The Silmarillion and all associated names are (c) Tolkien. No infringement intended.
The upload played some monkey business with the formatting, but I think I fixed it as much as possible.
As Calmëa and Lelyavalin re-entered the city, Calmëa was struck first by the smell. Before, it had been blown away by the wind, but now that they were sheltered she could smell the smoke of the quenched fires, among other stenches that she couldn't identify.
Everywhere was dark. The lamps had gone out, quenched by the rain or smashed on the street. A couple of times Calmëa trod on something that crunched.
"Take care," said Lelyavalin softly. "Some of the pieces on the road are sharp."
Calmëa nodded, but it made little difference; she could barely see where she was putting her feet.
It was silent, too. Every now and then she heard voices from inside one of the buildings: the wail of a child, a cry of pain or someone sobbing softly. She tried not to listen; the sounds made tears prick in her eyes and bile rise in her throat. A chill went down her spine and she wondered if she was truly cold or if something of the horror of her surroundings was stealing the warmth from her bones.
She glanced at Lelyavalin's expression in the dim light of their little lamp. Lelyavalin was looking straight ahead, her expression set. She never looked aside, no matter what they heard. Calmëa tried to imitate her, but couldn't help glancing this way and that. She wanted to help somehow, but wasn't sure what she could even begin to do. In all likelihood, if faced with the misfortunes of others she would only be reminded of her own…
That thought was enough reminder on its own and she rubbed her eyes as they began to sting once more from more than the fading smoke.
"Calmëa?"
"I'll be all right. Just… I wish I knew what had happened to them."
Lelyavalin slipped an arm around Calmëa's shoulders and embraced her gently. "Tomorrow, when you're rested, we can try to find out. Father will also be seeking word of them. All will be well."
Calmëa sighed. She wasn't sure she believed that, but she did her best to raise her head and not allow her fear to overcome her. Lelyavalin smiled faintly, embraced her once again and then continued to walk.
It seemed to take forever to reach Lelyavalin's home. Everywhere, they were greeted with the same sights and sounds and smells. Once, they crested a small hill and were able to look down towards the Haven. Calmëa stopped then.
Though the fires were quenched, there was still a sullen glow of embers here and there. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat as she saw a particular concentration where she knew her home had once stood. She tore her eyes away and looked to the Havens themselves. They were empty but for a few small dinghies. Every ship was gone, even her father's little fishing boat. She sighed, feeling too worn out to even feel sorrow at that loss. Lelyavalin took her hand and she followed as if in a dream.
At length, they reached Lelyavalin's home. It was surprisingly untouched, lying as it did down a little side street. It was dark and forbidding, though, as the light of Lelyavalin's lamp hit it. Calmea couldn't help a slight shudder. Still, she said nothing as they entered.
"I'll make something to eat," said Lelyavalin, setting the lamp on a ledge over the cold fireplace. "You must be famished."
Calmea sighed. She was hungry, now that she thought about it, but she didn't think she could stomach food. "Thank you, but I'd sooner rest."
Lelyavalin stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "Very well, then. You can have my bed; I'll wait here until Father returns."
"Thank you. If he has news, will you wake me?"
"Of course."
Calmea nodded and went to lie down. She set her pack down by the bed and looked at it for a moment. That was all she had, now. She felt her knees go weak and sat down heavily, burying her face in her hands. Her home was gone. She'd never go there again, never walk through that familiar door… that thought led to the image of her mother patting the doorpost as she left. In hindsight, it looked like a farewell and she wondered if her mother had known this might happen.
She was too tired to wonder about it any more, though. She felt like she'd been soaked through and wrung out, like a dishcloth. With a sigh, she let herself topple sideways and tried to sleep.
Again, it seemed that everywhere she turned she saw nothing but blood and smoke and death. She saw her home burning, heard the cries of frightened children from somewhere nearby, but when she looked she couldn't find them. She kept thinking she saw familiar faces out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned there were only wraiths in the smoke, faces and forms made of nothing but wind and flame.
Suddenly it seemed that she saw Folima beyond a wall of flame. He was calling to her, holding out his hands to beckon her. She ran towards him, thinking nothing of the fire until she reached it. Then, even as the flames licked her skin, she remembered what he had done. Why she no longer wished to marry him.
In the same instant, she realised that the fire wasn't burning her.
She woke with a gasp, throwing off the blanket that someone had laid over her. It took her a moment to catch her breath; it seemed hard to breathe. She wanted to cry, but still felt that she'd cried too much. There didn't seem a single tear left in her. She was a rag wrung dry.
She rolled onto her back and stared into the darkness, letting her breathing steady itself. She couldn't just lie here and try to cry. She had to do something. Anything.
Finally, she felt able to breathe and took a long, deep breath. The smell of smoke almost set her coughing. It was in her clothes and hair, in the air of the room… she let the breath out again in a sigh and took another, slightly shallower. She had to do something.
The dream came back to her for a moment and she saw again Folima's face in her mind's eye. She rubbed her eyes and winced as they felt gritty under her fingers. If he called to her, would she run to him as she had in that dream?
She longed to see him again. Until she thought about it, she'd not realised how much. The anger had passed and she wanted to see him again, to embrace him. She thought of all the joy they'd had together… but no matter how much she longed for him, she knew she could never forget what he had done. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes again. She had no choice. No matter how much she might still love him, his hands would always be stained with blood.
Besides, he was doubtless long gone, leaving her to the ruins of her home. Even had she thought she had a choice, she could never act on it now.
She sat up, trying to dismiss the thoughts. The sudden movement made her head swim for a moment and she wondered how long she'd been asleep.
