Green shores, smooth as the dancing lawns of Nessa, rose gently from foamy strands to the deeper green of woodlands. Olorin, leaning on the rail of the white ship, looked at it in wonder. "This is a fair country."
"You sound surprised." said his friend Alatar.
"I am." Olorin admitted. "Foolishly no doubt. But I was expecting black land and overshadowing fumes, like Utumno of old."
"We will find lands dark enough as we go northward. But Melkor has not held these shores long enough - yet - to leave his mark upon them." Alatar answered. The two Maiar turned away from the rail moving towards the afterdeck where the master of their vessel stood beside the helmsman.
Both were well above the stature of Elves but Alatar was a head taller then his friend; dark of hair and eye, green and brown of raiment. A great bow, taller then a man, was slung over his shoulder and a horn hung at his side, for he was one of the Huntsmen of Orome and led the host of the Tavari, the wild Maiar of forest and fell.
Olorin's hair was long and pale with a moonlit sheen even under the full light of the sun, and his eyes were deep and blue like the waters of Lorellin, the lake of dreams, in the gardens of Lorien. And he was garbed all in grey for he was a servant of Lorien and of gentle Este, and was one of the chiefs of the healing Maiar sent to mend the hurts of Middle Earth, in so far as they might.
The master of their ship was a Teleri of the Swanhaven. He stood, legs braced well apart, swaying with the motion of his white ship. His dark hair flowed in the wind and his bright eyes were fixed on the distant shore.
"Ho, Captain," Alatar called up to him, "where do we land? this Isle of Balar?"
The Teleri shook his head. "No, Lord, we go to the Havens the Lady Elwing spoke of, or rather to whatever the Sons of Feanor have left of them."
"We must prepare ourselves for grim sights." said Olorin, who remembered only too well the ruin of Alqualonde with its dead lying bloodied and astonished in street and dock.
----
Sirillonde was rather sad to look upon; its fair houses now roofless and weathered shells. but if blood had stained its white streets it had been washed away by the spring and summer rains of many years. And of the bodies of the slain there was no sign.
The broken docks were insufficient for the harborage of the vast fleet bearing the Host and ships dropped anchor all along the white strands west of the city. East of it lay the winding waterways and soft green fens of the great river's mouths.
"Alatar, Olorin, come see!" called Kalrondo. The captain of the Champions of Tulkas, ruddy faced and golden haired, clad only in a kilt brazen mail, waved to them from the neighboring dock. Obeying his call they disembarked and came to stand beside him, all three staring down in surprise at a small boat, shallow of draft and square of prow, tied to the high pier.
"This has not lain here for all the years since the Haven was ravaged." said Kalrondo, stating the obvious as was his habit.
Alatar dropped into the boat, ran his hands over the smooth grey wood and looked up; "This is no Orc craft. Nor does it have the look of Elf work."
"The Second born then." Olorin guessed and looked over his shoulder at the ruined city. "But why come here?"
"No doubt Cirdan can tell us." said Kalrondo. "He has been sent for and we are bidden by Eonwe to council."
"Then let us go." said Alatar, springing back onto the dock.
Kalrondo led them into the city, towards the cracked and fire blackened dome of what had once been a great hall, similar in form - and no doubt function - to the vaulted feast hall of the Noldorin Kings in Tirion upon Tuna.
"It is strange to walk rather than be where one wills with the thought." Olorin remarked ruefully to his companions.
The Captain of Tulkas laughed at him. "So it is true what they say, that you have never clothed yourself in shape before?"
"It is true. I never saw the need." Olorin answered, grimaced. "I must say I find the limitations - onerous."
"At least that explains why none of us had seen you before the muster of the Host." said Alatar.
Olorin smiled a little. "Yet I have seen all of you when you came to Lorien for rest and healing."
"I call it discourteous not to have introduced yourself!" Kalrondo cut his amusement short as Alatar's head turned sharply. "What is it, Huntsman?"
"Nothing. I have but forgotten something on the ship. Go on, I will catch up with you." such were Alatar's words aloud, but mind to mind he said; 'There are eyes upon us, Brothers, lead them on while I circle behind.'
"A careless lot these huntsmen of Orome's" Kalrondo said loudly and cheerfully as he and Olorin continued onward. "Always forgetting something. I remember during the Wars -" a piercing shriek, near at hand, cut through his words like steel blade through flesh.
