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There came a time when King Olwë of Alqualondë sent his daughter, Eärwen, to Tirion-upon-Túna.

Eärwen brought with her a host of servants and ladies and, to everyone's bafflement, an entire bevy of swans.

The Noldor were no strangers to pet birds, but they themselves tended to favor peacocks and other bright, flashy things. But swans? Beautiful and graceful as they might be on the water, they were a little understated. Even female peafowl boasted some intricacies and subtle flashes of color.

Swans, though? Well. They were just very plain, that was all. White was so boring in a world that boasted rich emeralds and crimsons and turquoise and gold and well, one got the idea.

Arafinwë puzzled over it during the whole of Princess Eärwen's formal reception at his father's court, and the next morning, he went out into the King's pastures, where all the palace animals were kept, in order to get a closer look.

He found there the swans being gently guided by a nís, some kind of swan-shepherdess.

This made sense. Even the peafowl who freely roamed Tirion had caretakers. Why should not these swans, especially so far from their home?

He followed at a distance as she lead them down to the water. Probably so that they could do swan things, he supposed.

There was likely a book on swans in his father's library. He should, perhaps, go read it. There was no sense in performing his own personal study on swans when no doubt fifty intrepid natural philosophers, all of them the finest the Noldor had to offer, had all conducted their own studies ages ago.

"Admiring my swans?"

Arafinwë started. For the first time, he noticed that the swan-shepherdess had approached him while he was occupied observing her bevy.

"Indeed, lady. There are not many around here. Not kept as pets, I mean."

The swan-shepherdess smiled. "You think they are pets?"

He hesitated. "Are they not?"

"They are more like... friends. Friends who require some care, particularly so far away from home. But they would not let the princess leave them behind."

"And so you are here?"

"And so I am here." She inclined her head. "Someone must keep them out of trouble and tend their hurts."

Arafinwë found a smile creeping onto his face. "May I ask your name, lady?"

She examined him a moment before saying, "I am called Alpawen."

Swan-maiden, Arafinwë thought. He didn't know much Telerin, but he thought that was how it translated. The Quenya form would have been Alquawendë. It was a fitting name for one of her profession. He wondered if it was a name of Foresight, or if she'd always loved to be with the swans, and so her mother or someone else had given her the name. Or maybe all maidens who tended swans in Alqualondë were given such a name.

Alpawen looked at Arafinwë expectantly, and he realized that she wanted his name in return.

"Ingoldo," he said, because it seemed appropriate. It was more humble, and more intimate for it. The formality of 'Arafinwë' was not always a boon.

"Ingoldo?" Alpawen looked at Arafinwë's hair.

"My mother wanted to make it clear to everyone just what kin I belonged to."

"I see," Alpawen smiled. "So Lady Indis called you 'the Noldo?'"

Arafinwë winced at how quickly she'd figured out what family he belonged to. Then again, there were only so many people with Vanyarin-gold hair in Tirion, and his mother-name wasn't exactly secret.

"She was very determined that no mistake be made." He did not add the context of his father's firstborn, who already referred to the children of Indis as Vanyarin bastards. He did not add that Findis, Nolofinwë, and Írimë had all been born with sufficiently dark hair that they could pass for Noldor, but Arafinwë was the spitting image of his mother. He did not add that his mother had feared how he might be recieved, particularly by Prince Fëanáro Serindion.

"And are you? Very Noldorin, that is?"

"I don't know. I don't feel like I am. I do not enjoy the debates that everyone else seems to."

"Yet you came here because you were curious about my swans," Alpawen said. "Curiosity is a very Noldorin trait."

"I suppose so." He mustered up a small smile. "Could you teach me about them, the swans?"

"Certainly. Come, I will introduce you and tell you their names."

He went with her. She told him many things that day. Her duties as swanherd, how she could whistle her swans to her, how strong the neck of a swan was, what they ate, the history of swans with her people and why they were so important, especially to the royal family.

They sat together on the bank of the swans' pool for much of this. They talked until the Laurelin waxed to her full strength, and Arafinwë enjoyed watching the play of the golden light across her skin and the sparkle in her eyes.

Alas, he had responsibilities to get to and so could not stay any longer. He was sad to go and promised to come again.

And so his regular visits to the King's pastures began.

The King's pastures were located on the Treeward side of Tirion, west northwest of the city.

Many animals wandered there. Cattle, horses, donkeys, peafowl, even a herd of alpacas that had once belonged to Míriel Serindë.

As the days passed, though, increasingly his favorite residents of the pastures were the swans. He acknowledged to himself that this was probably more to do with their mistress than anything else.

He didn't know, he doubted anything would come of it, he just kept coming back every morning. Each visit, she told him something new. About swans, about Alqualondë, about the Bay of Eldamar. In return, he told her about places he'd visited.

As it turned out, Alpawen had a wanderlust he hadn't thought to find in a swanherd. (Though perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised. She'd come all the way to Tirion hadn't she? Even if it was in the service of her princess.) She knew the eastern coast and Tol Eressea like the back of her hand. However, she was less than familiar with what lay inland.

So he told her about Valmar under the Two Trees, about each and every street in Tirion, about the smaller settlements of the Noldor scattered on either side of the Pelóri. And incidentally, throughout these stories, his family kept cropping up.

