PART ONE: SOLITUDE

CHAPTER I

Mithlond, S.A. 600

"Happy begetting day, Híthriel," Tyelpe said, handing me a glass of Sindarin wine.

I accepted the drink courteously, receiving it with both hands and a dip of my head. "Thank you."

It was the night of Tarnin Hríve indeed, although we knew that it was not truly my begetting day, merely when we observed it to be. Some Eldalië were dancing in pairs to the septet's lilting music throughout the hall, and others conversed along the perimeter of the chamber. I myself was garbed in a mantle-like dress of black, jeweled with crystals like the scatter of stars upon the night sky. Many were present here, for a council had been called from all the cities of the realm of Lindon; thus people from Mithlond, Forlond, and Harlond had all gathered within this hall. Tonight was the feast and celebration; there would be pensive talk on the morrow.

"Artanis was looking for you earlier." I swirled the glass in my hand as Tyelpe's face flushed. I made sure no one had noticed when I slipped a bit of the draft for the ungolócë into the wine. It was better to do it at regular intervals; I could not risk not to.

"Was she?" he said, turning his face and trying in vain to pretend that the crimson upon his cheeks was from the wine.

"Yes," I told him, pointedly ignoring his countenance. "She seems to have a. . .concern. I think I will let the two of you figure that out."

He looked relieved, desperate to change the topic. "Likewise, I came upon Dínaelin some time before this. He seemed inclined to speak to you; I suppose he'll find you sometime soon."

"Oh?" I said. "What for?"

"Ah, I don't suppose I know," Tyelpe said, still looking pained from speaking of Artanis. "Perhaps for a talk?"

"Good answer." I took a sip of the wine. "I heard you made her. . .a trinket?"

"Who?" he said sharply. "Oh, yes, indeed. I did. It is another version of the Elessar, like the one I made in Gondolin."

"The word—Elessar. Is it Annúnaid?" I asked.

"Yes, Westron," Tyelpe said, evidently still distracted. He was tapping his fingers nervously upon the table and looking about. "Annúnaid or Falathren, depending on what you call it in Sindarin."

"The language comes from Taliska, does it not?" I calmly observed his fidgets, and upon catching his darting eyes took another taste of the wine to cover up my expression. "Evolved from the language of the Edain spoken by the House of Bëor and the House of Hador."

"Yes, which was also influenced by the Naugrim," Tyelpe told me. "Did I tell you I learned some of Khuzdûl? It's quite an interesting language. Very different from Sindarin, even more from Quenya."

"You did not. Moryo learned Taliska once—do you remember? It was during the Long Peace. It seems that the Haleth girl—the Chieftain of the Haladin, that is—was an excellent tutor; Moryo, in fact, did develop a Taliska accent on his Noldorin speech."

He seemed surprised for me to speak so openly of Fëanorians in this age, more than six centuries after their downfall, although he certainly could be counted as one himself. The First Age itself had lasted nearly six centuries. "Why. . .yes, I remember."

I smiled faintly. "For that I am glad. It seemed Moryo had been quite happy then, when he met Haleth, don't you think?"

"What are you suggesting?"

The thought made me sad. "Ah—nothing."

"Good," Tyelpe said stiffly. "I don't take favor in my heritage."

We spent a strained moment in silence. I opened my mouth.

"May I ask, what is on your—"

"Ah, look—there comes Dínaelin!" Tyelpe exclaimed loudly, drawing the ellon's attention. "He must have been looking for you for so long; I should have gone to tell him!"

Perhaps when I was younger I might have rolled my eyes, but I only smiled warmly as Dínaelin approached. "Suilad, iaur mellon!" I said, lightly embracing him. "It has been long since we last met."

"Híthriel," he said by way of greeting. "It's nice seeing you again."

"Likewise," I said, noting that Tyelpe had somehow disappeared. "How have you been doing? Do you reside in Forlond?"

"I do," Dínaelin told me. "Naergon and Saerin are there too."

"Are they. . .here tonight?" I inquired.

"Yes, in fact." Dínaelin jerked his chin to the other side of the room. "I believe Saerin is somewhere over there, but Naergon—I think he has stayed behind tonight."

I tried not to linger on the last part of that. "And Silivros and Talethien? Have you seen them?"

"Oh, the Harlond ones?" He chuckled. "Yes. Églanim too. It's quite a large festival this year, you know. You needn't ask."

"I only wondered."

We watched for a moment as the Eldalië danced, their garb shimmering in the flickering candlelight.

"You have been in Mithlond all this time?" Dínaelin asked.

