should probably think of a title

Olórin smiled gently. His eyes crinkled into that disarming sparkle, a calming focus point designed to put the viewer at ease. He extended a hand, palm up, towards the startled face of the mariner.

When he spoke, his voice was soft, and yet every elf crowded onto the small landing could hear as if the maia had shouted from the balcony of the palace. 

“Hail and well met, Tuor son of Huor, called Ulmondil. Though you are of the Second Children, we welcome you to the Blessed Land.” Olórin leaned closer and spoke to Tuor alone; Findis could just make out his voice above the lapping waves. “Do not yet despair, my lord. The Valar will hear your case.”

As if in a trance, Tuor (did he say the Second Children?!) took the offered hand. A current seemed to pass between the pair, a silent conversation in the space of a single step as Tuor was lifted off the gunwale onto the dock of Tirion. As he took his first step onto the alien shore, a gust of wind traveling down from the distant peaks blew back his hood, revealing his strange features to the crowd.

A large gasp, followed by excited chatter. Findis tuned them out. Her mind was already whirring with the next steps she needed to take to restore order and whisk Itarillë and the Secondborn (a Secondborn!) out of the crowd and back towards the safety of the palace. She was jolted out of these thoughts by a sobbing Itarillë, who had stumbled and thrown herself into Tuor’s arms. Were it not for the steading hand Olórin had placed on his back, the poor man would have been bowled over by the force of her leap. 

Canmë, bless her, was already moving. Raising her hands to her mouth, she let out a loud Hoi! Findis was gratified to see the crowd pause their murmuring, and to see her own guards snap to attention. With several slight hand signals, she indicated that they should take up positions near the pair, who were still wrapped tightly in each other’s arms. Between her guards and Olórin, who was still providing a calming presence at their backs, at least they would have some space to gather themselves. 

Findis raised her chin, and turned to address the crowd. “The Valar have approved of the arrival of an Exile and a Secondborn to our shores. “As High Queen of the Noldor–” she turned her gaze to Olwë and Ingwë “-- I claim responsibility for Itarillë, daughter of Turukáno, and Tuor Secondborn. I extend to them the hospitality of Tirion.”

The two kings gave slight nods, and Findis relaxed just a fraction. She had no doubt that they would come prying later, but she had staved off the inevitable debates for the moment. Olwë turned to the crowd. “You heard the Queen. My people have no quarrel here today.” Findis sighed. That had been rather too much emphasis placed on the word today. An issue to be dealt with later.

Ingwë said nothing, but gave her a shallow nod as he turned his company back toward Valimar. Between the three sets of royal guards, the harbor quickly cleared. Amárië appeared from the edge of the crowd, supported by Eärwen on one side and Arafinwë on the other. Arafinwë peeled off from the two women and approached Findis, laying a steadying hand on her shoulder. Findis curled her arm around his back and leaned into him, resting his head along her shoulder. She had seen the brief, wild hope in his eyes at the sight of long golden hair fluttering in the sea breeze. Many of the observers today would be returning home with that renewed bitter loss. She pressed a kiss into his golden locs.

------

An awkward throat clearing jolted Findis’ attention back to the present. Before her stood Itarillë and Tuor. Tuor’s eyes were downcast, hands folded in front of him, the perfect picture of unassuming subservience. Itarillë, on the other hand, stood tall and met Findis’ eyes. Her face, though tearstained, was set in a mask of stubborn conviction. With a pang, Findis recalled  Elenwë’s face the last time they had met. It was the face of someone who would not be swayed from their course, although where Elenwë’s had shone with excitement to cross to Endórë, Itarillë’s face spoke of the grief and tempering they had found there. It was the look of a hardened princess, a leader. A queen, Findis realized. 

Arafinwë distangled himself from Findis’ arm and stepped back to her right, allowing Findis to address the pair in front of her. Once he noticed her eyes focus on him, Tuor sank into a low, shaky bow. 

“You have my endless gratitude, Your Majesty. You shall have full command of me and my services while I am in your care. It is an honor and a comfort to meet my wife’s sundered kin on these strange shores”

Findis blinked. Married? It explained their reactions towards each other, but a marriage bond between First and Second born? Findis the Scholar was desperate to gather more data. Findis the Queen, thankfully, spoke instead. “Thank you, lord, but there is no need for such formality. As husband to my kinswoman, you are most welcome in my house.”

Tuor raised himself from his bow, Itarillë’s grip on his arm steadying his ascent. He smiled at her, and Findis noticed the pleasant laugh lines of his face. Unlike her husband, Itarillë’s face remained stony. 

The two women regarded each other in a brief bout of awkward silence. If Findis was correct in her hunch about Beleriand politics, then both nis held the position of High Queen of the Noldor. Typically, visiting royalty were supposed to acknowledge local royalty first. Findis could not be the one to make the first move.

At last, Itarillë inclined her head stiffly. “Thank you, Your Majesty, for your hospitality, but I hope we won’t have to impose upon you long. We must meet with the Valar immediately. And,” she added, “I go by Idril now, please.”

Olórin spoke up from where he was standing with Eärwen and Amárië. “The Valar know of your desire to speak with them, my lady, and will call upon you soon. For now, they wish you to rest after your long journey.”

Itarillë – Idril now-- looked thunderous. Findis could empathize; “soon” to the Valar could mean months to years of waiting. Tuor gently took Idril’s hand, and gave her a look of such love and understanding that Findis felt she ought to turn away. He murmured something in a language Findis didn’t understand, and Idril melted, squeezing his hand in return. 

A throat cleared at her shoulder. Findis looked down to see that Canmë had rematerialized next to her. “Your Majesty–” her voice carried across their small group, drawing all eyes to her “--I have procured transportation back to the palace. I could not acquire the proper carriage on such short notice, but,” she gestured to a small wagon being driven by two of the royal guards on horseback, “I hope this will suffice. I’ve been assured that it has not been used to transport fish. Recently.”

Edits I've made on this post in the meantime: I added golden ribbons, gave Fingon a smile for the sake of wholesomeness and gave him clothes for once

+ I include a little apologetic version of Mae