Findis teaching him to climb trees in Valmar. Nolofinwë guiding him through the streets of Tirion. Lalwendë taking him to lectures at the university. Visiting Fëanáro in the outer settlements. And while he spoke of them, he thought about them. Clever Fëanáro. Personable Findis. Diplomatic Nolofinwë. Witty Lalwendë. And he thought about how he could never measure up to any of them, how he would never be allowed to measure up to any of them.

The thing about Arafinwë was that he noticed things. He could feel things as well, with a kind of intuition unique to the Noldor. And that wasn't even touching on the Foresight inherited from his mother.

But. He was also the baby. His family didn't want to see "prodigy" from him. (His father already had that in Fëanáro anyway.) They wanted sweet innocence and peace-making.

Because Valar, did his family need a peacemaker.

He tried his best to oblige. It was exhausting.

But he didn't need to be that with Alpawen. It was liberating. She was liberating. It was nice to simply be himself for once, without constantly needing to brace himself for a conflict.

He started bringing his notebooks with him on his visits to the swans. He drew diagrams of the swans and often made notations of the things he observed about them.

He also drew Alpawen. Never in a portrait, of course. It was just... sometimes his pen would move aimlessly while he spoke with her, and afterward he'd look back through his notebook to find the shape of her eyes, the fall of her head scarf, the tilt of her brows.

Alpawen never asked to see what he was drawing, and for that he was grateful. He was hardly ready to explain things to himself yet, let alone explain himself to her.

One day, while he and Alpawen were talking, one of the King's peacocks made his way down to the water. There, he became annoyed at the multitude of swans in his way and began to peck at them. Arafinwë set aside his notebook and got up to help Alpawen separate the conflicting parties.

His notebook was then forgotten under the tree overlooking the swans' pond. That is, until many hours later, when in conference with Nolofinwë and he thought to check his notebook for a particular diagram of a particular bridge in need of maintenance.

His notebook was not there. He'd left it in the pastures. He needed to fetch it as soon as possible. What if Alpawen saw his doodles of her?

He hastily excused himself and walked as fast as he could back to the King's pastures.

It was then that he first glimpsed her hair. She'd removed her headscarf to comb it out, allowing it to cascade over her shoulder and dance lightly in the breeze.

It was silver, but not like the silver of the occasional silver-haired Noldo. Their hair was often grey and with a metallic sheen. No, Alpawen's hair was the silver of the Teleri, a white-silver, the silver of starlight.

The Teleri prized silver hair. Prized it like the Noldor prized... well, actually, Arafinwë wasn't sure if there was a direct comparison. The Teleri were just so fundamentally different from the Noldor.

But silver hair was a mark of direct descendancy from Enel and Enelyë, their eldest ancestors. It marked her as kin to Olwë, and by extension, his visiting daughter.

Feeling like he'd just witnessed something he was not supposed to, he ducked behind a tree and tried to banish the image from his mind. Of course, being an elf with perfect recall, this didn't work in the slightest.

Arafinwë began to wonder if she hid her hair simply as a matter of taste, as he'd first assumed, or if she wished to keep her blood connection to her mistress hidden. Either way, it was not his business. He would respect her choice.

Here, Arafinwë's thoughts were cut off by a loud, insistent shriek. He looked up with wide eyes to meet the gaze of his middle nephew, Kanafinwë. Kanafinwë was pointing at him with a chubby little finger, legs pumping, eyes alight with excitement.

Arafinwë plastered on a smile for the small child. It didn't matter that he was currently in his father's arms. Fëanáro, for his part, was paying no attention to Arafinwë, because his gaze was caught elsewhere, downhill toward the goose-cum-swan pond. Where Alpawen was.

Arafinwë swallowed and straightened, then said in a loud voice, "Brother Fëanáro! What brings you out this way? Have you seen my notebook?"

Fëanáro tore away his gaze from whatever had him transfixed and found Arafinwë. His brow knit and his mouth thinned in exasperation. "Arafinwë, if you cannot hold on to your notepads that is your problem, not mine. I'm not here to find things for you. We are here to introduce Kano to his grandmother's alpaca herd."

"Baba!" Kanafinwë attempted, at the very top of his voice.

Both Fëanáro and Arafinwë winced. The sheer volume Kanafinwë could reach was impressive, to say the least. "Yes, Kano, alpaca."

"Baba," Kanafinwë repeated, with just a hair less pitch and volume, visibly pleased with himself.

"Good job! Look how clever you are!"

Kanafinwë beamed at the praise and wrapped his arms around Fëanáro to give him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

As the child did this, Fëanáro's eyes met Arafinwë's again. He nodded down the hill. "Our visiting princess' swanherd?"

"Princess Eärwen's herd of swans, yes."

Fëanáro gave him a flat look. It was slightly ruined by the giggling baby who wanted to squish his father's face between his tiny little hands. Fëanáro quickly gave up judging Arafinwë with his eyes in favor of pretending to bite off Kanafinwë's fingers. This made Kanafinwë shriek with laughter.

Arafinwë took the opportunity to glance below. There was no possible way she was ignorant to their presences here now. Not with Kanafinwë's penchant for making a racket.

Alpawen was gone, though her swans remained. Perhaps she was simply out of sight?

"Well, Fëanáro, I wouldn't want to detain you and Kanafinwë any longer -- ah, I think I see my notebook now!" Arafinwë made his escape, hurrying to the tree a little further down the slope, where he and Alpawen had been sitting together earlier.

