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Our May challenge will be a Matryoshka built around a scavenger hunt. If you'd like to hand out prompts (and receive comments on your work for doing so!), you can sign up to do so.
It pokes at Níniel’s mind like a splinter she can’t get out: Who is she? Where did she come from? Who are her family? She shares her thoughts with Finduilas, as they are sitting comfortably curled up together, her head on Finduilas’s shoulder.
Finduilas says carefully, “I know my kin, but many of them are dead. The rest are far away in the Falas or the Havens of Sirion, and it would not be safe to journey there to find them. Would you wish to know the truth, even if it brought you sorrow?”
“Yes,” Níniel says without hesitation. “If they are dead, I can perform mourning rites for them and honor their death-day each year. I can grieve that they are dead, and rejoice that I am alive.”
“I too rejoice that you are alive,” Finduilas says gently, and turns her head to kiss Níniel’s hair. They have both escaped danger and pain and death to find a refuge in Brethil. To find each other, and that is not a small joy.