he heard his half-cousin's voice in his head. "Hello, Findekáno."

The sounds of unsheathing blades stopped either from continuing. Finno spun around. Hyamindo, an unfailingly faithful protector of Eve, stood with his arm in front of her, blade out. Though she protested the action, he didn't flinch. Kánafinwë's captain also had his sword out, blocking entrance.

Finno hurried forward, reaching for his own weapon. "If you harm either of them—"

But Kánafinwë shouted over him. "What is the meaning of this?"

Neither Hyamindo nor the other Captain moved. Neither sheathed their swords. But likewise, neither pushed the threat further.

Eve scowled. "Too easily do you draw your sword, Fínion."

Fínion. Finno glanced at the captain again. That had been his name! Often he had enjoyed the company of Káno, Elemmírë, and other minstrels while in Valinor. His chest tightened, realizing how easily he had forgotten the man's name. But of course Eve had not.

"I will not permit your guard to enter the tent, no matter the circumstance," Fínion said. 

The venom in his voice when addressing Hyamindo, an elf he undoubtedly knew, simply as the guard surprised Finno. But he realizes it shouldn't have. There was anger in all who had followed Fëanáro, prince of anger.

"And I will not permit Lady Elmendë to leave my sight," Hyamindo said. "Too easily do you forget your loyalties, Fínion."

"I forget? Look whose company you keep, Hyamindo! You may still wear red but those around you are all in blue."

"Hey!" Eve tried to push through Hyamindo once more, face flushing.

"That is enough," Kánafinwë said. He reached the door before Finno could. With a fury, Káno ripped the sword from Fínion's hand and threw it to the ground. "Trade places with Imbelosso. Apparently guarding horses is a better task for you than guarding your lord."

Red in the face, Fínion stepped backwards with a curt bow and hushed apology to his lord. He had to stoop to grab his sword.

Hyamindo sheathed his own. Finno glanced Eve over quickly, but he knew she was fine. Physically, at least. And based on the way she chewed at her cheek but said nothing, he figured she felt more annoyed than startled.

"Of course, if Lady Elmendë requests your presence, you shall be allowed in," Kánafinwë said. 

"I do."

Finno nodded. He forced himself to stay silent. She could voice her opinion well enough without him. But he would've said much the same.

It was only after Eve sat that he and Kánafinwë did the same. He could've cut the tension with one of the golden strands braided through his hair. But Kánafinwë had requested this meeting. Finno would not break the silence first.

"I have been deep in thought these last few months." Káno spoke quietly, almost as if to himself, before he straightened up further in his chair and nodded. "I thank you for agreeing to meet."

"Why are you wearing all black, Káno?" Eve said.

All black. Right. Finno felt his heart sink. That had been his first thought as well. And though he feared he knew the answer, he wanted to hear it from his half-cousin before he'd believe it.

"I have decided to finally accept the title of High King."

A title he did not deserve. Finno's fists clenched tightly where he kept them below the table top. For many reasons, he did not deserve it. 

Eve didn't move. At her silence, Finno looked closer and saw the tears in her eyes. He quickly took her hand.

"He's gone, then?" 

Kánafinwë shrugged. He massaged his forehead, hiding his own face. But then he drew himself up. "It's been a long time since we had any word of him. Even if he lives, he is far beyond our grasp." He shook his head. "No. Nelyo is dead."

"But you have no confirmation of that!" Eve said. She let go of Finno's hand, gesturing towards her brother. "He could be alive! You can't just give up!"

Kánafinwë covered his mouth for a moment. Then he turned to Finno. "Could you give us a moment?"

Finno hesitated.

Eve did not. "No! He stays. What you wish to say to me you can say also to my husband." 

The silence in the tent went on for so long, Finno almost broke it. But he didn't have to.

"Very well." Káno glanced away for a moment, then back at them both. "I fear what will happen if I do not take the kingship."

"In what way," Finno said. 

"Our brothers." Káno looked at Eve, leaning over the table as if to get closer to her. "They aren't doing well."

Finno looked at Eve. She had spent days and nights working to forgive them all in her hearts. As they lay in bed, she would sometimes speak of the prayers she'd learned in her old life, the morality she had grown up believing. She had forgiven Nelyo years ago. From the time they had reunited once more under the sun, she had stressed that he alone of all the elves had spoken against Fëanáro and stood aside while the ships burned. 

Kánafinwë had not. And as Finno turned back to him, he wondered if he and his brothers would ever wage war on their cousins here under the sun, instead of on their common foe?

