All characters and places named are property of J.R.R. Tolkien. I own nothing but my own characters. I don't even own the elvish that they speak! Please Read and Review, your input and question will help make future chapters better.
All Narwende could think about was how lucky her older sister was. To go from a smithy's daughter to a princess and future Queen of the Noldor was something special. The wedding was grand. There were so many guests in attendance that Narwende thought she might get lost amongst the crowd. Of course, it didn't help that Narwende was smaller than everyone else. While many thought she was simply a child, it was known to the Noldor of Valmar near Aule's forges that she was simply little. Fully grown but two whole heads smaller than a normal elf.
Her father called her Milya, for she had arrived too soon and was quite frail and weak. Narwende was her mother-name. It meant daughter of fire. Narwende was the middle of Mahtan's three children. Nerdanel was the oldest and Narhuine was the youngest. Little Narwende was virtually overlooked within her family until he prince began to court her sister. Minyafinwe Feanaro took to the family as if it had been his own from birth. Once, however, when he had been left alone in the house by Nerdanel, Narwende took it upon herself to befriend the prince. She showed him the many things she had created, stating that her skill with making necklaces and other delicate things were unmatched. It seemed her diminutive stature was useful after all. Her small, skilled fingers could weave a golden chain better than her mother could, even though her father saw little usefulness in her. Feanaro seemed to be impressed with the tiny elf and offered to Nerdanel that Narwende should come to live with them in Tirion once they were wed. Nerdanel spoke to Mahtan about it. Her father, having no use for a child so small and without the physical strength he so admired, gladly permitted Narwende to go, relieved as he was to finally be rid of the girl.
So, after the wedding and wading through a sea of guests and well-wishers, Narwende made her way to where Nerdanel and Feanaro stood. The prince placed his right hand upon her shoulder whilst his left was draped around his new bride. It was a happy day, and there would be many more happy days to follow as Nerdanel gave her husband seven wonderful sons. Narwende adored her sister-sons but Kurufinwe Atarinke was her favorite. She taught him the art of jewels and settings when she was not sequestered with his father in his great workshop. If she had been as wise as her sister, Narwende would have been able to see the tint of jealousy in her sister's eyes whenever Feanaro would announce that he and Narwende had made something new and fantastic. Greatest of all their collaborations were the Palantiri. Eight stones, identical in size and appearance as shining spheres but with slight variations in color and hue ranging from deep green to vivid blue. They were imbued with a magic that made whoever that gazed into them able to see someone that gazed into another, no matter the distance between them. These were gifted to the Teleri on the Isle of Eressea so as to allow them to communicate with Valinor without having to sail thither. Feanaro alone, however, created the three Jewels which the Valar made Holy. These were, indeed, his finest achievement.
All we well until the fallen Vala, Melkor, was released from the Halls of Mandos. Thus unchained he began to spread lies within the House of Finwe. Some lies were petty and easily dismissed but other were grievous, such as Feanaro believeing thet Nolofinwe was plotting to supplant him to be the next king of the Noldor and that Narwende and not Nerdanel was the mother of Feanaro's young twins, Pityafinwe Ambarto and Telufinwe Ambarussa. Feanaro was furious. The quarrel between the brothers became so great that swords were drawn, thus the Valar had to intervene. For drawing a sword on his kinsman Feanaro was banished from the elven city of Tirion upon the hill of Tuna for twelve years of the Trees. Narwende hadn't gone to the hearing but found out later that her lord and brother had been banished and was distraught. He left the city ere Telperion waxed. Only a short time afterward news came to Tirion that Feanaro had constructed a home in the cliffs of Formenos and was requesting his family to join him. All of his sons gladly packed and went hither as did Narwende. Nerdanel had gotten comfortable in Tirion and refused to follow her husband. The king, Lord Finwe also went hither, much to the surprise of the Noldor. He placed the rule of Tirion into the hands of Nolofinwe, having decided to go live with his eldest and most favored son. For the next ten years of the Trees life went on normally at Formenos.
Word came to Feanaro that he was being summoned to the City of the Valar on the slopes of Taniquetil for the Spring celebration. Also it seemed that Nolofinwe was ready to sort things out; forgive and forget. With his sons out of Formenos wandering Valinor, only Finwe and Narwende were left whilst Feanaor went up to Taniquetil.
All was quiet. That should have been the first clue that something was amiss. Narwende was gathering up things in the forges when the darkness came. The soft, everlasting light of the Trees had gone out. In a panic Narwende screamed. "Stay where you are!" cried out the voice of King Finwe. So Narwende crouched down and his beneath a workbench. Then came the sound. It was dreadful. A horrible screeching pierced the air that echoed from Araman to Avathar. Alone in the dark all Narwende could do was listen as heavy footsteps and the sound of scritching claws drew closer and closer to Formenos. There was a pause, which was nearly deafening, then the sickening sound of iron piercing flesh and a yelp of surprise. Narwende's stomach turned. Then it was silent again. There was a clatter and a crunching from the treasury and then fast retreating footsteps and claws that followed hurried along behind them. It was silent again save the thrumming of Narwende's heart which beat fast as a humming bird's wings. Summoning her courage, the diminutive elf rummaged through the darkness until she found a lantern and lit it. She then sought out her Lord and King.
