On the banks of river Narog, a group of elves stood guard around an entourage of Nargothrondim including princess Finduilas and Lord Celebrimbor. It was the princess' idea that they would take a breath of fresh air, away from the heat and smoke of the forge for him and away from court intrigue for her, away from any dark thoughts that the recent turmoil caused by the death of King Finrod might bring. Said group of elves from the city had spread towels, picnic baskets and were enjoying the chill of the water, some swimming, a couple fishing. The elves of the royal guard kept strict vigil around the leisuring elves, and Carniquesse wondered for a second what they thought about this “get-away” as the princess called it.
To her, it felt frivolous and irresponsible. While the scouts of Talath Dirnen kept an ever tight eye around orc movements on the plains and report any anomaly as fast as a bird's flight it didn't mean their folk could frolick careless as if they were still living in the early years of Beleriand. “If you frown any more you'll look like an eagle” Cúnion, the scoutmaster grinned at her. She grimaced. “We are on duty” she simply said.
“Yes, and I am sure nothing will get past your gaze even if you let a couple words escape you. Time to change post, take my place near the river bank”. Suppressing a sigh, the elleth saluted and jogged to the spot Cúnion was watching: a curve the river formed where the water level was low enough to be crossed, gravel and grey sand showing in patches to be rode on as well as a few smooth rocks that could be jumped over on foot. The crossing was usually used by riders and messengers but that day, instead of the sound of hooves the chattering of melodious voices disturbed her ears. She groaned internally. Her sensitive ears could pick up the faint sound of a fox in the undergrowth of a forest and she was good at picking apart different sounds but it didn't mean she was used to hear cacophony and noise. She rather hated it in fact.
She scanned the horizon left and right: the vast plains covered with pale green grass, dotted here and there by wildflowers showed no movement but that of the wind and the midday sun gave no space to shadows. To the north, jutting out of the moorland the hill of Amon Rûdh looked down on the whole plains. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Carniquesse hazarded a quick glance to the merrymaking elves. She noticed Lord Celebrimbor smiling and nodding along something the princess was saying, sipping wine from a portable pitcher but the moment she turned to talk to someone else, his face immediately became somber and frowny, slowly stepping aside to be on his own. Much like herself, the huntress mused. She was no mind reader but she could make an educated guess, the ellon felt guilty over the death of King Finrod. Of course it wasn't his fault, he bravely stood his ground defying his father's and uncle's command along with the rest of the feanorian followers but once the anger and defiance subdued, he probably realized to be alone, in the midst of people who let him stay but looked over the shoulder, ready to remind him that his family put them all into that mess.
The huntress herself held no love for the sons of Feanor, but neither did she blame the boy for his father's sins. She could understand him wanting nothing more than spend his days in the forge, where no side eye nor hushed tongues could disturb him. That is how she felt in the wilderness. Princess Finduilas must have bothered him incessantly for him to cave in. The elleth was like that, cheerful and gentle like a spring day, an optimist and a beacon of light. Unfortunately, thought the huntress, also naive. The princess was not made for that world east of the sea. She was made for the Blessed Lands, for an unmarred world not for those pale green plains, where the river Narog barely carried Ulmo's song and protection.
***
It was past midday now and the merrymakers refreshed themselves splashing in the shallow water. If it was up to her she would have ordered them all back into the city. It was not her place though, so she kept on watching, in silence. Had it been another time and another life she might have joined them. It was not meant to be; she was born in a time and place where war always loomed on the horizon and she felt its grip grow tighter every turn of the seasons, inexorably like the river's flow. How ironic that she would feel more kinship towards a renegade feanorian than her own princess... she wasn't entirely comfortable with that thought either.
Luckily for her, before her meandering thoughts took her somewhere she didn't like, one of the royal guards called that it was time to go home. She intercepted Cúnion's gaze who simply pointed at a point up the river to the northeast. Nodding, she sprinted in that direction, glad that she could leave the group of elves and scout alone. She had enough distractions in one day and the bubbling sound of the Narog a much better company than idle chattering. Night was soon approaching, and with it, blessed silenc