Kanafinwë made a distressed sound behind him.

Arafinwë stooped to gather his notebook, then glanced behind to see what was the matter. Kanafinwë was reaching for him. Arafinwë, despite his wariness of Fëanáro, was fond of babies, and so he trudged back.

As soon as he was in range, Kanafinwë lunged for him. Fëanáro, at Baby Number Two, managed to keep his grip. Arafinwë caught him anyway. Fëanáro reluctantly released Kanafinwë and Kanafinwë eagerly latched on to Arafinwë's hair.

And though Arafinwë supposed he should head back to Nolofinwë, he also supposed that this was his life now. After all, who could refuse a baby who was holding your hair hostage?

"I see the swanherd has disappeared," Fëanáro observed.

"I still see the flock," Arafinwë protested. Kanafinwë shoved some of his hair into his mouth.

"Stop pretending to be stupid, Arafinwë."

"Is it a pretense, though?"

Fëanáro narrowed his eyes at him.

Kanafinwë had begun to babble happily through Arafinwë's hair, ignorant to the tension around him. Arafinwë smiled his most pleasantly vacant smile.

Fëanáro snorted in disgust and reached to take Kanafinwë back. "Very well. If ignorance is the game you want to play, we will leave you to it."

Kanafinwë made predictably loud noises of protest and refused to release Arafinwë's hair.

It took several minutes of coaxing and careful prying before Arafinwë could extricate himself from this odd encounter.

By the time he got back to Nolofinwë's office, he found his brother already gone and a note in his place.

A couple more days passed until the next strange thing happened. 

There was a show to be put on by a group of Fëanáro's former apprentices that evening, within the dining hall after all had eaten. 

It was to be a light show. 

As the lights dimmed and it began, Princess Eärwen stepped up beside Arafinwë and said, in a low voice, "I hear you have been spending much time with my swan-maiden."

Glowing crystals, the kind used in Fëanorian lamps, were produced. They began to be juggled around the room. They reminded him of shooting stars.

Arafinwë glanced over at her, surprised. "Is there something the matter?"

Eärwen considered this question, as if it warranted more thought than a simple 'yes' or 'no.' "That would rather depend on your intentions toward someone under my protection."

Arafinwë could feel some creeping embarrassment at that statement. He forced himself to hold still. Not to fidget. "Intentions?"

Eärwen smiled, her gaze never leaving the show. Many beams of light, all red and yellow and blue in the form Finwë's heraldry, appeared. They began to dance about the room.

Then, they converged. Some kind of prism must have been in use, for they produced a beam of pure white light. 

That light put him in mind of Alpawen's hair. He'd never realized before, how lovely white was before meeting her and her swans. It was pure and clean. And more than that, in white sat the potential for all other colors.

As if to illustrate the point, another prism was added, and suddenly the room danced in a kaleidoscope of rainbows. 

Princess Eärwen began to speak again.

"Don't be fooled by what you first see," she warned him. "Do not grow too attached to the simple herder of swans."

Arafinwë frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

But the princess was already withdrawing. He watched her go. 

He saw her slide up to his father, Finwë. He saw her lean in to whisper something. Finwë looked directly at Arafinwë. 

Arafinwë knit his brows in question. 

Finwë only smiled and gestured that all was well. The gentle touch of Finwë's mind brushed against Arafinwë's, telling him to go back to enjoying the performance.

Arafinwë was unconvinced, but turned back to watching the dancing lights.

The day following, Arafinwë went down to the King's pastures to see Alpawen, as had become his habit.

Only, when he got there, he found Alpawen and her swans were not alone. Fëanáro was there, speaking to her.

Arafinwë slowed his step and approached more cautiously. He tried to remain inconspicuous, not wanting to draw Fëanáro's attention. Though, he told himself, if Fëanáro is doing anything to harass Alpawen, if he's even making her uncomfortable, then I shall certainly have to intervene.

Fëanáro was speaking in low, harsh tones, and Alpawen was leaning away from him, giving him a most unimpressed look.

And her hair was down. Odd. Fëanáro must have caught her while she was tending to it.

As he drew closer, Arafinwë caught the words, "If your mother knew...!" from Fëanáro, and "Falasatta!" from Alpawen.

"Hello! Brother?" Arafinwë called out.

Enough was enough, even if, somehow, Fëanáro knew Alpawen's mother. (But then, Fëanáro and Nerdanel were avid travelers. They often spent half the year or more off exploring the world. Why shouldn't he know Alpawen and her family?)

Both started and leapt back from one another.

"Are you here to observe the swans, brother?" Arafinwë asked, all innocent curiosity.

Through gritted teeth, Fëanáro responded, "I would appreciate it, Indision, if you would refrain from calling me that."

"A swan??" Arafinwë asked, feigning cluelessness.

Beside Fëanáro, Alpawen seemed to be fighting a smile.

Fëanáro sneered. Arafinwë smiled contritely. "Of course, I apologize, half-brother."

Fëanáro snorted. "What brings you here, Arafinwë?"

"Just swan watching."

Fëanáro's eyes darted between him and Alpawen. "Somehow, I find that difficult to believe."

Arafinwë made a careless gesture. "Swans are pretty."

