Dior had worked in secrecy to create a gift which would please all of his family, from his wife to his children. Naught had he told of his plans, except for craftsmen he charged with creating what he had imagined. The family lived now in Doriath and in the underground palace of Menegroth, which was so very different from their previous home. They all so adored the clear streams, green meadows, and majestic trees from where they had come from. Wherever he could, he found what was similar in their new home. He had found what pleased them about the kingdom of his grandfather.
The Heir of Thingol led his family out into the woods, footfalls soft on the blanket of snow. He told them to close their eyes as he led them under trees to a clearing. Already, perhaps some of his present had been revealed for here the cries and calls of the birds increased to a symphony of birdsong.
"All right, everyone look!" he announced with a smile and a flourish ahead of them. Hanging from the branches of large, old trees, and standing atop wooden posts, were intricate birdhouses and feeders, already stocked with nuts and seeds for the birds to treat themselves to. There were many different types of birds all about: robins, blackbirds, starlings, thrushes. They sang their differing songs to one another and it echoed about the white clearing. Perhaps this could be something to spark their interest and their love for Doriath.
From under his flowing icy blue cloak he produced small pouches of some more gathered seeds and handed one each to Eluréd, Elurín, and Elwing.
"Happy Yule and winter solstice, my sweetest darlings," he said, pulling all of them into his sweeping arms and then straightening again and moving close to Nimloth for a short kiss. "And to you, my Queen."
🍳 Sharing his eggs with Eluréd because Eluréd won't eat the food Maedhros gave him but he has seen Elurín eat from his own plate and not die! ( @elurinlost )
Elured just stared out the window, heaving a great sigh. He wasn't afraid of Maedhros, not really. It wasn't like he was going to hurt them. Otherwise he'd never let Elurin get so close with him. But Elured didn't have to like him.
"Hm?" He looked down at the plate bumping his arm then mustered up a smile for his brother. "I'm not hungry. You eat up."
🪡 Carefully stitch the receiver's wound with steady hands. (Wards of Maedhros when they're older? @elurinlost )
Elured exhaled shakily through his nose, jaw clenched. He kept his gaze focus on a training pitch dummy slanting haphazardly to one side over his brother's shoulder.
"I'm sorry." He didn't like his brother having to see blood. But he couldn't bare to let another tend his wounds either.
Elwing is presented with a big cuddle and then a painting of all her favourite birds. It is pretty good for a boy of his age, showing promising talent. He just hopes she likes it!
@elurinlost
Elwing squealed happily as her older brother cuddled her, and then, the bird painting! They were perfect pictures of her birds— just like they were out her very window. “Finch,” she said, pointing to one with a giddy beam. “Cardinal! Plover!” Clearly she liked it very much. “I love you!” She hugged Elurín back, tightly around his middle.
Thingol gets dubious-looking scrambled eggs cooked by his enthusiastic but silent great-grandson. @elurinlost
The tall elf knelt down before his great-grandson when he presented the scrambled eggs he had cooked seemingly all by himself. Thingol smiled warmly at the boy, even though he had seen much more appetizing food before. It was not so bad after all, not for a being as young as Elurín still was.
He took the plate and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "You made this just for me?" he asked, voice full of emotion for the son of Dior. The youngest members of his family never ceased to amaze him. "All by yourself? There is much more to you than you let on, child."
" ... Elwing...? " His chest heaved with exertion, wide silver eyes fixed on the woman in front of him. Surely not... no. His sister had died, just like his brother. His sword clattered to the ground and Elurín felt the world spin. No. No this wasn't- he hadn't raised a sword to his little sister. ( @elurinlost )
There were two Elwings.
There was the noble Elwing, the valiant princess who carried a Silmaril from Doriath, the daughter and sister of many stories. The Elwing who had raised herself out of the very depths of sorrow and escaped great tragedy, who even now was concealed with her heirloom, the last light of the sun and moon, from the eyes of the sons of their creator. The Elwing of poetic beauty, the Elwing who was only whispers.
Then there was Elwing. And this was a young woman who was unbearably tired. The few remaining marchwardens of Doriath who guarded her never strayed far, and she never lingered long, staying near Sirion but never quite remaining permanently. If she were to be more than shadow and rumor, she feared what had happened to her mother and father, her brothers— would once more come to pass. She walked by night between shadowed canopies of trees. She learned to skin rabbits and mend her own clothing and climb and run and swim very young. And when the time came, the guard who had watched her all her life had given Elwing a beautiful spear.
That very spear tumbled from her hands at the mere glimpse of Elurín.
Her brother was dead. She knew that for a fact. If he had lived he would’ve been found. Yet no other had eyes of the same silver as hers. No other had such starlit white hair, the very same as their ancestor Elwë Singollo, whose names she all muttered to herself nightly lest she forget. Whose freckles were like their father’s. She stared in shock.
“A ghost,” she breathed. This was the only explanation. She had gone too far north and east, and now was being followed by the ghosts of her family.
@elurinlost cooked eggs for his ada with Nimloth's help.
Dior had smelled the glorious scents emanating from the kitchen all morning and awaited the meal that his children wished to prepare for their parents. Nimloth had a little better handle of cooking with the things that Dior liked to gather around the woods near their home. They often liked to do these things with their babies in tow.
The half-elf grinned at Elurín proudly as he gave him the plate of eggs that he had made. "My little chef!" Dior pronounced, pulling his son into his arms and lifting him into the air so that he could bestow his forehead with a gentle kiss.
"These smell wonderful, Elurín. I am sure they taste just as well," he said, setting the child back down and taking a delicate bite of the slighty runny egg. He hummed in appreciation and nodded toward Elurín. "Just as I thought. Delicious!"
Procyon — Sender grabs Receiver’s hand before they can leave. Elurín to Dior -✧- @elurinlost
Dior stood ready with his sword in hand, having taken the twins and Elwing deep within the caverns of Menegroth, where they might be safe with the incoming attack of the Fëanorians. Rage and duty spurred them on as if they were the beasts of hell unleashed now upon the forsaken Doriath, without her Girdle.
The young peredhel king had risen to leave his children with their servants and guards, to take his wife to meet their enemy. However, he was stopped by the gentlest, warmest touch on his hand. Little fingers gripped tightly around his own and Dior looked down into the face of his dearest Elurín. How the majesty of his own grandfather had descended down to his boys. He sighed deeply but knelt down to be closer to his son's height, drawing him closer. If only he did not have to leave his children behind.
"Your mother and I must leave you, Elurín. You and your brother and sister will be safe deep within these halls. It is where you must stay so that you do not come to harm. We can handle ourselves, worry not," Dior assured in a soft tone, even as anxiety thrummed beneath his own chest in frantic heartbeat, the drum of doom.
