I still own nothing. It's short this time, but it seemed a perfect place to end the chapter so I went with it.


Calmëa was woken by the sound of a loud horn-call outside the house. More followed it, and people were shouting. She scrambled out of bed, pulled a robe on over her nightgown, and went to her window. The street was full of people, running here and there, some carrying torches, some bows. She stared. She'd never seen elves carrying strung bows within the walls of the city before.

"We will not allow these thieves to leave the haven in our ships!" shouted someone. Calmëa's heart skipped a beat. The Noldor... were stealing their ships? Their ships?

She dressed in a hurry and went out to see what was happening. She almost ran into her mother in the hall.

"Amillë!" she said in surprise. "What's going on? I heard someone shouting about the ships..."

Alcari nodded, a little breathless. "Silmë and your father have gone down to the haven. I don't know what's going to happen then - many of the Noldor were carrying swords."

Calmëa blinked, but reasoned that they'd probably want those when they arrived in Middle-Earth, if they truly meant to fight Melkor.

"What will we do?"

Alcari shook her head, looking around. Calmëa had never seen her like this, and felt herself beginning to panic. She swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the fluttery, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"I... I'm going down to the haven. I want to see what's going on, and I'll come back and tell you," she said, grabbing her cloak from a hook by the door and a lantern from a cupboard.

Her mother nodded, lighting the lantern for her. "I doubt that this will become too violent," she said. "After all, we've only heard rumours, but be careful. Just take a look, see if you can see Silmë and your father, and come back. Your father and I have friends outside the city - I will gather together things that we cannot leave behind and when you return I want you to leave the city."

Calmëa froze in her steps. "Leave?" she asked, turning, "But, Amillë... surely it won't come to that? Surely this can still be settled amicably?"

"I think so, Calmëa, but I don't want you still here if something does go wrong. Now run and bring back news - maybe my premonition is wrong; after all," she laughed, "I am not exactly gifted with foresight. But be careful!"

Calmëa turned and hurried into the street, her lantern held high, still feeling as though she had a bellyful of live fish.

She became aware that there were a lot of people and lights up ahead and darted into a side street to come from a different route from the main road that she - along with a lot of other elves - had been using. This road led her to a point that overlooked the haven and she stopped, gasping, at what she saw.

The people crying in the streets had been right; Noldor were boarding the ships that were moored by the jetties of the haven. Several had already been cast off. Many of her own people had climbed up the arch that formed a gate out to the sea - the Noldor would have to pass underneath them.

One ship - a fine, large one that Calmëa was sure was as old as she herself - was approaching the arch even as she watched, below her clifftop perch so she could see everything that was happening.

"Turn back, thieves!" bellowed a Teler on the arch, nocking an arrow to his bow to emphasise the demand. "Lord Olwë has told Fëanaró that you may not have our ships while the Valar contend your going. Turn back and leave our city!"

"Leave your city?" called a Noldo on the ship, and he laughed. "Aye, that we will, and speedily! We take the East road, that is the quickest!"

"You will not leave this haven in our ships!"

The Noldo climbed up onto the gunwale of the ship, holding onto a shroud for balance. He was still laughing and Calmëa recognised him as one of the elves that had accompanied Feanaro to his ill-fated conference with Lord Olwë. One of his sons, perhaps? The laughter faded from his lips as the Telerin spokesman drew back his bowstring.

"It's no use," he said, "You alone will not stop us. Best if you join us now - you see that we will not give up."

The Teler was silent.

"You only do the will of the one that brought this darkness upon us if you hinder us in our quest."

Still, the Teler did not respond, nor did his hold on his bow slacken. He was not the only one with an arrow nocked and ready to loose, and many of his companions held stones ready to hurl. Yet they hesitated, unwilling to harm fellow elves while this could still be settled with speech.

The Noldor had no such reservations.

Calmëa let out a scream as, from somewhere below her, perhaps on the ship, perhaps the shore, an arrow found its mark. The Teler dropped his bow and collapsed against the elf standing beside him, who grabbed him, taking a step back to balance himself, and lowered him to the floor. From where she was standing Calmëa wasn't certain if he had merely swooned or if he was dead, but she could see the arrow buried almost to the fletchings in his chest and the horrible stillness of his body as the other elf tried to tend the wound.

There was a long, breathless pause, broken at last by the elf's cry of "Murderers!"