Fëanáro watched him closely for a moment, during which Arafinwë maintained a vapid expression.

"I sometimes wonder if there's anything going on in your pretty golden head." Fëanáro finally sighed, reaching out as if to give a tug on one of Arafinwë's locks.

Then, the strangest thing happened.

A breeze picked up, rustling feathers and caressing branches of the scattered trees throughout the pastures.

Now, today Fëanáro was dressed in his usual court attire. Rich fabrics, tasteful jewels, and, to quite literally top it off, a circlet. Today's circlet was finely wrought and delicate, adorned with chains of gold and ruby beads. This was rather unfortunate, for in the breeze, which quickly escalated to a gust, the tree under which they all stood swung a branch downward, which then caught on the chains of this circlet. The ornament was then snatched away and flung into the sky, leaving Fëanáro's hair horribly mussed.

At first, Fëanáro visibly seemed to be holding in explicatives. Then, he apparently remebered that there were no small children nearby, and let loose a few swears.

Arafinwë looked appropriately scandalized. Fëanáro took off after his circlet. It had landed, improbably, around the neck of a peacock some three stone's throws away.

Arafinwë relaxed as soon as he was gone. Alpawen caught this.

"Are you well, Prince Ingoldo?"

"Oh, yes, I apologize on behalf of myself and my brother. I interrupted, but he seemed to be trying to make you uncomfortable."

Alpawen scoffed. "He was trying to intimidate me. He believes the force of his personality will conquer every time."

Arafinwë smiled faintly. "He does, doesn't he?"

She sniffed. "One can tell he was raised an only child."

That, Arafinwë could not but laugh at. "Right you are, my lady. Did you know him before coming here? I heard he said something about your mother...?"

"Oh, yes. He knows my family. We all work in or around the Alqualondë palace." She rolled her eyes. "He visits every five years or so and believes that a mother is one of the highest authorities one can answer to."

"He is... not wrong?"

Alpawen laughed, just a little, and Arafinwë felt inordinately pleased with himself. "I suppose so, but this visit to Tirion is not something she could ever dissuade me from."

Smiling, Arafinwë asked, "She did not want you coming here?"

"Indeed, she was opposed from the start, but I had convinced her to come around by the time we left." Alpawen grinned here, almost cheekily.

"Well, you've certainly proven yourself capable of handing some of the worst Tirion has to offer. It seems to me that your mother has nothing to worry about." Arafinwë tilted his head, thoughtful. He looked up at the tree. "How did you manage to get the tree to throw his circlet? Or was it the wind you were manipulating?"

"I know one of the Súruli." She looked up, still smiling.

Above, the wind swirled and giggled in the branches, then came down to play with Alpawen's hair.

"He is called Wingo," she continued. "He loves to play in the waves by the sea, but he saw the princess leave Alpalond and decided to follow her."

"How wonderful," Arafinwë marveled, watching the the wind maia go back up to shake tree branches. He left behind him the ainurin scent of ozone and an additional smell of salt and sea.

Alpawen too watched the maia go, wearing a fond smile all the while. "We do not deserve his loyalty."

"Whyever not?"

She looked back to Arafinwë, surprised. "He is a maia of Manwë Súlimo. We are but Lindar of the sea."

"Perhaps he likes your songs," Arafinwë suggested.

"Perhaps," Alpawen acknowledged.

Arafinwë spent the rest of the morning in Alpawen's company.

He noticed she smiled much that morning, and always she smiled at him. It made him feel like Laurelin's light was inside his chest and anxious to burst free.

He held it in, though. These days were precious, and he would not rush things with Alpawen.

Little Kanafinwë was playing in the day nursery.

He had a toy horse. The poor thing was decapitated, but this did not stop the tot from playing with the head while the body lay discarded.

Kanafinwë looked up at Arafinwë as he entered the room and beamed a beatific smile. He proffered the horse head triumphantly and shouted, "Ib ur ama nu!"

Nerdanel came in behind Arafinwë. "Well?"

"No, I didn't give him that one." Arafinwë shook his head.

He'd come to look at his nephew's new favorite toy, which had appeared anonymously in the nursery sometime recently.

Kanafinwë's adoration for horses in general was well-known throughout Tirion. This was due to Finwë's telling pretty much everyone he could find. There was no restraining the king from sharing his very active pride in his growing family.

The horse was of fine craftsmanship, carved of wood, and with many fine details. The body stood on a platform with wheels. It would be a shame not to acknowledge the maker and/or gift giver of such a pretty thing. Additionally, knowing who made it would point them to who might be best able to repair it.

The problem? Anyone could have given Kanafinwë the horse.

Nerdanel sighed. Kanafinwë shrieked in delight on seeing his mother and hauled himself to his feet. He took tottering steps until he crashed into her legs. "Ama!!"

Nerdanel reached down and picked him up.

The palace nurse rose from her position in the corner, where she'd been mending a torn pair of stockings. She performed a curtsey, then sat back down to her work. With her foot, she continuously rocked a cradle that lay at her side.

Kanafinwë, oblivious, began to make the decapitated horse head bounce around Nerdanel's shoulders. He kept chanting, "Ib ur ama nu! Ib ur ama nu!"

"What, pitya?" Nerdanel asked. "What if your Ammë knew?"

Kanafinwë paused, squinted his eyes very tight and thought. The final pronouncement was, "Baeka tu!"

