Chapter 6: Out on the Water
In which Maglor sails to Eressëa, the sons of Fëanor go hunting and Fëanor locks himself up in his forge and demands an onion.
The kitchen seemed empty. It was a large room, with a big wooden table and shelves that should have been stocked with food. Now, however, there was nothing in the room but two elves, a leather pack on the table, some dust in the corners and the golden sunlight.
"Well, I suppose I should go," said Maglor, without a trace of eagerness in his voice.
"I suppose so," said Maedhros. "I would offer to come with you, but..."
"It wouldn't help, no," said Maglor. "You are not exactly made for avoiding attention. I'm not even sure I can avoid getting recognized."
"You should have a reasonable chance," said Maedhros. "There must be plenty of people there who have never seen you, and those who did, well, it was millenia ago and they only saw you once."
"Well, yes, but they saw me right before I killed them, Russandol. I expect it's hard to forget something like that."
"You are probably right," said Maedhros, "but there's no other way, so we'll just have to hope for the best."
Maglor sighed.
"That has never really worked for us, has it? Farewell then, brother."
He embraced his brother and left. Although he was used to walking, this somehow felt very hard. Alqualondë. He was going to Alqualondë. He knew perfectly well why he had to do it, but it did not make things any easier. The Teleri had forgiven the Noldor long ago, of course, but Maglor had a sneaking suspicion that this did not include him and his family.
The kitchen seemed even emptier now. Maedhros sighed. He did hope that their plan would succeed, of course, but centuries of everything getting steadily worse had made him a somewhat pessimistic person. The universe simply didn't seem to like the house of Fëanor - although, sometimes, he could understand why the universe would feel that way.
His thoughts were interrupted by the door slamming open and his two youngest brothers storming in, one of them dropping a deer carcass in the process.
"Is Makalaurë gone?" said Amrod.
"Yes," said Maedhros. "And pick up your deer, please."
"Sorry about that," said Amras and picked it up. "We thought it would be a good idea to get some food. Where are the others?"
"Father is in the forge," said Maedhros. Amras looked worried.
"What exactly is he working on?"
"I didn't ask," said Maedhros. "You can go and ask him, if you like."
"I'd rather not," muttered Amras, and looked down at the deer in his arms. "Well, I suppose we had better take care of this."
It was evening when Maglor reached Alqualondë. The sun was setting behind him and its last rays coloured the white city red. That did not seem like a good omen. He hesitated for a moment, and then started walking again. Best to get it over with.
He passed one house. Two houses. No one had recognized him yet. Three houses. Four. He kept expecting that somebody would shout "Murderer!" but nothing happened. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. He breathed out - only now did he realize he had been holding his breath since he entered the town - and stopped counting. Find a tavern near the water, that was the next step. Find a tavern and a captain who would sail in the morning.
"Isn't Father going to eat?" said Caranthir.
"He said he didn't want to be disturbed," said Curufin. "Give me some more meat, please, Attarussa."
"He hasn't eaten anything today," said Celegorm. "Perhaps we should bring him some food?"
"We might as well," said Maedhros. "Erwen, since you seem to have finished eating already..."
"Erm," said Erwen, "perhaps it would be better if one of you -"
"Why?" said Celegorm, putting down his knife.
"Well, for a start, he's less likely to kill any of you," said Erwen.
"Don't count on it," said Amras.
"He won't kill you," said Maedhros. "Fetch a plate and get going."
"I don't like forges," muttered Erwen, but she did as she was told. People tended to do that when Maedhros gave them orders.
Maglor did not sleep that night. He simply sat on his bed and waited for the morning, or for someone to rush in and accuse him of murder, whichever happened first. When the first glimpse of light appeared in the east, he arose and went down the stairs and into the fresh morning air. It did not take him long to get to the harbour. He had expected to feel something - guilt, maybe, or sorrow - when he saw it, but he didn't. The tranquil scene in front of him bore no resemblance to the Kinslaughter. It was hard to understand that it was here it had happened.
The ship was a typical Telerin swanship. Maglor had talked to its captain yesterday night; the boy could not be more than a couple of hundred years old, and had not had the slightest idea that the plainly-dressed traveller who wanted to go to Eressëa was in fact Makalaurë Fëanárion. There was nobody else in sight, but Maglor decided to wait until someone arrived before boarding the ship. He didn't want to be accused of trying to steal it, after all.
Maedhros woke up. He noted that he was alive, had all his appendages attached and had been sleeping in a bed. He concluded that this day had begun well. Of course, there was still a distinct possibility that it would end badly.
