9. Finding the Truth

"Aunt Findis?" Mornel paused in mid-step. She was in the shadowy gallery now. Her aunt hastened forward along the gallery. Findis had forgone her wimple at the banquet in favour of going bareheaded, so there was no tell-tale gleam of white to give her away. Mornel hurried after her as fast as her skirts would allow. It was hard not to step on the hem with her sandals. Her quarry hovered ahead in the shadows for a moment before stepping into a pool of moonlight thrown from a small skylight in the vaulted ceiling above them.

Mornel froze. It was not Lady Findis but Lady Anaire who stood before her.

"Greetings, Princess. I do not believe we have been properly introduced," the nis' tone was icy. Mornel shivered. The music and merrymaking below sounded so distant.

"You are my Aunt Anaire, spouse to my uncle, Prince Nolofinwe… Uncle- His Majesty told me of you…" Mornel's eyes darted to the statue in the nook behind her. It depicted Findekano from the waist up as a young bard with harp in hand. On the wall was a tapestry of a dark-haired nis drawing a bow, Irisse. This was a corner of the palace she had not yet ventured to.

"Did he tell you of how my children used to enjoy this festival? Arakano was too young to compete in the Games the last time… Irisse participated in the archery event for the first time… They should have competed today, if it were not for your atar…"

"What can you tell me of my atar? Please?" Mornel ventured in a guarded tone. Part of her wanted to run back to the dancing elves and seek out Amarie, or her uncle. Part of her demanded she stand her ground.

"You know nothing, do you? That's just like Arafinwe," Anaire snorted with disdain. "Surely you know of the Darkening of Valinor and the slaying of your grandfather at Formenos?"

Mornel nodded hesitantly. She knew of the Withering of the Two Trees but no one had told much her of her grandfather's death. She only knew he had died in distant Formenos, and that the northern fortress now stood abandoned by the Eldar.

"Yet you know nothing of the one who sired you, the one who has wrought so much ruin on Valinor…" Anaire cupped the elfling's chin in her hand almost tenderly as a mother would with her child.

"W-What do you mean?" Mornel breathed. Surely this was not some childish prank or careless remark her aunt was referring to. Her tone suggested something far darker.

"Why should I tell you when you can read it for yourself? That door leads to the scriptorium. The scribes were copying a history of the Darkening for King Ingwe's library but they have gone for the banquet. I do not believe they had time to put away the scrolls before then. If you wish to know, go read. Now leave me alone with my children…" Anaire turned away from Mornel to gaze upon the likeness of her son.

With trembling hands, Mornel tried the door. It yielded easily and opened into a narrow room with long work tables and endless scrolls. It smelled of ink and old parchment. Moonlight poured in through large skylights, illuminating the scriptorium with silvery hues. A large scroll was laid out in the central table in a pool of light.

A Historie of the Silmarilli and the Rebellion of the Noldor. The tantalising title leapt out from the vellum. Gingerly, Mornel smoothed out the scroll and read. The words were difficult at first but she soon caught the rhythm of the writing.

Alone, the child read of her father's greatest creations and his growing obsession with the gems. She cried out in dismay at the mention of her father drawing a sword on his own brother. She sobbed when she read of the exile to Formenos and her grandfather's murder there during the Darkening. Her father had selfishly refused to surrender his gems to the Valar but it was for nought. The Black Foe Moringotto had stolen the jewels and borne them over the ice.

Enraged by the death of his father and the theft of his prized jewels, Feanaro and his sons had gathered and sworn a terrible oath to reclaim their Silmarilli or be condemned to the eternal Darkness.

Her mind reeling, the elfling stopped reading.

How could her atto, great as he is, hope to prevail against a Vala, especially one who had hoodwinked the rest of the Valar long enough to sow discord and slay a king under their protection upon their Undying Shores? Perhaps her father was already dead, and her brothers too. Perhaps her uncle, cousins, and aunt, as well as the numerous Noldor who had followed him in his mad quest too. Surely it was madness that drove her atar to defy the wisdom and law of the Valar.

There were more runes on the scroll but she could not bring herself to continue. The words of the Oath chased each other in her mind like gnawing rats. Darkness doom us if our deed faileth… Sweet Eru, they had called on not only Lord Manwe and Lady Varda but Iluvatar himself to bear witness to the Oath they swore.

Her cousins, aunt and uncles, the others are to be bound for Lord Namo's Halls to heal should they perish on those dangerous shores. One day they might be freed from the Halls and returned to their families' loving embrace. For her brothers and father, only the darkness of the Void awaited them. Their task was impossible. She shivered and wept. Her poor amme will never see her sons again! She shoved the scroll off the table.

Half-blind with tears, she fled from the room past Anaire, who watched her hasty departure with scant emotion.


Meanwhile, her absence had been noticed in the Grand Hall. Master Rumil searched along the terraces and a frantic Amarie the rose garden below. It was likely the child might have wearied of the revelry and ventured into the gardens. Mornel had learnt to speak with the nightingales recently and would take long strolls by starlight to converse with them. Somewhere in some nook the elfling might be in deep reverie. Various serving elves discreetly peered behind the draperies or under the tablecloths. As an elfling, Arafinwe once sought refuge under a table after being bullied by his eldest brother.