The horse head went back to jumping.

"... break a two? Oh, break in two, I suppose," Nerdanel noted absently. "Have you been listening to Atto and Nelyo read poetry, pitya?"

Kanafinwë did not dignify this unworthy question with an answer.

Nerdanel looked back over at Arafinwë. "Thank you for coming here to look and see."

"I haven't been of much help. We're back where we started."

"That's not quite true. We know it wasn't you."

"That's true." Arafinwë smiled ruefully. "If I learn where he got the toy horse from, I will let you know, sister."

Kanafinwë emitted a loud shriek that all the adults in the room flinched at.

A glance at the doorway revealed the reason for Kanafinwë's sudden outburst. Finwë had arrived, Nelyafinwë at his side.

Arafinwë smiled and inclined his head to each.

Finwë smiled in his turn, and Nelyafinwë returned the nod, only to turn his attention to his little brother. Kanafinwë cooed at Nelyo, all while profering his broken horse head.

Finwë went to kiss his second grandson. This accomplished, he asked the nurse after Findekáno. The nurse admitted that Nolofinwë's son was yet napping in the cradle at her side. The baby, evidently, had the impressive ability to sleep through even the worst of Kanafinwë's noise making.

It was at this point that Fëanáro stormed into the nursery, hair askew, princely circlet in hand.

... not at all unlike how he'd appeared yesterday after his run in with Alpawen's maiarin friend.

"Atar," Fëanáro demanded, "you must do something about Princess Eärwen's swanherd. This is getting out of hand."

"What is, my son?" Finwë asked with some humor.

"This is no laughing matter, Atar," Fëanáro declared. "She is friends with one of the Súruli, and twice now her friend has assaulted me in your own meadows and pastures!"

So, Fëanáro had gone back, had he? A part of Arafinwë that he was ashamed of thought that his eldest brother had probably deserved what he'd gotten.

Finwë's humor melted to concern. "Assaulted you?"

"Indeed." Fëanáro raised a brow.

"Are you well?" Finwë pressed, stepping forward.

"Yes, Atar, I'm fine. The mischievous sprite only pulled my hair and stole my circlet."

Finwë reached out and began to fix Fëanáro's hair. Fëanáro suffered this.

No one in the room took any note of Finwë's fussing, especially not Kanafinwë, who had turned his attention to Nelyafinwë and was trying to coax the horse head into his elder brother's mouth. Both Nerdanel and Nelyafinwë were attempting to gently discourage this.

And Arafinwë stayed still and silent and watched.

"I'll speak with Eärwen about her attendant," Finwë assured Fëanáro.

"I think perhaps you may be interested in summoning the swan shepherdess herself."

"For what purpose? To embarass her and all the Falmarin delegation along with her? I think not."

"Do not summon her to embarass her, then," Fëanáro huffed. "Though she has embarassed and irritated me well enough. Regardless, I believe you will find her... interesting, and the conversation worthwhile."

"Do you?" Finwë sighed and considered. "Tomorrow morning, then, before the important business of the day can begin."

"I do not dispute the wisdom of my father and king," Fëanáro began carefully, "but perhaps we ought to summon her to us before she has time to run away from her audience with you."

Finwë laughed incredulously. "Why should she run? Surely we are not so terrible?"

"Atar, she called me a horse thief."

Arafinwë felt his brows shoot up. Was that what Fëanáro and Alpawen's murmured conversation been about? If so... well, it was a little confusing, to be sure. He adored Alpawen, but clearly she wasn't as well aquainted with Fëanáro's character as Arafinwë was.

Stealing? Such was beneath Fëanáro's dignity. He'd only go to such drastic measures if he was truly desperate, and why should he be desperate? He enjoyed the privileges of a prince in a world full to the brim with plenty.

Surely there was some kind of misunderstanding at play here.

Horse theft in the Blessed Realm was never malicious. In fact, most were accidental. Still, the accusation was serious. A horse was a valuable animal, no matter what station in life you occupied. They aided transportation, both of goods and of people. They were used in certain popular styles of the Hunt. They worked hard on farms, aiding in faster tilling than if a farmer used, say, an ox. Many were treasured companions.

Finwë frowned. "She said that?"

"She strongly insinuated it to me. Twice."

Kanafinwë chose this moment to begin whining (loudly, of course, always loud) and squirming in his mother's arms.

Finwë glanced their direction.

"I think, perhaps, my husband's approach is worth listening to, your majesty," Nerdanel said, reluctantly setting Kanafinwë down on the ground.

Kanafinwë's whining ceased and he began to set about inspecting the embroidery on the bottom of Nelyafinwë's robes.

"Very well, then. I shall have her summoned before me now." Finwë sighed and gave one last, longing look at his grandchildren, including Findekáno's rocking cradle.

Both he and Fëanáro then turned and left.

And though Arafinwë had not explicitly been invited, he followed behind them.

Alpawen was brought before Finwë less than an hour later, escorted by a pair of the King's servants.

As a courtesy, and to maintain good relations with the Teleri, the Telerin Ambassador to Tirion was informed. Arafinwë hoped the Ambassador would respond by sending someone to represent Alpawen in the coming proceedings. Perhaps the Ambassador would come himself.