The two Maiar ran beneath a broken arch into a ruinous courtyard where they found their companion gripping a creature, small and frail and golden haired, which struggled wildly in his grasp all the while tearing the air with the high, thin screams of something young and terrified.
"There, child, there. We mean you no harm." Alatar was saying helplessly to his captive. His eye caught the healer's with a hint of desperation. "For Orome's sake and your Mistress', quiet her, Olorin!"
He knelt down but before he could even touch the creature, whose kind he could not quite see for she was moving so much, Olorin was struck, indeed almost flattened, by a wiry hurtling form. Others dodged between Kalrondo and Alatar, eluding their grasp and pulling the huntsman's captive free.
Struggling to his feet Olorin found himself facing a band of small but determined warriors circled protectively around a sobbing, golden haired child. Four boys, two dark with delicate Elven features, and two fair, their soft young faces fierce, all clutching long knives held at the ready.
The three Maiar stared at them, caught between wonder at the sight of creatures so fair and fresh in this place of old death. And of dismay at the fear and anger radiating from the boys and the sheer terror of the small, golden haired girl.
Kalrondo and Alatar both looked helplessly at Olorin, obviously it was for him, the healer, to reassure these children of the Children. "We mean you no harm -" he began, a little awkwardly and was promptly interrupted by one of the two Elven boys.
"Then why did he grab Lalie? he demanded aggressively. "She wasn't doing anything."
"I sensed we were being watched." Alatar answered. "I feared Orcs."
The taller of the fair haired boys snorted. "Orcs don't come here. They don't dare."
The Maiar exchanged another look, this one bewildered. "Does not Melkor dominate all of Middle Earth so his creatures may go where they will? Kalrondo asked.
"He wishes!" the Elven boy snorted. "Don't you know anything?"
"It would seem not." said Olorin. "According to the Dooms of Mandos all Middle Earth is in the hand of the Ruiner and Men and Elves are scattered and in hiding."
All four boys laughed contemptuously at this and even the small girl stopped her weeping to stare. "Well he's right about the hiding part anyway." the hitherto silent Elf child said to his brother.
"Don't the Valar know anything?" the fair haired boy asked again, voice full of scorn.
"How can they, hiding behind their mountain walls?" the first Elf-child answered him, then to Olorin. "Go back to the West, we don't want you here!"
"That we cannot." said Kalrondo. "We have our orders." then to his companions; "We should take them to Eonwe."
"No! we're not going anywhere with you." knives bristled.
"The body of our host lies between you and your boat." the champion pointed out reasonably. "What can you do but come with us?"
The boys bit their lips and the girl began to sob again.
"No harm will come to you." Olorin repeated. "But the captain general of our host will wish to hear what you can tell."
"After which he will send you home." added Alatar.
The boys exchanged looks. "I think we have to go." said the quieter of the two Elf-children.
The fair haired Man-children seemed disinclined to agree. But the other Elven boy, who seemed to be their leader, said; "Elrond's right, we've got no choice." then glared fiercely up at the Maiar. "But you're not touching Lalie!"
"We will not lay hand on any of you." Olorin said quickly.
Even so the little girl dripped tears of terror all the way to the hall and it was a thoroughly miserable trio of Maiar who finally delivered their captives into the presence of their peers.
All the captains of the Host were assembled beneath the broken dome: Eonwe himself, herald of Manwe, sat at their head, his great blue cloak studded with stars. To his right was bright Ilmare, chief handmaiden of Varda, all in white with twinkling jewels of adamant clustered upon her brow and scattered through her long pale hair. Makarion of the long spear, Captain of Ancala, sat on Eonwe's left hand. The light of Anar shone in his eyes, and his bright armor was etched with coiling flames. Beyond him was Lisinen, Lady of Sweet Waters, vassel of Ulmo crystals sparkling like drops of rain in her hair and scattered over her pale raiment. Then came Mahtan, Chief of the Craftsmen of Aule, broad of shoulder and stong of arm, his cuirass of steel studded with many jewels. And beside him was black clad Mornir, night dark herald of Mandos. An empty chair, intended for Alatar stood between the Doomsman's captain and fair Lea, vassal of Yavanna and Vana both, her green raiment sewn with living flowers. Then came Kalrondo's empty place, and Olorin's beside it, and finally, next to Ilmare, Estele the gentle servant of Nienna, with her clear eyes and a cloak of soft grey over a white gown.
