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I'm Fingon in the .
As Only A Daughter CanHavens of Sirion, Year 515 of the Years of the SunAs Only A Daughter Can by Burning-Nightingale
The longest book starts with the first word, and that is always the hardest to write; or so my mother told me. Lord Círdan suggested I commit my memories of my father to paper, so that they might outlive those who remember him. I cannot now bring myself to recount the terrible events that plagued us for so much of my life, so I may add them at a later time, I think. But for now, I shall commit to this parchment my favourite memory of my father; his smile.
It was a frequent occurrence in my childhood, or for the first years at least. He and I would play in the gardens, and he would take me places with him, a curious child who could not see enough of the world. He and my mother would often tell me stories; mother's favourites were the ancient legends of the past, from back before the elves had crossed the sea, and father's favourites were tales of the things that lay beyond my small childhood experience, in the far reaches of