"How so?" Eve said.

"Tyelko has become more erratic," Káno said. "But he turns all his hatred on the servants of the enemy. He and his hunters rarely return to our encampment. I fear he will get himself killed in the same way our father did—underestimating the Enemy."

He stood up, turning to pacing to calm his nerves. "Telvo sometimes rides with them. I fear for him most," he said. "He is different since he lost Ambarussa. Colder." Káno shook his head.

Finno grabbed Eve's hand. Sometimes she would stir in sleep, screaming about fire the same way he would scream about the grinding ice. 

"And Curvo." Káno laughed, but there was no mirth in it. "Curvo urges them on. Speaks of nothing but strategy, weaponsmithing, and revenge." He slumped back down. "I never thought I would say this, but Moryo is the least of my worries. He may have an outburst of anger but his is at the dinner table. The others have theirs on the battlefield."

Finno did not dare to break the silence. It was not his place.

"I fear if I do not take the kingship, I will lose control of them all together," Káno said.

Eve frowned. A few tears rolled down her face, and Finno squeezed her hand tighter as he looked back down at the dark wooden table. His stomach churned.

"But Nelyo could still be alive," Eve repeated. "You can't abandon him."

"Eve. I am being realistic. I do not feel hopeful—"

She slammed on the table. "Hope is not a feeling! Hope is a choice!"

Finno watched her, eyes wide. She had let go of his hand and stood from her seat, causing even Hyamindo to take a half step back. It seemed to him that all the anger and sadness that had been fighting in her heart had all burst out at once.

"Hope is a choice," she said. "You choose it."

"And if I cannot?" 

Finno watched as a shadow fell on his face. At first, he wondered if it was his imagination. But several shouts from outside, calling for both himself and Káno, proved otherwise.

As they exited the tent, they all looked up. Smoke, a mix of black and a horrific green, began to snake in tendrils like hands across the sky from the three mountains of Morgoth. The sun fell behind the darkness.

"Fínion!" Káno shouted his command, without looking away from the sky. "Ready the horses!"

Finno grabbed Eve's hand. They had found hope again, love again under the sun. And now Morgoth sought to steal it away just as he had stolen so much else.

Morgoth had stolen his grandfather. He had stolen their innocence. It had been Morgoth who stole the light of Telperion and Laurelin. Morgoth stole their peace. He stole their friendship.

"I must get back," Káno said. But he held a small package out to Eve. "Nixiel baked these. She wished you to have them. And Eve. I will think on what you said."

She nodded, accepting the leather bound package gratefully. "Please do. And tell her I miss her company."

Káno nodded. Without another word, he leapt atop his steed and hurried away as the noxious twilight continued to spread.

"My lord, your horse." Voronwa guided his steed while Hyamindo had gotten Eve's. "We must go."

But Finno continued to watch the darkening sky. How much more would they allow Morgoth to take from them?

Hope was a choice. Well then, it was time he made a choice.

"I am going to find him," Finno said, taking Eve aside for a moment. "I will."

He couldn't tell if the tears flowing down her cheeks were for him, for them, or for the world. But he wiped them away.

Eve grabbed his hands. "Bring him home." The tears kept falling, but she closed her eyes, and squeezed his hands even tighter. "You know I would follow you. But Itaril—"

"Your place is by her side right now," he said. Finno felt his throat constricting as he watched her cry in the gloom. But she was right. They both knew it. He pulled her into a hug. "I won't tell you not to cry. As you said, hope is not a feeling."

"Bring him home, Finno," she said, choking on her sobs as she buried into his shoulder. 

He looked over her head at Hyamindo. Wordlessly, he spoke to him. "Keep her safe."

Hyamindo nodded.

Stepping back, Eve held out the package of food from Nixiel. "Take it. You'll need it more than I will."

Finno tied it onto his horse's saddle bags. Mercifully, his three Captains stayed silent and did not try to sway him. He knew they would catch hell from his father and Turvo both when they returned without him. But he could not risk going back to camp only to be forbidden from leaving.

With the package secured to his horse, he turned back to Eve. She didn't wait any longer to kiss him, and as Finno closed his eyes, he forced himself to remember better days filled with ice and snow. Before death. Before darkness. 

Nelyo had been there the day Finno had kissed Eve amongst the snowy bows of western slopes of the Pelori Mountains and asked her to be wed. 

And as Finno mounted his horse beneath Morgoth's foul darkness, he decided to believe that the next time he kissed her, Nelyo would be at their side again.