Lady Indis fanned herself as she moved from noble to noble in idle chit-chat. She was immensely uneasy. No one had thought to inform the Noldoran of his missing niece yet as he was busy with his Vanyarin guests. Amarie's parents had been pushing him to have her betrothal to Findarato dissolved, despite Amarie's staunch declaration of her undying love for Findarato. Eldalote had volunteered to search the many corridors leading from the hall. It was possible the child might have wandered off.

Mornel wasn't really thinking as she sprinted along the corridor. All she knew was that she had to get back to the lights and music of the festival, away from the horrible room where she had learned so much of her atto's actions. The stairs were before her now, steep and sweeping down into the hall below. She was so close…

Her sandal caught on the hem of her skirts. For a moment she teetered at the very edge of the top step before she tumbled headlong down the stairs in a tangle of limbs and skirts. She barely had time to cry out before her head crashed into the marble step and she blacked out.

The commotion drew everyone's attention to the gallery stairs. The little elfling was sprawled at the foot of the stairs in a boneless heap. "Mornel!" Arafinwe shouted. "Get healers!" Indis cried out. Master Rumil hastened to obey. Arafinwe tried to scoop his niece into his arms but his sister stopped him.

"No, don't touch her yet," Findis warned. She had trained as a healer in Valmar since before the Darkening. Careless movement could do the patient further harm. She did not like the way Mornel's left leg was oddly twisted. Blood was flowing from a deep gash on her head. Her eyes were closed. Gingerly, she bent over the motionless child. Mornel was breathing, but very shallowly, and her pulse was faltering. Amarie had arrived from the rose garden and was looking on in horror, barely held upright by her cousin and Eldalote. Above the now hushed hall, Anaire peered from the gallery, her face an expressionless mask.

The whispers started as soon as the healers carefully laid their patient on a stretcher. An omen, it was the Valar cursing the House of Feanaro… No, it is a sign that a child of his has no place in the city… Perhaps she would go join her grandmother in Mandos. Had not Miriel died of her own will, shedding her hroa? Had not Finwe been the first elf slain in Valinor? Perhaps the Valar had turned their backs on the Noldor for their sins. The royal family hurried after their stricken member as soon as the Noldoran made his apologies. The banquet was over.


"She dislocated her right shoulder and broke both bones in her left forearm. She broke her left leg in two places and might have a concussion. Her neck and spine are intact, fortunately…" the chief healer surmised. They had set the bones and stitched up the head wound. A brace would help her shoulder realign after they had forced it back into its socket. It was fortunate that she was out of it during the operation or it would have been immensely painful.

"Why does she not wake?" the king demanded. He had spent the night in the Halls of Healing with Amarie as the healers did their work. Indis came earlier to coax Amarie to leave with her. The poor nis was distraught with guilt over Mornel's accident. I should have watched her more closely, the Vanya maiden insisted even as Findis urged a calming tisane on her.

"Sire, we do not know… perhaps the shock in one so young… She was born during the Darkening…" the flustered elf replied. He did not understand why his patient had not recovered her senses. They dared not give her any opiates during the process of setting the bones due to the concussion. When Prince Tyelkormo knocked himself out after being thrown from the saddle, he had regained his senses barely an hour later while they were trying to set his arm, screaming curses and lashing out at the poor healers for their pains. It took two full vials of poppy-milk before he was sedated enough to put a cast on without causing further injury to himself or the healers. The Eldar are very resilient, and more so in Aman. Healing should be swift.

"It would seem her fea has been injured but we have no idea what could have caused this…" Wounds to the fea were rare in Aman and even the experienced healer had never encountered any other such case in his lengthy career save for Queen Miriel who had passed from sheer weariness after an exceedingly difficult quickening and birth.

"Can she be moved?" Arafinwe asked. "Perhaps to Lorien…" This should not have happened. She was his ward and she was injured under his roof, in his care. She did not deserve to have this horrid accident happen to her. He did not know how she came to be in the gallery above. Perhaps like all children, she had grown bored of the dancing and set off to explore the palace. It was an accident. Anaire's presence in the gallery was purely chance. As was the fact the scribes found their scrolls on the Darkening and Feanaro's Oath disturbed when they went to fetch them for the Vanyarin envoy. Arafinwe had his suspicions about what could have triggered his niece's coma but he hated to think ill of his own law-sister. Lady Anaire had been both wise and kind before the Darkening. She had overseen the royal scribes and archives to great effect after their most experienced historian Quennar went into Exile with his brothers.

"Her condition is stable but I would advise we give her a few more days to heal. Perhaps she might recover without the need for a journey. Children can be very resilient," the healer suggested. He had not the desire to undertake the strenuous journey with his patient as the Noldoran would surely demand of him.

"We agree," Findis placed her hands on her brother's shoulders. "Come, you must rest. Amme has already sent Amarie to her room with a tisane of chamomile. Now it's your turn to rest."

"I will go pray to Eru for Mornel's recovery," Arafinwe insisted. "She is the last of my father's grandchildren on these shores. We cannot lose her to Mandos…" His niece lay silent and motionless on her cot. He wondered if she were starting to fade. Was such a thing possible for an elfling on the Undying Shores? He did not know for the histories had never spoken of any of the Eldar fading thus, save Miriel.

Author's Notes:

Mornel has had a very nasty shock. She has read about the Oath and events leading up to it, but she has not read about the Kinslaying at Alqualonde yet.