To Arafinwë's surprise, though, of the Telerin delegation, only Princess Eärwen herself arrived to support the swan-maiden. No servants, no handmaids, no experts of law, no counselors of any kind, not even the Ambassador. Just the princess herself.

Arafinwë stood back with the few higher ranked courtiers Finwë had allowed into this session, including Nolofinwë, Lady Anairë, the court recorder, and an expert in Falmarin language and culture. Finwë was seated upon his throne, with Fëanáro at his side. (The Queen's seat sat empty, as Lady Indis had declined to attend, citing other duties.) ("Other duties" being a meeting with Tirion's sanitation officials. A conveniently important enough excuse to avoid getting involved in something Fëanáro was invested in.)

Alpawen entered with her head held high. She eyed Fëanáro -- right in front of his father! -- and delivered a look of both challenge and disdain.

Arafinwë felt his heart swell in his chest at her dauntlessness.

Valar, he loved her.

"Alpawen," Finwë began, "It has come to my attention that you have said untrue things regarding my son?"

At this point, Arafinwë noticed something odd.

Fëanáro looked surprised by his father's words. The smirk he'd been wearing since getting his way in the nursery fell from his face. He looked between Alpawen and Finwë, perplexed.

At Arafinwë's side, Nolofinwë and Anairë leaned closer together. They were likely confering mind-to-mind about their own observations.

"Perhaps I did, or perhaps I did not. My evidence thus far is circumstantial," Alpawen responded.

"Very well. Tell me your circumstantial evidence." Finwë sat back in his throne and gestured for her to begin.

And begin she did, her voice clear, her head still up, her diction intact. "Princess Eärwen was gifted a horse on her coming of age some time ago. This horse was of fine pedigree, which could be traced to Nahar, mount of Oromë. Indeed, this relationship was demonstrated in the golden color of his hooves, his white coat, and his ability to understand elven language without the usual addition of an ósanwë connection to provide the appropriate impressions."

Her boldness was admirable. But... a crease formed between Arafinwë's brows. Something was off. She did not speak like someone unused to addressing kings -- or like someone who'd recieved no training in how to publically address a royal court.

"This horse was named Falasatta," Alpawen declared. "Many admired him, including, on his last visit, Prince Fëanáro Therindion!"

Fëanáro sputtered. "He is a fine horse! I did not take him!"

Finwë held up a hand, silencing his eldest son. He gestured for Alpawen to continue.

"During this visit, Fëanáro admired the horse and his youngest son expressed an intense interest in him --"

"Oh, so now Kanafinwë is a horse thief!?" Fëanáro exploded.

"My son, please!" Finwë interrupted. "Let us at least hear her through to the end!"

Alpawen calmly raised a brow. "Is he not? He has one of my old nursery toys."

Fëanáro frowned. Arafinwë went still. That decapitated horse...?

"That, however, I do not hold against him. He is yet to see his first full tree-year. I allowed him to keep it back in Alpalondë, my gift to him." Alpawen tilted her head to the side. "Though when Falasatta went missing immediately after you and your family left, that was another matter. The trees and stones sang their witness of his having left with you, and so Princess Eärwen elected to follow once she had obtained her father and mother's permission to visit Tirion-upon-Túna."

Fëanáro appeared livid by this point.

Finwë turned to look at him. "You may speak now."

"Check my horses! I have none belonging to you!"

"You mean 'belonging to Princess Eärwen,'" Alpawen replied.

"I said exactly what I meant, Eärwen!"

Arafinwë darted a look to Princess Eärwen, who was watching with a small frown.

Alpawen merely raised both brows at Fëanáro. "Really, your highness..."

"Remove your head scarf, Eärwen," Fëanáro pressed, even going so far as to take a step down from the King's dais.

"Fëanáro!" Finwë admonished, looking scandalized. "There are Telerin subcultures where it is considered immodest to remove a head covering!"

"Your father and king is correct," Princess Eärwen finally spoke. "Please, have some consideration for my swan-maiden."

Fëanáro sneered at her. "I do not give heed to the words of an imposter. Eärwen I have known since our infancy and have met many times in our adulthood. You, I do not know."

Finwë looked between Fëanáro, Alpawen, and Eärwen, a crease forming between his brows. "Is there truth to my son's statements? I cannot discern for myself. The last time I saw Princess Eärwen face to face, before your arrival, was while she and Fëanáro could hardly yet walk. I put the both of you under oath to speak the truth here."

Arafinwë could not control the cold feeling that came creeping up on him then. What he was dreading, he did not know.

Princess Eärwen and Alpawen exchanged glances.

Alpawen looked back to Finwë, then spoke the fateful words. "I am Eärwen Alpawen Oluiel of Alpalondë, Princess of the Falmari."

Here, finally, Alpawen's gaze flickered to Arafinwë. An apology was written in her eyes.

He swallowed, unable to look away.

Her attention went back to his father. "I apologize for the deception. It was not made with any ill intent."

"If you are Eärwen, then who is this?" Finwë gestured to the apparent imposter.

"My kinswoman, Ivárë."

Not-Eärwen stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Neice to Olwë through his wife, your majesty. My cousin and I bear a great resemblance in face, and I currently wear a wig made of my cousin's own hair."

"Do not begrudge her, majesty, for she acted on my own orders for my own purposes," Eärwen Alpawen said.

"And what were these purposes, child?' Finwë asked, voice gentling.

