A story commenting on the modern 'hot button issue' of immigration. Featuring xenophobic Sindar and unintegrated Noldor.
Warnings: none, apart from flagrant misuse of canon, mockery and a rather bitter ending.
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Menegroth Immigration Dept.
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"They are refugees, not invaders," said Melian, putting a calming hand on her husband's forearm. "They are fleeing from a terrible event in the Blessed Realm which is beyond my sight. We ought to extend our welcome to them, and help them as we may."
There was a brief silence in respect for the wise words of Melian the Maia. "I agree," came the voice of a lord of Ossiriand from towards the front. "My lord, we cannot send them back across the Helcaraxë, knowing they flee from danger. It would be neither right nor moral. Whatever they may have done, they are still Elves."
Thingol turned from his wife to address the other assembled dignitaries. There was no sympathy in his voice when he spoke. "They should have thought of that before they troubled the peace of our realm," he said, to a rumble of agreement from certain factions in the hall. "I have nothing against these Noldor of the Blessed Realm, despite the many differences that now exist between us and them. But unrightfully do they come, and without asking leave they settle in my lands, including those who have slain my kin at Alqualondë. This I cannot accept."
"Why not send back only the criminals?" suggested a plump delegate from the Hithlum region. "Clearly, we cannot allow them to stay, as they will surely kill again. But we cannot tar them all with the same brush, so to speak. Why, the miners among my people are greatly enriched by the Noldor blacksmiths in Hithlum!"
"Those Noldorin blacksmiths also fell trees in Hithlum," added the softly melodious voice of Daeron, "to stoke their furnaces. They may well enrich your folk, but they will tire of your lands and come to ours, and burn our forests to make their fell swords and helmets. Valinor is for them, Beleriand for us. They do not belong here – and what if more of them come?"
"Exactly so, and what of our own blacksmiths?" Eöl of Nan Elmoth emerged from the shadows at the back of the meeting-hall, his gravelly voice raised to address the entire council. "How am I to sell my swords when the Noldor can work at twice the rate and swallow up all the mined ore into their forges? They are pricing me out of the market."
"Not to mention that there will be nothing but Noldor in Hithlum in a few years if you let them stay there – thousands of them. Look at that Prince of theirs with seven bloody sons," came an indistinct mutter from the corner.
"Now, Daeron, Eöl," countered the man of Hithlum, "that's nothing more than ridiculous fear-sowing. Who among you would like to labour in the forge day in, day out, in order to survive? To sell your swords for cheap bread?" Eöl's mouth became a thin line, but he said nothing. "They do work that no Sinda would touch, and they allow us to focus our skills on the beautification of the Thousand Caves, rather than wasting our expertise making functional items. I say fill Hithlum full of them, and put them to work. I for one would not object to more Noldor on my land, if they carry on providing us with such fine weaponry."
"No, I think Master Daeron may have a point," said one of Thingol's advisors. "They settle all over the North, not only in Hithlum, and they are proud. Look at them carving up our land and naming it, and declaring themselves Lords of parts of King Thingol's realm. Lords! It takes quite some nerve to accept our hospitality then try to take over our kingdom. Most of them don't even speak Sindarin – and those Feanorians in the East have bastardised the Green-Elvish tongue by mixing it with their own, instead of learning it properly." (1)
"Then teach them!" cried Lúthien, rising from her chair at her father's side. "Who among you has tried to learn their language?"
Daeron shuddered. "I wouldn't want to! Hissing, degenerate, decadent. There is no music or poetry in that language, merely ostentation and vanity. We do not try to learn Dwarf-speech, after all. They keep to their own people, as should we. And that is a lot easier without Noldor rampaging all over our lands."
"We would do far better to hold council with them, rather than trying them in their absence. Do you see one Noldo at this meeting?" Lúthien made a sweeping gesture with her elegant hand, indicating that there was, indeed, not one Noldo in the hall.
"They cannot be expected to understand the proceedings, surely… we forget that they probably do not have such a court as that of the Thousand Caves in Valinor. They are used to their Kings telling them what to do, by the way they have conducted themselves since coming here," was the polite reply of one of Thingol's courtiers. Lúthien sat down, subdued.
"Well, it seems clear enough to me,"
said Thingol in his voice of authority. The delegates fell silent and
listened to the King. "The Noldor immigrants, although
undoubtedly helpful, refuse to integrate and accept our way of doing
things in Beleriand. They have brought war and civil unrest to this
country, and some of them come with bloodstained hands. Therefore, we
shall deport the foreign criminals
back to Valinor."
"But my Lord!" cried the lord of Ossiriand.
"Let their ships wander lost in the Shadowy Isles!" added Eöl with a malicious smile.
"Come to order, gentlemen. It may be that the Valar forgive them and welcome them back to their Blessed Land," said Thingol. "As for the rest, we shall allow them to remain in Hithlum."
And so it was. After the forced departure of the Fëanorians, who disappeared into the West to a fate unknown, the Noldor of Beleriand were almost completely confined to Hithlum. They mainly worked in manufacturing ironware goods for trade, while the court of Thingol was greatly enriched by their labour. "Hisilómë Sindarin", as it was disparagingly called by the intellectuals of Thingol's court, became their language.
When war threatened, King Thingol's army was largely made up of young Hithlum-born Noldor escaping a life of limited prospects. At the defeat, mixed loyalties and treachery among the soldiers was blamed. The Noldor acquired a reputation of willing helpers of Morgoth, as the captured from among their number were frequently put to work in the mines of Angband. With Hithlum in ruins, the problems only became worse as the Noldor had to settle where they might in Thingol's kingdom. The Second Kinslaying, a war of frustration and despair, took place shortly after, and none could discern who started it.
The mortals looked down from the peaks of the Ered Luin, saw Beleriand, and turned back.
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(1) The idea of creolised Elven languages is one of my own and has no basis in canon – at least, as far as I know.