Not For Arda

[Curufin]

Discussion thread for this RP is here.

DATE: This RP begins in year 383 of the First Age - Andreth is 22 (26 years before the Athrabeth takes place. Nargothrond was founded around F.A. 102.

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Finrod rose from his desk, shuffling the papers he was reading into a slightly neater pile, rubbing his forehead and the bridge of his nose as if he had been studying too long. A single candle flickered, but it was burning low, and did little to combat the oppressive darkness of Nargothrond. Finrod lit another candle, putting it in the wall basket. Despite the darkness, he found his home comfortable. Damp and cool in the summer, damp and warm in the winter, the caves maintained a constant temperature. The damp was easily banished by roaring fires that were kept in nearly every room - although he did not have his lit now.

Leaving his chambers and going into the more brightly lit hallway, he made his way towards his great hall. Several guards acknowledged him as he passed, and he nodded to them. The silver threads in his blue tunic - which matched the silver circlet in his golden hair - caught the glint of the candles as he walked by.

Entering the Great Hall, he paused a moment to take stock of who had arrived and who was gone. The hunting party, it appeared, had returned, but the messenger he had sent to his brothers in Dorthonion had not. He would not worry yet, however - it was a long journey, and they would have to go carefully. He had received a letter from his brother Aikanáro asking an audience with him; something that had suprised Finrod more than a little. Aikanáro rarely sought his counsel, and he knew that it must be a serious matter indeed for him to do so. He had written back promptly that he would be welcome at Nargothrond any time he chose to arrive. That had been four days prior.

But for now, he would not fret - it was not so very long for a messenger to be gone. Standing at the entrance to the room, leaning slightly against the doorframe, he smiled at the scene within. There was laughter and happiness. There were even a few elf-children playing with a few human children who had sought refuge within. He was glad to see the interaction. Men were not to be looked down upon or despised, but accepted and respected for their own talents and abilities. He found them pleasant, if brief, and it saddened him greatly that so many men he had known in ages past had passed on to wherever their fate took them. The Eldar had no knowledge of the Fate of Men, other than that they did not go to Mandos - at least in the sense that the Eldar did.

Entering the room, Finrod chose a place on the floor near where the children were playing, and sat among them, cross-legged.

'May I join?'