Eärwen Alpawen held her head yet higher. "I was looking for Falasatta myself, in your pastures, where Prince Fëanáro is known to keep his own horses. I wished to avoid any... embarrassment. Particularly to yourself, majesty."

"And did you find Falasatta?" Finwë asked.

Eärwen Alpawen looked down, hiding her face for the first time. "No, your majesty."

"Then I shall have my people do a search." Finwë decreed. "And you will be returned to you proper place within your people's delegation. No more of this sneaking around with the animals."

Eärwen Alpawen's head shot up. "But my swans! Who shall care for them?"

"The princess does care for her own flock, your majesty," Ivárë Eärwen added. "Even at home in her father's palace."

"It's true," Fëanáro grudgingly corroborated.

Finwë sighed. "Very well. You may still care for your swans. But please, no more accusations and fighting."

"Fine." Eärwen Alpawen bowed her head.

"You are both dismissed to to the Telerin guest wing." Finwë made a gesture to both Eärwens.

They were escorted out.

Arafinwë was left feeling like he'd just lost something he hadn't even known he'd had.

In the aftermath, Arafinwë sat at the rear palace steps, near the stables, wondering if he ought to go out to the King's pastures again. Of course, such visits from here on out would no longer be to see Alpawen.

Alpawen, who never existed.

(Who never existed and yet still existed in the true character of Princess Eärwen.)

(He did not think she could have been false the whole time. Their connection had felt too real for that, and Arafinwë was usually quite good at reading people.)

(And, really, knowing what he did now -- a thousand little things fell into place. Her boldness in speaking to Fëanáro. How well traveled and well spoken and generally knowledge she was, indicating a diverse education.)

(Besides, he could understand her attempt at subtly so as not to embarass anyone, no matter that it had backfired.)

(Valar, he still loved her. She could probably push him off a cliff and he'd forgive her instantly.)

Still. He could make one last visit to the pastures, for Alpawen, if not to see her. He could join the search, perhaps. Maybe he could find Falasatta for her.

(Though she had spent weeks searching those pastures and had found nothing. What was there that he could possibly accomplish?)

His thoughts were broken the sudden collision of a small, sticky face with the center of his back. Two little arms attempted to wrap around his rib cage.

"Ah-ah!" Kanafinwë shrieked triumphantly.

Arafinwë straightened and turned to greet him.

Kanafinwë fell into his arms for a hug.

Seeing Fëanáro was not around, Arafinwë greeted him with, "Hello, troublemaker. What are you up to now?"

Kanafinwë tilted his head back and greeted Arafinwë with a beatific smile.

The nurse stood a few steps away, watching her charge dutifully. At Arafinwë's question, she replied, "His highness wished to see the horses, and is quite determined to walk himself there."

"I see," Arafinwë reflected.

"Ah-ah hosey?" Kanafinwë asked. "'O hosey?"

"Yes, I can go with you to see the horses."

Arafinwë set him down and stood, then offered his hand. Kanafinwë took it eagerly and set out once more.

They made slow but determined progress to the stables. Kanafinwë shrieked in delight and victory upon their successful arrival.

Of the few horses currently in the stables, only one or two poked their heads out to greet their jubilant visitor.

"Would you like to see them closer?" Arafinwë offered.

Kanafinwë immediately extended his arms and demanded, "Up!"

Arafinwë obliged. He then took him to see those horses he knew to be gentle and long-suffering, those unlikely to bite a princeling for being a little too enthusiastic. The nurse continued to follow at a little distance.

Kanafinwë, though, was dissatisfied with these choices. He kept on saying, "Ode hosey? Ode hosey??" in more and more insistant tones.

At last, Arafinwë looked to the nurse for translation.

She smiled slightly. "Lately there has been a horse visiting the stables with golden hooves. We've only ever found him outside, though."

Arafinwë's heart stuttered in his chest. To his nephew, he asked, "Could you show me where you usually find him?"

Kanafinwë was delighted by this idea, and so dove face first for the floor. Thankfully, Arafinwë caught him in time.

With Arafinwë's assistance on one side and the nurse's on the other, they made progress out the other side of the stables, to where the paddocks were set up.

A stablehand caught up to them then, grinning when he saw Kanafinwë. "Back to see Gwániel and her friend, little prince?"

"Is he here today, Cánratto?" The nurse asked.

Cánratto laughed. "We can hardly get him to leave. He just arrived a few minutes ago. Actually, your highness, I was wondering, with the new orders we've recieved about keeping an eye out for a white horse with golden hooves and who can understand the tongues of elves, if Gwániel's friend is who you're looking for? I was on my way to report him, but with you here, this is even better."

He gestured for them to follow, and they did. Cánratto took them to a paddock where a mare stood beside another horse, white coated and golden hooved.

"Could you tell me the history of these horses?" Arafinwë asked.

"Gwániel is a recent acquisition from Olwë to your father," Cánratto explained. "This fellow arrived not long after she did. I'd guess they were friends back home, and he missed her."

Arafinwë swallowed. "When... when was this? How long ago did Gwániel arrive?"

Cánratto thought for a second. "Just before Prince Fëanáro came home from his last trip to Alqualondë. We recieved several horses from Olwë at that time. We paid with a truly impressive number of nails, along with various metalworked tools and other... things. I don't know. I stopped listening at that point."

