Chapter 1 – Prologue
She stared up at the night sky, a brisk cool breeze brushing against her cheek. The sky was alight with stars over the desert sky, twinkling in a dance of their own. The woman pulled the cloak tighter around her shoulders. No clouds meant there was no heat trapped, and the temperature dropped rapidly around her—she took little notice. Her mind wandered to places far away, places where ragged cliffs meet a raging sea. Where white gulls flew, and a song wafted upon the air. It was a song that haunted her dreams. Even now, awake and alert, she heard the sea song floating around her, calling her. She closed her eyes, reaching her hand up to the owl on her shoulder, stroking its head as it hooted in contentment.
'Lady of Sorrows, tune my lyre
To sing of unrelenting fire
In Fëanáro's flaming eyes
Lifted against the holy skies
Of Valinor in wrath and pride;
O thou who Námo's halls beside
Weeps for the bitterest sorrow
Of Arda marred by mighty foe,
O sister of Námo, grim lord
And Doomsman, in whose halls are stored
Great storied webs woven with tales
Of Time's march over winding trails
Wherein my tale may yet be found,
O free my tongue from mortal bounds
And let me sing of fire, of wrath
And darkness, and of ruinous path
Blazed by the Noldor over sea
To Endor, where the shadows be.
O Mercy, sister of grim Fate,
Kindle bright Hope in face of hate
And evil foes, and Valar's Doom
Yet shadowing in deepest gloom
Each step of mine and of my kin:
Here let my sorrowing song begin.
In Valinor beyond the sea
Stood Tirion, noble city
In white and gold bright glimmering
Where Finwë, of the Noldor king
Held court in stateliest array
Over his people, proud and fey.
Great halls there were of marble hewn
By masons skilled, with flowers strewn
And hung with richest tapestry
Within those courts of rare beauty,
Where laughing voice, and flowing song
Rose from the splendidly clad throng
Of high-born Noldor lords within
The gates of Finwë and his kin.
Yet now the halls lay cold and still -
No minstrel's song or gentle trill
Of silver flutes soft echoing
Was heard within. Finwë the King
Had called high council on this day,
For on his people shadows lay
Of strife, unrest, and whispered words
Of treachery, of smithing swords,
Doubt of the Valar's guiding hands,
Desires to conquer foreign lands.
Concerning lies secretly sown
Now to ruinous stature grown,
All Tirion's lords were in debate
Within the lofty hall of state
Whose doors of fine wood were inlaid
With carven panels, finely made
In likeness of the lofty height -
Taniquetil, mount clothed in white,
Seat of Manwë, of Valinor
The chiefest guardian evermore,
And Varda Elentári fair,
His queen, lovely beyond compare,
Who kindled starlight's flaming spark
Above Endor's forsaken dark.
Fast closed those wondrous doors now lay
Barring the chamber of parlay
And facing toward the marble halls -
Silent no more, for from the walls
Echoing, swift footsteps neared
As princely figure now appeared
Of Nolofinwë, second son
Born to the King of Tirion.
Fair was his face, yet firm his gaze,
Stalwart, yet gentle in his ways,
Blue was his raiment, as the sea
Surging beneath the Pélori,
Broidered with silver, shining bright
Within the yet-untainted light
Fallen from the Trees on hallowed hill.
Toward the chamber of council
He bent his steps, until before
The marvelously carven door
He paused and stood in moment's rest
In reverence toward the mountain blest
Carven thereon; then with grim face
Knocked. Entering, an honored place
Was made for him beside the king
And Finwë, with gaze wondering
Addressed his son: "What brings thee here,
My son? Some new unrest, I fear
Hath reared its head in Tirion."
"My king, truth speakest thou, for gone
Is peace from our fair land. Yet naught
Of new unrest news have I brought
But grief of old I bring today:
Father, our brother groweth fey
And proud; 'Tis Curufinwë, named
Spirit of Fire, who hast claimed
The people's ear. Wilt thou restrain
The pride of one who now would fain
Speak in the square, with voice ringing
Unto our people, as a king?
"Thou it was, who led us through
Endórë, and to life anew
In Aman's radiance, following
The Valar's gentle summoning
Of Elvenkind to Valinor.
If thou lovest this blessed shore
Repenting not thy earliest choice -
Thou hast two sons to heed thy voice;
Two sons of three to thee hold fast."
While he still spoke, the door was cast
Roughly aside; striding within
In full array of armour then
Came Curufinwë Finwion,
Called Fëanáro, eldest son
Of Finwë, now with high helm crowned
And mighty sword beside him bound.
"And so it is, " the High Prince growled,
"E'en as I guessed. Wisdom is fouled
By my half-brother's ramblings.
He fain in this and other things
Would be before me with my sire."
Now turning on his brother, fire
Flashed fell in Curufinwë's face.
"Begone! And take thy rightful place!"
Thus saying, Fëanáro drew
His sword upon his brother true,
Who bowed before the King and went
From there; no word or glance he sent
Toward his elder brother. Yet
In flaming wrath the High Prince set
To follow him. With sword still drawn,
Through peaceful halls he hastened on,
And stayed his brother at the gate,
Setting sword at his breast. With hate
He said, "Behold, half-brother, this
My sword exceeding sharper is
Than thy poor tongue. Try but once more
To steal, as thou hast done before,
My place and my own father's love,
And maybe its point shall remove
From Tirion the one who seeks
To rule those from whom thraldom reeks."
With stricken gaze the gathered throng
In Mindon's square whispered among
Themselves as Nolofinwë made
No answer to the fierce tirade
But passed away through wondering crowd,
While Fëanáro, tall and proud,
Still gazed on him with baleful eye
Heedless of all those passing by.'
