I took advantage of the editorial mistake in The Silmarillion and assumed Fingon had a wife and a son :) Please excuse the lame title, I am not particulary good at choosing titles... Hope you'll enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it^^

And all credit goes to Tolkien, even my "OCs" owe him 90% of their lives.


Chapter 1

Maitimo was resting on a bench, his back laid against the bare stone wall. He had not said a word since he had came in and merely looked at the mason, Carmo, and his nephew, Ristion, who were both sitting at a large wooden table, on which lied several parchment pieces. They were studying these carefully, sometimes adding a note here, a line there, and they were so immersed in their work, they had barely uttered a word or two since noon. Their workshop was always a quiet place to be at in the afternoon, as most of their workers were out busying themselves at the walls and they would not be returning before sunset. Then again, only a few of them would come back to report matters worth being pointed out. On most days, Carmo and Ristion would only spend mornings at the construction site and if no specific works required their supervision, they would devote their time left to draw plans. And for that they needed not much talk, and it was this busy yet peaceful atmosphere Maitimo sought in their presence.

Usually, Carmo's daughter, Ilmië, would also join them and sit in a corner, near the fireplace, where she would embroider. She was as silent and focused as her father and cousin. She would also keep an eye on Maitimo, although she was always careful not to be too obvious about it and would only glance at him once in a while, when she knew he was completely wrapped in his mind and unaware of his surroundings. The healers had asked her to check on him, as they were still reluctant to let him wander around the fortress, but dared not forbid him to do so. Fortunately, Maitimo had not yet any interest in going much more farther than the gardens (those were hardly completed for the time being) and the mason's workshop. He had known Carmo, back in Valinor, and felt at ease around him and his family, mostly because they didn't seem to be paying him much attention. Maitimo loved being so anonymous among them, he thought he also needed such calm to heal properly.

Like many others, Ilmië had been shocked when she had first seen Maitimo after he was rescued from the Thangorodrim by Findekáno. Their time had been short in Beleriand and Noldor were not yet accustomed to the atrocities Morgoth could come up with, if such thing was even possible. No prisoner had ever come back from Angband and no one had been seen that had survived the atrocious tortures Morgoth inflicted on Elves. Three months had passed and Maitimo was recovering fast, very fast, for he was a son of Fëanor and a flame burned in his eyes that the darkest schemes of the Enemy would never quench. But still laid on his handsome face a shadow, and on his shoulders weighted heavy burdens he might never be able to overcome. Ilmië could tell his body would regain all of its initial strength, if not more, and she could also tell his left hand would swing swords with as much might as his right hand had had. However, whenever she would lay her eyes on him, she felt a tinge of pity for Maitimo and it pained her. She would never admit one of the greatest Noldorin Lord inspired her such a pathetic feeling.

When twilight neared, Maitimo slowly left the workshop, after having quietly nodded to Carmo, Ristion and Ilmië. The latter soon followed him as she had promised some of the ladies she would spend the evening in their company - they had insisted she was the most skilled seamstress among them. It was true, Ilmië, daughter of Lanyë, the Weaver, was renowned for her fast and dexterous fingers and it was said she could turn any well-worn piece of fabric into an embroidered marvel. This reputation had not been of much use during their terrible journey over the ice of Helcaraxë, nor on the battlefield, but now that the Noldor were settling in Hithlum, trivial details of domestic life became part of everyday's worries again and the ladies set to embellish the newly built halls of Barad Eithel. They had a lot of work ahead of them, in a way as much as her father's workers, and Ilmië was lost in thoughts of thread and needles. She did not feel him coming and she could not possibly have heard him for his steps were swift and light.

- Lady Ilmië, if you would be so kind as to allow me some of your time, I would like to have a word with you.

The prince Findekáno had gracefully bowed and he was now standing still, a gentle light shining in his grey eyes.

- Of course, my Lord, she replied quickly, deeply bowing herself.

He motioned towards a nearby balcony to where he followed Ilmië. For a moment, Findekáno gazed at the sky and then he said :

- Lately, my dear cousin Maitimo has been spending most of his afternoons in your father's workshop.

- Indeed, it seems that Lord Maitimo has taken a liking in masonry.

- I do not doubt that Lord Carmo's craft is highly interesting, but I'm afraid this is not what I wish to discuss with you. I ...

He paused for a while.

- Lady Ilmië, what are your thoughts on my cousin?

It was a rather direct and unexpected question and Ilmië who, unlike most Noldor, was not so fast to speak her mind was caught off guard.

- My lord, I am not sure I understand the meaning of your question.

Findekáno smiled briefly.

