Chapter 12-Sanya
YT 1450
Finarfin stood in the crowded Great Square of Tirion, features full of curiosity. The blond elf, along with all the other Noldor, had received a summons by Finwë to witness Fëanáro's master creation. There had been rumors of some project his brother had toiled in the darkest of nights and the brightest of days. His brother's actions were secretive and obsessive and Finarfin could not help but wonder if it had something to do with the strands of his daughter's hair, though Alatáriel had warned Fëanáro and his kin to desist in their attempts to secure a few strands of hair.
His brother had been persistent in trying to acquire the unique gold and silver tresses upon the lady's head. His attempts were in vain, for Alatáriel would not part with one strand, for she saw a darkness in her uncle that she loathed. She would not suffer to hear him speak or come near her, for she was quick to remember and slow to forgive and the assault upon Feangol was never far from her mind.
In spite of his failure to collect the strands of his daughter's hair, Finarfin suspected his brother had succeeded anyway. The great smith's skill, despite his quick and fiery temper, was beyond any other elf in Valinor. That he had forged something masterful was not surprising. I only wonder what it is he's created that requires everyone to be present?
"Grandfather!"
Finarfin turned at the sound of a boy's voice, a smile lighting his handsome face as a blond haired young elf raced towards him, his sapphire eyes bright with joy. The boy nearly barreled into the larger elf, wrapping his small arms around the Noldor King's waist, hugging Finarfin with surprising strength for one so young.
"Sanaro!" Finarfin replied, hugging the boy in return as he looked down to study his grandson. "You've grown taller since I last saw you."
"You saw me last week, grandfather!" Sanaro replied, chuckling at Finarfin's silly statement.
The adult elf let out a small chuckle of his own, ruffling the boy's long blond hair. "So I did. Now where are your parents?"
"Right here, father." Alatáriel said softly, her lithe form graceful in it's movements as she strolled forward, coming to stand beside Finarfin, her husband Feangol close behind.
Sanaro loosened his hold, going over to his mother who looked down at him, voice soft but firm. "Sanaro, you must not run off like that. You could have gotten hurt."
The boy's brow furrowed, features confused. "But I'm always careful, mother. Father taught me how to move when running to avoid any danger."
Alatáriel quirked an eyebrow, turning her gaze over to Feangol who gave her a placating look. "He has so much energy I thought learning how to run would help calm him down."
The lady's features relaxed a bit as she returned her attention to her only child. "Well, you must remember to slow down when in a crowd so as to not run into anyone and injure them, or yourself."
"Yes, mother." The boy replied, moving to stand between his parents.
Alatáriel looked over to her father, addressing him in a more serious voice. "So my uncle has finished his project and now seeks to prove to the world his mastery of craft by proclaiming it before the whole city. His pride knows no bounds it seems."
There was a contemptuous tone in her words that made the blond Noldor King study his daughter with troubled eyes. It seems the feud between them will never cease. " Regardless of his pride, his creation, whatever it may be, must be very special to call all the Noldor to gather in the Great Square." He answered, his eyes shifting to hover near Galathilion as a trumpet sounded, drawing everyone's attention.
The crowd parted, revealing the regal form of Finwë as he led a small procession forward, voice loud and clear as he shouted, "Today we are gathered here to witness the pinnacle of Noldor craftsmanship!" He paused, standing aside to allow Fëanáro to step before everyone.
The dark haired master smith held within his hands a covered box and with a careful motion he reached out and pulled off the purple fabric, revealing a glass case. Yet it was not the box itself that drew a collective gasp from the crowd. For within the glass box, three spheres of light burned brightly, full of life as they flickered in a constant burst. The power was palpable, filling the crowd with awe at the beauty and splendor before them and they stood transfixed as Fëanáro spoke.
"I have harnessed the very light of the Two Trees, filling them within the silma casing of my own design, hence I name them Silmarilli and they shall prove the glory of my house. None shall be able to replicate it's beauty, for I have poured all my heart and soul into crafting these jewels. The Valar themselves must take notice of the Noldor's place above all others in Valinor!"
Olórin's features grew tight. To invoke the attention of the Valar in the name of the smith's foolish pride spoke of an arrogance unrivaled by any other elf. That the Maia had heard the voice of Varda hallowing the Silmarilli came to no surprise. For despite Olórin's feelings towards Fëanáro, what the Noldor craftsman had accomplished was indeed miraculous and awe inspiring. Aulë himself most likely could not even duplicate the wonder of the jewels held in the smith's hands.
That was the problem. This rare set of jewels would be sought after by many. The Maia could already sense the desire and the jealousy among a great many elves. No good will come from this. He thought, blinking as he felt a tug on his hand and he looked down as Sanaro asked,
"Who is that, father?"
Olórin followed the boy's motion as he pointed to his left and at first he thought his son was singling out Fëanáro and he replied, "That is your great uncle, Fëanáro."