The nurse laughed. A moment later, Kanafinwë began to laugh too.

Arafinwë considered. "Thank you, Master Cánratto. Could you make sure that Gwániel's friend stays here until I return?" He released Kanafinwë's hand and looked between him and the nurse. "Apologies. There is something I must see to."

Arafinwë ran, leaving Kanafinwë behind with his nurse and an affectionate kiss atop his head.

His legs carried him to the guest wing of the palace devoted to their Telerin visitors. He barely greeted ceremonial guards as he darted past them. When he met servants in the hall, he performed wide evasive maneuvers so as not to disturb them.

And then he found himself at Princess Eärwen's door.

He smoothed his robe, then his hair, took a deep breath, and knocked calmly, like his heart wasn't beating a thousand times a second.

Ivárë answered. Her silver hair was gone, now replaced with what Arafinwë assumed was her natural hair color, a dark brown. Their resemblance was greatly lessened with the difference.

"Prince Arafinwë," Ivárë greeted. "How may we help you?"

"I need to speak with -- Eärwen."

"I suppose you would," Ivárë said quietly, examining him minutely. "Very well, step in. Wait in our sitting room, I shall let my Lady know."

"Thank you," Arafinwë murmured. He was lead to the aforementioned sitting room, and there he waited.

He waited what felt an eternity before Ivárë returned, her cousin in tow.

Alpawen halted in the doorway to stare at him.

No, not Alpawen. Call her by her proper name, you, he scolded himself. "Princess Eärwen." Arafinwë bowed.

"Arafinwë," she began. "I am so sorry, I did not mean to deceive you in this way, nor to tell you -- or, let you know, rather -- in the way I did. I would like us still to be friends. Can you forgive me?"

Arafinwë blinked. "I would like nothing more. Alpawen the swan-shepherdess was dear to me. Indeed, if her character is true in you, then..." he  trailed off, gathered his thoughts, decided now was not the time for declarations of undying love, and continued, "Well. As I said. I should like nothing more. But, your highness, I didn't come here to discuss your deception. It's Falasatta. We've found him!"

Immediately, her eyes brightened and she stepped forward. "Where is he?"

"In my father's paddocks. Come, I can take you to him."

"Please," she breathed.

As he went to move past her, to lead the way, she made an aborted gesture of reaching out for him.

Arafinwë looked to her questioningly.

"May I take your arm?" She asked.

"Of course."

She did so, and Arafinwë tried not to focus it.

They left Ivárë behind.

The trip down to the palace stables was longer than the trip Arafinwë had taken up to Eärwen's chambers, but that was to be expected. He wasn't exactly sprinting this time.

And Arafinwë was quite content with the slower pace, especially if it meant she kept holding his arm longer.

They'd left the warm hours of Laurelin behind and had entered into the soft hour of the Mingling by the time they stepped outside.

Kanafinwë and his nurse were gone by the time they reached Gwániel and Falasatta. The stablehand was still there, though, and greeted them with a bow.

Eärwen, the moment she saw the horses, squealed in delight. She let go of Arafinwë and ran to the fence, calling out to Falasatta.

The horse snorted and came to greet her.

Arafinwë watched the reunion with a full heart.

Eärwen cooed at Falasatta and tried to embrace him. Falasatta commenced trying to shake her down for any treats she might have hidden on her person.

Eärwen laughed and scolded him lightly, then turned to ask Cánratto how Falasatta had been being treated here.

When she was done, she whirled about and grabbed Arafinwë by the hands and spun him around. She then leaned in to give him a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Thank you! Thank you!"

Stunned, Arafinwë did nothing.

Eärwen pulled back quickly. "Oh! I apologize. Was that okay?"

"Yes. Yes! It was more than okay!" He grinned at her and she grinned back, both feeling rather bashful.

"I... suppose I owe your brother an apology." Eärwen was the first to break the silence.

"You do," Arafinwë replied simply. "Thankfully, he's known for being large hearted and forgiving."

Eärwen laughed, and it was just like she was Alpawen again. "Do we know the same prince?"

"I think we both know many. Surely the lists must overlap."

She laughed again, then awarded him with a smile full of such warmth that Arafinwë thought his heart might melt out of his chest. "I'll write a note to him when I get back to my rooms and then speak to him in person tomorrow."

"That sounds like a good plan."

"In the meantime," the smile melted and her face became more serious. "Ingoldo, I'd like for us to keep spending time together."

Something loosened in his chest, and he nodded. "Of course. I would like that as well. And... even after you go home..." he laughed awkwardly. "I just don't want it to ever stop. Our time spent together with the swans were the highlights of my days."

"And mine," she answered.

Arafinwë screwed up his courage. "Earlier, I said that I would like nothing more than for us to remain friends. That wasn't the whole truth. I would like us to stay friends-- but I also wouldn't mind in the least if we became something more."

"Neither would I." Her lips quirked another into a smile. She took a step closer and leaned in for another kiss.

This time he met her halfway.

When they pulled apart, Eärwen suggested, "Let us go riding out to see my swans, and we will sit among them and enjoy each other's company, like we used to."

What could Arafinwë do but accept?

He loved this woman. If he could, he'd sped the rest of eternity by her side. Everything that had happened up to this point? Water under the bridge.

This was only a beginning of the rest of that happy eternity.