- Excuse me, it was perhaps too hasty of me. I meant to inquire about your opinion on my cousin's recovery, since you have been spending quite some time with him over the last weeks. The healers told me they asked you to keep an eye on him while he is at your father's workshop, and I can only assume you fulfilled this task dutifully.

Ilmië remained silent for a while. She needed to sort out her thoughts on the matter as she knew the Prince was not worried about his cousin's physical recovery, but that he was asking her about his mental state. While his brothers and his best friend stayed by his side and did all they could to help him, Maitimo only seemed to try escape them.

- What can I say, my lord? she sighed. Lord Maitimo's soul is but a great fire, his... his captivity hasn't affected that.

She fell silent again, and said :

- He will soon fight with even a greater will than before.

Ilmië could not tell further. She would not say a word about this pity the sight of Maitimo stirred in her. She would not say a word about the Oath. She would not say a word about the kinslaying. The boats that were burned down. The ice. Findekáno knew better than her what doom had befallen on his cousin and on all of them.

- I thank you, lady Ilmië. Your words ease me.

Nonetheless, she could see great worry overshadowing Findekáno's eyes and yet again pity filled her heart. They parted, exchanging a few courteous words, and Ilmië remained alone for a while, on the balcony. She would soon hurry to the other ladies, who were waiting for her, but she first had to regain control of her feelings. She breathed deeply and the fresh evening air soothed her. She reminded that day so well, even though it had happened a long time ago, well before the darkness.


Back in Valinor, Ilmië's father, Lord Carmo, had worked in a few different places. Having wed a Vanya lady, he spent some time in her people's city on Taniquetil, but he had also taken part in the great constructions that occurred in Alqualondë. In addition, Lord Carmo had lived a while in Formenos, even though his loyalty laid in the house of Nolofinwë, for King Finwë himself had required his services there. His wife and his young daughters had often followed him and dwelled in many houses and halls, and Lord Carmo had thus formed close ties of friendship with many Elven lords. Some years before Morgoth was released by the Valar, Lord Carmo had settled for good in Tirion, or so he thought, and his daughters had the opportunity to make a great deal of new acquaintances among the most respected lords and ladies of the Noldor. And during one of those great feasts held by the house of Nolofinwë, Lord Carmo's eldest daughter, Ilmië, had had the chance to be formally introduced to the sons and daughter of prince Nolofinwë.

It probably wasn't the first time Ilmië saw Findekáno, but never before had she been allowed to look at him this close. He was radiant that day, tall and strong, his dark long plaits braided with gold were twinkling in the light of Laurelin, and his grey eyes shone like stars, full of wisdom and kindness. Ilmië had seen her fair share of splendid Elves, she had laid her eyes on some of the greatest beings in Valinor, and yet her heart had not known such a powerful turmoil before she met Findekáno on that day. Afterwards, she had barely danced or sung and she had ignored the pleads of the other ladies who would have her join their games. She had been pleased enough to gaze at him, however far he stood from her, and secretly she had vowed to she would wed no one but an Elf noble enough as to match prince Findekáno. And as long as she lived in the eternal bliss of Valinor, Ilmië had often taken great pleasure in catching a glimpse of the Prince and, being satisfied this way, never looked for more. But then, back in those days, happiness had always been at hand.


She was surprised her feelings had resurfaced so fast, so easily. Ilmië had thought the sadness that caused her eyes to fill with tears whenever the beautiful faces of her mother and sister came to her mind left no room for any other emotion. They had stayed in Valinor and, in all honesty, Ilmië was convinced their paths would not cross again. She had chosen to follow her father, for she could not bear to think of how lonely and miserable his life would be if none of his "three dearest treasures" was to be by his side. And so Ilmië had figured her new role in Beleriand to be that of a devoted daughter and she was glad the only Elf that possibly could divert her from duty was Findekáno. She wouldn't have many opportunities to meet him, even less to talk with him privately. They both had their own business to take care of.


For names, I decided to use their Quenya names (I must admit I live Quenya more) and will only use their Sindarin names when Sindarin characters will come up. Ilmië comes from "Ilma" - "Starlight", Carmo "Car" - "to build", Ristion "son of the cutter, cleaver" from "Rista" - "to cut, cleave" and Lanyë "Lanya" - "to weave". I gave them pretty straightforward/short names, I thought it'd suit them better than longer/complicated names.

Also, although I didn't really state it, Ilmië and her family are of noble blood, I picture them being part of some great house like those 12 houses of Gondolin. So they're far from being commoners, but the eldest son of the High King is still a long shot (as in, it wouldn't be a scandal if they get married, but it's difficult to get his attention in the first place).