But the day continued to go well. Fëanor showed up for breakfast, even though he didn't take notice when anyone spoke to him and returned to the forge as soon as he had finished eating. After breakfast Celegorm suggested another hunting trip, and although the twins did complain a bit about being left behind, they grudgingly admitted that it was fair, since they had gone yesterday. Even the weather remained beautiful.
He had made it. He was out on the water and no one had discovered who he was. Even if they somehow found out now, they would hardly throw him overboard, would they? Probably not, although to be on the safe side he avoided the other travellers as much as possible. Sometimes he wished he'd chosen a smaller ship, but that probably wouldn't have made hiding his identity any easier. Perhaps even the opposite. Anyway, the more innocent people on the ship with him, the less the chance of Ossë sinking it in a fit of rage. At least he hoped so.
The captain had said that, if the wind did not change dramatically, they would reach the island before nightfall. That still seemed like plenty of time for things to go wrong.
It was mid-afternoon when Maedhros, Celegorm, Caranthir and Curufin returned from their successful hunt. In the kitchen they found a big bowl of hazelnuts, as well as some apples and strange knobbly roots.
"The twins claimed those roots were edible," said Erwen, appearing in the opposite doorway with a piece of parchment in one hand and an ink-dripping pen in the other. "If any of you drop dead after eating them, don't hold me responsible."
"Those are edible," said Celegorm. "Rather tasty, actually. So where are the twins?"
"I don't know," said Erwen. "Somewhere in the house, I think. Oh, no." The last comment was presumably caused by the big drop of ink that had fallen from her pen and stained her dress.
"What are you doing?" said Curufin.
"Trying to learn to write with my left hand," said Erwen.
"Why on earth would you do that?" said Celegorm.
"Well, since I'm apparently not allowed to, I quote, 'sneak around and steal papers', I had to find something to do," said Erwen. "I thought about setting up a loom but then I realized there was probably nothing to weave and you would somehow deduce that my setting up a loom proved I was a spy for some dark and mysterious power -"
"You know," said Caranthir, "I always wondered what it would be like to have a sister, but now I'm rather glad I didn't have one."
Maglor let out a relieved sigh as he set foot on Tol Erëssea for the first time in his life. Then he realized that this might be a slightly suspicious thing to do. Then he realized that most likely no one had noticed. Still, he made a mental note to avoid anything that could raise suspicion, including being overly careful not to do anything suspicious. He had already paid the captain - even after Morgoth had robbed it, there had been too much treasure at Formenos to bring with them to Middle Earth - and now all he had to do was to find Elrond's house. Of course, the easiest way would be to ask someone.
As Maglor walked through the little town that had grown up around the harbour, he looked around for someone to ask, while at the same time trying not to look as if he was looking for someone. He turned around a corner and spotted a young elf-maid, hardly more than a girl, slim and dark-haired. Perfect. She could not possibly have met him before.
"Excuse me?" said Maglor, in Sindarin.
The girl looked up at him and smiled.
"Yes?"
"Could you please tell me where Elrond Halfelven lives?"
"Not in this town," said the girl, staring at him in wonder. "You can't hope to reach his house today."
"Nevertheless, perhaps you could describe the way for me?" said Maglor.
"Of course," said the girl, and launched into a long desciption of the road to Elrond's house, before finishing with "but as I said, it is a long way, almost a full day's walk; wouldn't you rather stay here tonight?"
"I like walking under the stars," said Maglor lightly. "I could cover a bit of the distance today, at least."
"Well, if you change your mind, my parents run an inn," said the girl. "The Silver Tree. It's next to the harbour."
Maglor thanked her, without saying that the last thing he wanted was to go to an inn presumably filled with Telerin sailors. He would much prefer a lonely walk in the starlight. He was good at walking.
"Admit it," said Amrod, "they are rather tasty."
"Fine," said Erwen, "they are, and the next time you tell me something is edible I will not question your sanity. But I will still let you try it first, just in case."
"Pass me the water," said Maedhros.
Nobody commented on the empty plate. Fëanor had evidently decided to stay and work on his mysterious project instead of eating, which made everyone around the table somewhat uneasy. When Fëanor got obsessed with something, anything could happen. The problem was that he was also about as easily stopped as a massive train, travelling at a sizeable fraction of the speed of light, fueled by sheer determination. All they could do was hope that this wouldn't end in mass destruction.
"AH-HA!"
Everyone looked up. That was Fëanor's voice. It was perfectly audible, even though its owner was still in the forge.
"Fetch me an onion!" shouted Fëanor.
"An onion?" said Caranthir. "Is he mad?"
Amras shrugged.
"I say we go along with it," he said. "Until he starts setting things on fire."
Maedhros rose.
"Right," he said. "I'll go and look for an onion.