"Most of the time, I suppose," I told him. "Though at times I go elsewhere. Tyelpe plans on founding another realm somewhere farther away from here, in the east. We've been looking by the Hithaeglir, at the base of the mountains."

"Miss somewhere colder?"

I smiled. "Now that you mention it, I guess so."

"I take it the weather there is like Gondolin?" he inquired.

"I'd say the north in general, but yes."

Dínaelin turned to face me. "Where were you before Gondolin? You've never told me."

"I've never spoken to you that much," I reminded him. "Only those short instances in Gondolin and some time after. . .it happened." It was hard for me to say the words of the Drowning of Beleriand—it made me think of drowning in ashes, in ruin, in fire.

We said goodbye long ago. This shouldn't be so hard, should it be?

Not anymore, I hoped.

Dínaelin's words drew me from my thoughts. "True," he said, sighing. "A decent ellon wouldn't pry so much into an elleth's life, would they?"

I gave him a quizzical look and granted myself another mouthful of the Sindarin wine, forgetting what we had been speaking of before. My cheeks were beginning to feel flushed from the spirituous drink so I set the glass down upon the table, a little too forcefully.

"Are you all right?" Dínaelin asked.

"Hm? Ah, yes. My hand slipped," I told him stiffly. "I have become. . .careless nowadays. Would you like my drink?"

"I'm sorry? Ah, all right, if you would like." He sounded confused, but I did not turn to look.

"I think I will be going for a breath of air outside," I said, slipping the glass into his fingers. "Pleasant talk."

I brushed past the Eldalië conversing lightly and headed out of the hall swiftly before Dínaelin could say anything else or follow. The night air outside was cool, but not as cold and crisp as it had been in Himring. In the rippling of the water in the slight wind, I could see the reflections of the archways and cloisters of the city of Mithlond, lavish, intricate designs carved into their pillars. It reminded me of the Falas, in a way, for it was a quiet realm by the sea, far away from many things and yet not.

Sometimes speaking so much Sindarin made me afraid that I would forget the old tongue of Quenya and the amilessë my mother had given me. I didn't want to lose who I was, even though the truth may be hideous. I had to remember who I was, I had to remember what had happened. Do not forget, Artanis had warned me. I hadn't in fact, and to be sure of it, wrote much of it down. Perhaps someday I would make an amusing list of adjectives of myself and recite them.

I noticed suddenly that someone was behind me, and turned to find a little girl standing there, her eyes wan and the silver of the Sindar. Like I was, she was garbed in a formal raiment for the feast—a long dress of gold that drifted to the ground at the ends. It was an elaborate, lavish gown, but she still had the child's face, and looked about twelve in Eldalië years, which would have been, in appearance, like a four year old Atani girl.

"Hello there," I said to her.

"Hello," she returned, walking over to the edge of the pier where I stood, and sat down, her legs dangling over the side and brushing the water.

I sat myself down beside her and gazed into the dark horizon beyond as she did the same. Children were rare and greatly treasured in Eldalië societies, and was a green time of growth and joy for many. The Eldalië wedded for the most part in their youth and soon after their fiftieth year. They had few children, but these were very dear to them. Their families, or houses, were held together by love and a deep feeling for kinship in mind and body; and the children needed little governing or teaching. There were seldom more than four children in any house, and the number grew less as ages passed.

It was told that the Eldalië grew in bodily form slower than Atani, but in mind more swiftly. They learned to speak before they were one year old; and in the same time they learned to walk and to dance, for their wills came soon to the mastery of their bodies.

Nonetheless there was less difference between the two Kindreds in early youth; and a man who watched elf-children at play might well have believed that they were the children of Atani, of some fair and happy people. For in their early days Eldalië children delighted still in the world about them, and the fire of their spirit had not consumed them, and the burden of memory was still light upon them.*

"Do you live in Mithlond?" I asked her. "Or are you here for the gathering?"

"My father and I come from Harlond," she told me. "My uncle is a lord there." She turned to me. "Vandë omentaina. My name is Taeloth."

I was taken aback by her use of Quenya, and opened my mouth to reply, but no words came out.

She laughed softly, her silver hair glinting in the starlight. "I thought you would enjoy a bit of the Old Tongue."

I smiled faintly. "I did. I'm sorry about that—I am known as Híthriel."

Taeloth nodded, and turned back to the silent sea. All was quiet for a moment, then—

"Did you fight in the War of Wrath?"

I was motionless for a brief moment, then lowered my gaze to the dark waters. "No. Only survived it."

She hadn't turned to look at me. "They say that none of the Hither Lands fought in it, nor the Teleri. Only those from the Blessed Realm of Valinor."