She found her king at the city gates. He was half sitting half leaning against a pillar of stone. In his lap was an iron box inlaid and overlaid with gold and silver. It was empty. Narwende drew closer. Taking a ragged breath, King Finwe opened his eyes and gazed at her. "Stole. Them." he rasped. "Melkor. Stole the Silmarils." He gasped again, having trouble breathing. Narwende was speechless. She stooped down to take the box from his lap. The King took hold of her wrist. A warm, viscous liquid was on his fingers which transferred to her arm. She could feel it on her skin, sticky warm. Shining her lantern in closer she now saw a large red stain beneath the empty box. The stain, which was blood that came from a single wound just below his ribs, was progressively getting larger, spreading across the front of the King's tunic. Gasping Narwende tried to stem the flow but Finwe pushed her hands away. "Nay, child." said her Lord and King. "This wound. Is mortal. I go now to Mandos' Halls. Finally to be with my beloved Serinde. Namarie." Then Finwe, Lord of Tirion and High King of the Noldor closed his eyes and with a heavy sigh was no more. His fea had fled it's hroa and he was gone.
Narwende pleaded with him to stay, saying "Atar, please! Do not go hence! Atar!" Indeed, since leaving Mahtan's house those of Finwe's house had treated her like blood kin and she had come to love Finwe much like a father. Weeping, Narwende ran from Formenos toward Taniquetil where Feanaor was. She could barely see as she ran, both from the blinding darkness and tears that stung her grey eyes. Taniquetil was a beacon in the darkness. Every elf had a lantern it seemed. The mountain glowed like an ember in the night. Running as fast as she could, Narwende made her way to the City center where elf and Vala alike had gathered. The elves milled around in confusion, murmuring in uncertainty. Above the crowd the small elf-maid could see the golden head of Arafinwe, youngest son of the king and his brothers nearby. Their faces were worried but still serene. Pushing through the throng to where they stood, her small frame finally collapsing at Feanaro's feet, the grief overwhelming her at last. Nolofinwe lifted her up and looked worriedly at his older brother.
Kneeling down to her Feanaro asked "Sister, what is the matter?" He stroked her face, trying to calm the hysterical elf-maid.
Through her tears Narwende spoke three words that silenced the whole city. "Vanwa ye Tarimma!". A fresh issue of tears and choking sobs escaped her. He turned her face to his.
"How, Narwende? How could this have happened?" His eyes bore deep into hers and she could feel everyone leaning in to hear what else she might say.
"The dark came" she began, trying hard to stem her tears. "Then... the sound, Oh! The sound was awful!" Swallowing more sobs she continued "Claws on the flagstones. And heavy footfall."
A soft, airy voice spoke. "Melkor and his fell servant, Ungoliant the she-spider." Manwe Sulimo himself had knelt beside the diminutive elf. "Go on, little one." he urged.
Narwende swallowed hard, the lump in her throat refusing to go down. Her eyes trained on Feanaro's she went on. "It was an awful sound. Fell and terrible. I heard your father, our king, cry out once in the darkness then there were the sounds of fleeing foot steps followed by a long silence." She sniffed back more tears. "I found him, Lord Feanaro. Your illustrious and noble father is... dead." Unable to hold them back any longer, she began to weep once again. The assembled elves, many of them Noldor, began to wail and keen, the King of the Noldor was dead. Feanaro took the tiny elf into his arms and he too wept. Leaning in she whispered into his ear that Melkor had stolen not only the life of his father but the three Silmarils. Feanaro went stiff. Releasing Narwende he stood up, his face grief stricken and furious.
His voice rang out over the keeing wails of the Noldor, strong and clear like a bell but grave and terrible. "A curse upon Melkor! He, who for ever after shall be called Morgoth. And curse thee Manwe Sulimo for summoning me hence, lest I could have defended my keep and my father's life had been spared!" The new King of the Noldor then fled into the darkness leaving everyone stunned. Gape-mouthed, Narwende rushed after him, her lantern swinging wildly in her hand as she raced.
"Feanaro!" she cried out into the dark. "Minyafinwe Feanaro, please! My Lord and King, wait for me!" He lamplight shone out before her in a golden ray. Soon the hunched shoulders of her brother-in-law appeared. He had stopped for her. She paused beside him and reached her hand up. Placing it on his shoulder was all she could do for there were no words. Silently his hand raised up and lay upon hers. He spoke no words either. After a moment he sighed and moved forward, moving at a walking pace so Narwende could follow.
"Narwende." spoke Feanaro softly as they walked, "When we reach Formenos I want you to gather the armor and weapons of my sons." His voice was even and toneless.
"Yes, Sire." she replied. "My Lord, may I ask why?" Narwende chose her words very carefully, knowing full well how easily angered he was.
"I will answer you in time." the new king said. "For now you must do as you are told."
With a hard swallow, Narwende replied again "Yes, Sire" and nothing more was spoken. She went straight away to the armory to gather what she had been told to then she went to her room and put on her own armor which had been made especially for her by Feanaro as a gift. With all the armor packed in sacks Narwende and Feanaro set out for Tirion. Narwende knew that the twelve year ban had not yet expired and her Lord was breaking a law by going hence but one as small as she did not have the physical strength or fortitude to go against her King. She followed him in relative silence until they reached the shining city. They entered the city and climbed it's winding roads and stairs to the pinnacle, calling out as they went to all who could hear to follow. As she climbed, a strong sense filled Narwende. Unable to discern whether it was fear or foreboding she swallowed it down. In the House of Finwe were all of Feanaro's kin save Indis, the wife of Finwe and her daughters, Findis and Lalwende. There, Narwende saw Nolofinwe and Arafinwe and their children. Also, Feanaor's sons had arrived. Outside were assembled those that had followed. So many had come that their lanterns caused the City to shine like a great gem. Together they all mourned for their lost king and father.
Vanwa ye Tarimma - The king is dead.