A small, amused smile pulled at one corner of his mouth, and he glanced briefly to her before he returned his eyes to the path in front of them.
“My heritage is…complicated,” he said. Truly he felt no more identification with any of the many cultures that had been passed down to him than the others, for they had blended together so seamlessly in his childhood that they were all thoroughly ingrained in him by now. Human, Noldo, Sinda–he was all of them, all at once. That was why peredhel was such a convenient label–it referred to his father and siblings only, and connoted all of the complications of their line with no fuss.
“Primarily, I am of my father’s house–Elrond. I suppose you wish for more detail than that,” he said. He knew his own lineage quite well–she was lucky to have met him and not Elladan, who knew only vaguely and did not much care. “And I assume, by the looks of you, that you want the elvish side.”
He thought for a moment before he spoke again.
“I never know how far back to go, I will admit. My siblings and I are related to Thingol from both sides, and Finwë from both as well–Finarfin from my mother’s side, from her mother, and Fingolfin, Turgon, from my father’s side. Sometimes I wonder at it…but I suppose that’s not much help. Was there someone in particular you were thinking of?”
She could relate, though not in the same matter. While he was a mix of race and culture, her family simply such complexities that details tended to be overwhelming and cause for pause. Especially on a particular uncle’s bran ch of the tree.
Yet silence was yielded, allowing the younger to speak of his heritage. And lo, did such a smile settle upon her lips as he spoke of his lineage. Simply looking at his features, she could tell that he was of the House of Elrond. That Noldor blood boiled through his veins. Their traits were ever prominent, even when clashed with elves of other descents.
“ I knew you had to be of Elrond’s kin..” She spoke softly, attempting to contain her smile. The formality of the lord of the land was dropped, not from disrespect, but simply of familiarity. She never referred to those of her kin as Kings or Lord unless addressing to unknown parties.
Aredhel allowed for pause, hoping that the gears may begin to move in his mind.
“ You have mentioned precise who I was thinking of.” The older turned her head, offering a prideful grin. Her excitement could barely be contained. “ I suppose I should formally introduce myself, as an explanation for my curiosity.”
“ From the House of Fingolfin, we share a similarity.” Her aura radiated with satisfaction, pleased with the evidence that her kin had somehow survived the misfortunes of their oath. “ For I am Irissë, Daughter of High King Nolofinwë, Sister of High King Turukáno. And if you are Elrond’s son, then that would make me your... distant Aunt.”
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