Even the boys, who had kept up a good front hitherto, quailed before this assemblage and the little girl wailed aloud and cast herself upon the ground. Consternation rippled through the ranks of the Maiar but Lisinen sprang from her chair to gather the little ones in the circle of her arms. "Hush, hush. Do you not know me, surely the Children of Men have not forgotten Vidri?" The small girl stopped crying and nestled confidingly against Lisinen's breast. The boys regained their color and straightened their backs.
"Yes, Lady," said the Elf-child who seemed to be their spokesmen. "We remember you." words that would have surprised Lisinen's peers under other circumstances but now they were too relieved to question. The Lady of the Waters stood back, gathering the littlest of the children in her arms and holding her as the boys faced the ring of captains with renewed courage.
Olorin, Alatar and Kalrondo took their places. Eonwe cleared his throat. "Who is this you have brought us?"
"I am Elros son of Earendil." the Elven boy answered proudly. "And this is Elrond, my brother. And our kin; Hurin and Haleth and their sister Lalaith." he glared fiercely and with hatred at Manwe's herald. "You killed our father and mother!"
"What?" Eonwe cried in dismay. "No! No, child, that is not so. Both are alive and well in Aman though they may not return to this Hither Shore."
"One of you told Aerandir and the others that Father and Mother were no longer their concern. We thought that meant they were dead." said Elrond.
Eonwe shook his head. "No. That was I, and I meant only that they had chosen to be counted among Elves and were no longer of the race of Men."
Elros frowned. "I don't believe you."
"Then believe me." said Makarion with a smile.
Olorin, in his place across the circle, winced. the Lord of the Keen Edge was fearsome enough to the Elder Children. No doubt he would throw these youngsters into fits of terror. But he did not.
All five children's eyes turned to Makarion and they did not flinch nor look away from his brightness. Instead an answering light shone in their faces and the fair haired boy named Hurin breathed in wonder: "Somar?"
"Yes, it is I. And you know I do not lie." the five small heads, dark and fair, nodded. They knew this indeed - but how?
Elros turned back to Eonwe. "You could have spoken clearer!"
"I could have indeed." the herald answered heavily. "I wronged your father's companions and I wronged you, his sons. I am sorry."
The boy bowed formally. "I accept your apology on behalf of us all." he said. And all the children seemed to relax a little.
"Now then," Makarion said briskly, "where did you come from? Do you live here?"
"Oh no. Nobody's lived in Sirillond since the sack, but we like to come here sometimes to play. Our home lies in the fens." said Elros.
"Surely you do not live there alone?" said Lea in dismay.
"Of course not." Elros said scornfully. "We live with Uncle Urin and Aunt Nineth."
Mornir was startled into speech. "How can that be? Urin son of Turin is chief captain of Melkor!"
"He is not!" Hurin cried, and would have launched himself upon Mornir had not Elrond caught him by the cloak.
"Hurin, don't!"
"How dare you say that about our father!" shouted Haleth with clenched fists.
"You're the bad ones! All of you!!" shrieked his little sister.
"Such was the word of Mandos." Mornir insisted tactlessly.
"Then he's a liar!" Elros shouted back.
"Silence!" Eonwe thundered. The children subsided, breathing heavily. "Speak with due reverence of the Valar, Elros son of Earendil." he continued sternly.
"I don't care who he is. If he speaks ill of Uncle Urin he lies!" the boy answered defiantly.
There was a moment of silence. The assembled Maiar gazed nonplussed at the defiant children.
"It would seem," Makarion said mildly at last, "that all is not as we were told here in the Hither Lands."
"You can say that again." muttered Hurin son of Urin.
"The Dooms of Mandos are written in the Music" Mornir argued. "They cannot be wrong."
"And yet these little ones say that they are." Ilmare pointed out. "How are we to read this riddle?"
The children seethed but were held silent by Makarion's warning gaze. Lisinen cuddled Lalaith who muttered angrily into her bedewed robes.
This silence was broken by entrance of Eonwe's lieutenant Nornore. "My Lords, Cirdan is come."
An all but audibly sight of relief went through the Maiar. Now, at last, they would get some clear answers.
-----
Note: Olorin is, of course, Gandalf. Alatar will become one of the Blue Wizards. Except for them, and for Eonwe and Ilmare, all the Maiar Captains are mine rather then Tolkien's.
Ancala of the Flame is a Vala of my invention. She is keeper of 'Anar' the White Flame of Truth. Arien, the sun, was her handmaiden.