I didn't reply for a long while. At last Taeloth stood, dipping her head at me.

"I should head back. They would be looking for me," she said.

"It was pleasure meeting you, Taeloth," I returned.

"Likewise," she said, and retreated back to the hall.

A few moments later an ellon stepped out from the shadows of the cloister and settled where Taeloth had been.

"Talethien," I said, surprised. "I thought you would be at the feast."

"I was," he admitted, turning to face me. "Well met, Lady Híthriel. It has been long since our last meeting." He still looked quite the same from when I had last seen him at the beginning of the Second Age, with the common Sindarin traits of silver hair and eyes, but now his eyes were marked with something different than it had before—when I first met him he had been young and naïve. The Kinslaying at Doriath had changed us all, had opened our eyes to a new sort of cruelty we had only experienced once before.

"Should I be glad that you address me as 'lady' after what you have seen me do? I am no lady, and you know that well," I said.

"I know the third High King of the Noldor Fingolfin took you as his child in the early years of the First Age, Híthriel. It is no secret to me now."

"It never was," I muttered. "Who told you?"

"Lord Celebrimbor, evidently," Talethien said. "Who else could it have been? I was speaking to him when I left for Harlond."

"I would not have known that."

He sighed, then jerked his chin to where Taeloth had gone. "That was my niece you were speaking to there."

"Really?" I said, cocking my head, and he nodded. "And you called me a deceiver."

"What do you mean?" Talethien went stiff.

"Unless she has more uncles, which she likely does, you're a lord of the Sindar."

He sighed again in defeat. "Amusing way to figure out that bit of information."

"And you accused me for inventing a name for Églanim. What is your true name?"

"Talethien is a name of mine," he protested. "At least now it is, as an epessë."

I laughed, throwing my head back. "Oh, very clever. What is your ataressë?"

Talethien scowled, in resignation and humiliation. "Oropher."

"You don't like beech trees?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why would you alter your name for me when you have such a nicely devised name of tall beech trees?"

"I'm not very tall," Talethien complained. "It would be inaccurate."

A sudden unwanted thought strayed into my mind. Compared to Maedhros the Tall you aren't. That's what Finno always said. I immediately wanted to unmake time.

"Hith?" Talethien said.

I noticed my knuckles were white, as I had clenched my hands into fierce fists. "What is it?"

He turned away. "Nothing."

There was a short silence, but at length I spoke again.

"Are you a relative of Thingol's then? He didn't like me very much. It wouldn't be surprising if he influenced you to think that way—he did that to his entire realm, evidently."

"Something like that." Talethien shifted uncomfortably.

"Taeloth is a good child. You have taught her well."

"How did you know?"

I paused. "What did I know?"

He drew in a breath. "Her father was killed in the Second Kinslaying. Her mother was wounded from the battle, and died shortly after birthing her. I have raised Taeloth since she was a mere babe. My wife was slain at Doriath too."

I was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry. I understand."

"You do, don't you?" He glanced at me for a fleeting moment, as if realizing something. "You lost everyone—everything."

I looked at him, my eyes glinting in the moonlight as I turned. "More years have passed since the span of the First Age. It matters not now." Preferring to change the topic, I spoke again. "I can understand why your people hate the Noldor so much."

"It was not all of you," Talethien said. "Or half of you, whatever the other half of your blood is."

"Would you like to know?"

He considered it. "It may be to my interest, yes."

"My father is a Maia."

"Was he there in the War?" Talethien asked, almost by instinct.

I only said, "Yes."

Eldarin References:

Ungolócë. (Q) A lethal poison; lit. Serpent in the Shadows.

Annúnaid. (S) Sindarin name for the language Andûni, or Westron.

Westron. The language of the Dúnedain of Middle-earth. By the end of the Third Age it was more or less a universal language spoken throughout the Westlands.

Falathren. (S) A Sindarin name for Westron. It is derived from the word falas, "shore", as its first speakers settled on the shores of Middle-earth.

Taliska. (S) A Mannish language spoken by the Edain of the House of Bëor and House of Hador.

Khuzdûl. The language of the Naugrim. Not much is known of the language, as the Naugrim kept it to themselves.

Suilad, iaur mellon. (S) Greetings, old friend.

Elleth. (S) Female Elda, plural ellith.

Ellon. (S) Male Elda, plural ellyn.

Amilessë. (Q) Mother-name.

Vandë omentaina. (Q) Pleased to meet you.

Epessë. (Q) Chosen name.

Ataressë. (Q) Father-name.

*Morgoth's Ring, Part III. The Later Quenta Silmarillion: The Second Phase: Laws and Customs among the Eldar.