A rustling sounded behind her. Instantly the song vanished, on alert, her hand went to the hilt of the sword strapped to her hip.
"Easy, Elarinya, tis only I." The voice spoke behind her, a chuckle hidden underneath.
Elarinya cut a glance at the soldier who stood beside her now. "You should know better than the sneak up on me, Veryan."
The older elf just shrugged, "Your father sent me."
"Of course." She turned and made her decent back to the camp, her steps light enough to leave no print, such was the way of the elves. She did not check to see if the guard followed, she knew him well enough to know he would.
Stopping briefly outside the tent, she took a breath, preparing herself to speak with her father. Pulling the flap back, Elarinya ducked and walked in. Her father stooped over the map table, dark braided hair, falling from its tie onto the desk. His hands fisted, and multiple markers knocked over. Sending a questioning glance at Veryan, she received no inclination from him.
"My Lord Morwë, your daughter is here."
He looked up, dark circles under his eyes, his face hollow and his cheekbones prominent from lack of sleep and proper nutrition. He waved her over.
"The orcs have camped here." He pointed to a location to their north, "And here, to the east."
The woman looked over his shoulder as he spoke. They sat directly in the middle of the two camps and the only thing protecting their home from the creatures. She studied the map, no perfect option presenting itself to her.
"Do we know the numbers of each camp?" Elarinya asked.
"Aye. They are both at least 400 strong."
"We have faced worse. Our army is larger. But do we split and hit each together, or draw them out to attack at once?"
"I fear, if we attack one, the others will come, they could trap us between them. Though the camps are separate, they are close enough still to hear a battle." He stated, rubbing a hand across his weary face, sighing.
She studied her father and the map a long time before responding. "We take 400 of our soldiers to march on the northern camp. Another 400 will lay in wait, hiding in the dunes for the orcs that will march on us from the east. Let them think they have us trapped. At the last minute, they ride upon them."
"And our other soldiers? That leaves a few hundred not in battle, we need there added numbers." He rebuked,
Elarinya smiled, "They will stay her at our base. We need soldiers here in case the eastern orc camp thinks to attack Aelion."
Morwë clapped her hard on the shoulder, laughing, "I knew there was a reason I brought you daughter."
"If you would but take rest, you would have decided upon the same plan."
"There is no rest during war."
She knew he was correct, they all were bone weary. The number of days in darkness had been increasing of late. Orcs had been increasing in number, their forces coming closer to their capitol, attacking their outlying villages.
"You will stay and lead those that remain here at camp."
She nodded, a slight frown upon her features. They needed their best fighters out on the attack, Elarinya knew she was one of them. Closing her mouth firmly, she refrained from retorting. The last thing she wanted was to be sent home for disobedience. Her father held little tolerance for defying orders, though he was a great and strong leader of their people.
"We shall ride out tonight, catch them unawares at dawn." He stated, turning from the desk to drink from his wine goblet.
"Father, is that wise?" She could not help but ask, startled he would take such a risk, "The orcs will undoubtedly have scouts."
Eyes of ice shot her way, ceasing all conversation. Morwë had not been asking for her advice or input, his choice was made.
"Aye father, I shall gather and inform my troops." Elarinya stated, moving to leave the tent, knowing she was dismissed.
"I shall leave some of mine and Veryan's men to join your ranks."
"Many thanks." With a slight nod of her head, the woman slipped out, leaving her father and his right hand to make their plans.
Standing outside her friend's tent, Elarinya looked back to the stars, letting the brisk wind, slide across her cheek. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, letting her mind wander for a moment. For a moment, she let herself forget the times they were in, instead she traveled back to when they were at peace, not long after others traveled after Oromë to the strange and fabled land of Valinor. Her played images of their fire gatherings as they danced to lively music around the grand bonfires, drinking wine to their hearts content on the banks of the lake at their city, Aelion…
"Mellon nín," A voice broke her revere, causing her to jump. "What brings you here so late?"
"Meldiriel," She replied turning to look into her friend's grey eyes, a somber expression on her face. "Gather our warriors, Lord Morwë leaves to launch an attack on the orc camps, we are to assemble and stand as a last line of defense should the orcs march to home."
She watched as her friend's eyes grew wide in surprise, though she did not protest. Elarinya was glad to see she was not the only one who saw the folly in their plan. Truly she wanted to know Veryan's thoughts; one of their finest warriors, he was also one of the oldest and wisest among them. Awakening not long after her father and his brother, Nurwë. The other woman grabbed her cloak and did as her leader asked without question. She stood there a moment longer before striding to her tent to gather her other weapons and dress. Clinking, the chain mail slid down her torso over the dark green tunic and brown breeches. Grabbing the wide leather woven belt, she cinched it tightly about her waist with the metal clasp, embroidered in elvish runes. From it hung her sword sheath and those for her daggers. Next came the silver bracers made to match her belt buckle. Pulling on her fur lined cloak, it mink collar brushing her cheeks, Elarinya walked back into the chilled night air, most of the shield maidens gathered and ready for whatever end was to come. Elladyr flew through the air, landing lightly on her shoulder, giving a small hoot of acknowledgement.
**A/N**
Version of the Noldolantë retrieved from /works/1105486/chapters/4076298
All rights belong to them
I told myself I would not start 2 stories at once again…well I lied. This idea popped into my head and I just had to roll with it.
Please read & review, I want to hear all your thoughts and ideas on where you think this will go and what you would like to see happen.
Other than my original characters, all the lovely people and places belong to Tolkien