chapter 1: Tinuial the Fair

It was night. The last remains of daylight had dissolved into the darkness, and the frosted heavens were alive with a glittering mist of stars. The night formed a shadowy frame about the figure of a slender maiden. She was swathed in a thick cloak of grey, and upon her brow was a fine circlet of silver encrusted with tiny white gems which caught and mirrored the cold starlight. Unearthly she looked, her pale hair forming a ghostly mist about her face, and falling like a glistening torrent upon her shoulders. She was beautiful, even by the measure of the Elves. Her face was white and delicate as carven ivory, and gleamed with a soft, ethereal radiance. Her darkling eyes echoed the soft shadows of twilight. Yet the everlasting youth of the Eldar was not hers, for she was mortal. Tinuial the Elves called her, for her true name was a secret to which none knew the answer. As a child she had been found wondering the twilit forests by hunters of Nargothrond. The Elves had wondered to behold her, for though the child had been sorely wounded and was near death, her grace and beauty was that of the last bloom of Telperion. Whence she came none could tell, though all who looked upon her perceived that she fled from some deadly peril. She had been brought before King Orodreth of Nargothrond, and taking pity on the child, he saw that she was fostered within his realm. And so she was taken under the care of one Durthol, the very hunter who had first discovered Tinuial and named her. He took the place of her father and came to love her as a daughter of his own. Tinuial became more beautiful with each passing day, even as the waxing moon, and it was both a joy and a great sorrow for the Elves to behold such swift loveliness. The night sky she loved above all things, and to her the stars and moon were more fair than any jewel. Her heart longed to fly as an eagle into the mystical heavens above. Ever it grieved Tinuial that her feet were bound to the earth; and yet those who knew her would jest that her mind was ever amid the clouds. She stood now in the secluded woodland region half a league distant of her home, gazing into the shivering firmament past the slender branches of the trees. Of a sudden, Tinuial was disturbed by a sharp cry near at hand, and she gasped softly as her thoughts plummeted back to the hard earth on which she stood.
‘Tinuial!’
She turned, and beheld the noisy approach of an Elven-youth bearing a lantern. The piercing light stung her eyes, and she blinked as he stood before her. He wore a long cloak of soft woodland hues, which contrasted sharply with his tousled black hair. It was Thaliondil son of Durthol.
‘Tinuial! Where have you been all this day?’ He demanded breathlessly, and with much annoyance. Tinuial was silent. Thaliondil’s countenance was stern as he reproached her, ‘Since nightfall I have searched these woods, fearing that some evil had befallen you!’
Tinuial bowed her head. She knew that the woods were no safe place to wander alone once day had departed.
‘Forgive me, my brother.’ (for so she called him). She looked into his bright grey eyes, ‘I meant no harm. This night is so fair.’
‘We must hasten!’ He took her arm with a gentleness that belied his severe manner, and steered her firmly towards the lights of home.

Tinuial could not sleep. Her chamber was silent, and no sound or movement disturbed the brooding peace of the night. each time she drifted into slumber her mind was troubled by curious dreams. And yet when she opened her eyes and beheld only the leaden darkness she recalled nothing. At length she fell into a deep, sombre sleep of forgetfulness.