She felt her way to the door back into the main room. That too was dark, though she could see the faint glow of the lamp. It looked almost burned out.
When she refilled it, its growing light fell on Lelyavalin's face. She had fallen asleep curled up on a chair by the fireplace. Calmëa sighed. Presumably, her uncle had not yet returned and she sat in the other chair to wait. She didn't think she'd sleep again tonight.
Without the Trees, it was difficult to judge time, but she thought it was some hours before Narhína arrived. He looked startled to see Calmëa sitting awake, waiting for him.
"Have you not slept?" he whispered, glancing at Lelyavalin, who hadn't moved.
Calmëa nodded. "I had bad dreams, though, and couldn't sleep again. Are Alymahtar and Maiwë well?"
"Yes, as far as I know. They've taken Alyamahtar up to Lord Olwë's palace; most of the wounded are there."
If any of her family were alive and hurt, that was where she might find them, then. Her uncle read the look in her eyes and nodded. "I came back to see that you and Lelyavalin were safe, but I can go and ask now that I've seen you." He went over to Lelyavalin and tenderly brushed a hand over her hair. She stirred slightly and then fell still.
"I can go," said Calmëa. "I'll sleep no more tonight, and you must need rest, Uncle."
He sighed and looked for a moment as if he would refuse, but then nodded. "I don't believe there is any more danger in the streets, at least." He shook his head a little, thoughtfully. "Nonetheless, take care." He came over and kissed her cheek, then drew back to look searchingly into her eyes. "Take the lantern, and when you have news, bring it back to us."
"I will," Calmëa promised, taking the lantern from its ledge. "Thank you."
"Good luck," he called after her as she left.
When she got to the palace, Calmëa found that the courtyard at the front was already full of elves. She couldn't see any particular order at first; the crowd milled about here and there, occasional individuals hurrying into the building or off into the streets. She stood in the gateway, looking up at the palace and feeling suddenly nervous. She'd never been so close to it and it looked forbidding, most of the windows dark. They seemed to stare at her like unfriendly eyes and she shuddered, looking back at the elves in the courtyard.
"Excuse me?" said a voice beside her and she startled, looking round to see an older elf-woman looking curiously at her. "You look a little lost. Do you need help?"
Calmëa sighed, rubbing her eyes. "I… I'm looking for news of my family."
"Ah… you lost sight of them during the battle?" The woman's voice was remarkably steady and she brushed a strand of dark hair back from her face as she spoke.
"Yes. My father stayed with our ship and we lost my brother in the crowd and my mother went to look for him…"
"Hush, calm down, it's all right. You'll find them." The woman put an arm around Calmëa's shoulders and hugged her gently. "You see over there?" She pointed at where a handful of elves was gathered by one of the walls. As Calmëa looked, one elf turned away with his face buried in his hands, apparently weeping. She nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak.
"There are lists there of all whose whereabouts we know. If anyone's found your family or they've come here looking for you, someone will be able to tell you so."
Calmëa nodded again. "Thank you."
The woman squeezed her shoulder encouragingly and walked away, heading for another young elf who had just arrived.
Calmëa hurried over to the wall, pushing past other elves as politely as she could. There were several large slates nailed up there with names on and she started reading. She noticed that there were labels next to the names, telling where the elves in question were. A distressing number were dead and that fact made her read more slowly, her heart in her mouth. Surely they were all right. Surely all her fears were in vain.
She almost startled as she saw Alyamahtar's name, but he was apparently still alive and she read on with silent thanks for that.
At last, she read 'Silmë, son of Aquildë'. Her hand shook as she looked for the label, then she had to lean on the wall for a moment as her knees went weak with relief. He was alive. Injured, but alive.
She stepped away to let someone else look and rubbed her eyes, wondering if there was anywhere she could sit down. She decided to find him first, though. She'd sit then.
She went into the palace, no longer caring for the frowning windows. The corridors were a maze of pearly stone, but those she met were able to direct her to one of the rooms.
Once again, she hesitated in the doorway. There were four pallets in the relatively small room, but only two were occupied. Calmëa's eyes were immediately drawn to the one on her left.
Silmë was lying on his back, his face half covered with bandages. Calmëa felt a sick feeling start in her gut as she looked at him. she was struck by a sudden urge to never see what was underneath those bandages. She couldn't help looking at his eyes. They were closed and the sight made her feel even sicker. She didn't think she'd ever seen him lying like that, and he was so pale that the pillow by his cheek looked grey. She suddenly wondered if he was even still alive.
As she dithered in the doorway, though, the other elf stirred and looked round.
"H-hello?" he said weakly.
Calmëa swallowed hard. "Sorry to disturb you." She took a hesitant step into the room. "This is my brother." She gestured towards Silmë.
The elf nodded, pushing himself up on an elbow, wincing. "He woke a little while ago. You're Calmëa?"
She blinked. "Yes, I am."
"He asked if anything had been seen of you."
Calmëa sighed and finally went to Silmë's side. He didn't stir at first, and when she touched his brow its chill made her shiver. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other elf lie back down. He moaned faintly as he tried to find a comfortable position.
"Do your family know where you are?" she asked, glancing at him.
He nodded. "But they're still searching for my elder brother. I'm safe enough here while they find him."
She bit her lip, nodding, and hesitantly reached out to touch Silmë's face again. This time, he winced. She flinched, wondering if she was hurting him.
"Silmë?"
At that, his eyes slowly opened. For a moment he stared at her as if he didn't recognise her, but when she said his name again he blinked and his gaze seemed to clear.
"Calmëa…"
She grinned, feeling tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "Oh, Silmë, I've found you at last!"