"I know who his is, father. I mean the tall, dark presence behind him."
The Maia frowned, moving a bit, his blue eyes widening at the sight as he murmured, "Melkor..."
The Vala had heard the summons as well, dark eyes and dark air surrounding him as he stood unseen by the elves. His gaze was fixated on the jewels, a fire sparking in his heart, for he desired to possess the beautiful Silmarilli. I must have those jewels! His mind repeated like a mantra, already plotting new methods to sow discord between the Noldor, a crafty smile upon his lips.
Olórin's gaze shifted around the crowd. No one can see him. No one but Lóron and I.
"Mel..kor? Who is that, father?"
"One of the Valar. Someone we do not want to cast his gaze upon us. For it will mean trouble."
The boy tilted his head. "Is that why he feels so foul? Because he wants to cause trouble?"
Olórin studied Lóron in surprise. His son's power had grown quickly for such a young age and the Maia dreaded the time when he could no longer hide what he was. "Yes, Lóron, he is foul and we are to avoid that Vala at all costs." The silver haired elf answered, moving closer to his wife, pulling his son with him, trying to hide from the possibility of the Ainu's gaze falling upon the pair. It would not do to be found out by the dark Vala, for that was how Olórin viewed the mightiest of the Ainur, and he shifted his attention over to Alatáriel, about to say something when he noticed the look of awe and trepidation upon her beautiful face at the sight of the three jewels. Alatáriel? He called out to her in his mind, his features and tone full of concern.
The lady, for her part, studied the glowing jewels, sensing the power of the two trees within the prison of elf-forged crystal stones and she frowned. So that's what you wanted my hair for. Alatáriel heard her beloved's voice in her mind and she turned her head, looking over at him. "I'm fine Feangol," She answered verbally. "Just surprised. I can't believe my uncle managed to capture the light of Telperion and Laurelin. He may be an arrogant elf but one cannot deny his skill and gift of crafting."
Olórin listened to her words, finding it similar to his own thoughts and the Maia nodded. "True. But there will be trouble over these jewels. Already there are those seeking to possess the Silmarilli." He commented, casting a sidelong glance towards Fëanáro, worry and relief filling him when he could no longer see or sense Melkor. He felt Lóron tug at his hand again and he looked down. "What is it, son?"
"The stones are singing, Father, can you hear them?"
The Maia smiled, crouching down to talk to his son in a very soft voice. "Yes, Lóron. I hear their voices but do you understand what they are singing?"
The boy tilted his head, concentrating. "Power... joy.. but... there is sadness as well," He paused, features puzzled. "Why is the light sad?"
"Because it is imprisoned in stones made by elvish hands." Olórin answered then added, features and voice serious. "Do not tell anyone of this ability, Lóron. They cannot hear as we do so they will not understand."
"Why not, father?" Lóron asked. "Why is it wrong to be able to hear the voices of the light?"
The Maia struggled with how to explain without revealing the truth of what he was. "Because you are special, Lóron. Because there will be those in the city who will hate you for having what they do not."
The young elf frowned. "But are we not elves?"
"We are. But we are also a bit different."
"How?"
Olórin sighed inwardly, sending a prayer to Nienna for teaching him patience. "Because we can sense and hear things that others cannot, we can understand more of the way of the world then other elves. This is a special gift granted to us by Eru. You must remain aware of it but you must not boast of it, where pride goes, so to will we fall. I do not want you hurt or ostracized for your gift. Do you understand, my son?"
"I think so," The boy answered, looking over at his mother who had moved some distance away, talking in soft tones with Finarfin. "Does mother have the same ability?"
The Maia looked over at his wife, his features growing more tender. "Her power is of the mind, Lóron. She carries within her the brightest light of the Eldar. Her gifts are ones of insight and strength. Your mother is more powerful than most elves in Arda. It is from her you are gifted with greater perception than most," He paused, looking back towards his son, resolve in his features as he added, "When you are older, I will explain and teach you other skills that you alone will be able to master. But for now, we should return home. Your lessons with Mórowen in mastering Quenya have yet to be completed.
Lóron found the prospect of writing several pages of sentences and reciting them boring. He wanted to continue listening to the light sing and to hear the other voices that surrounded him. "Do I have to?"
"I'm afraid you must," The Maia answered, rising to his full height once more. "But once you've mastered the last lessons, you will be able to chose your own name."
"But I already have a name I've chosen."
"Oh?" Olórin said, quirking an eyebrow as he asked, "What have you chosen, Lóron?"
"I want to be called Elendur!" He said, beaming up proudly at his father.
Olórin smiled. "And what does Elendur mean, Lóron?"
"It means servant of stars," He replied, still grinning ear to ear. "I chose it because I love the stars so much I watch them for hours, listening to their gentle voices sing in the night air when I should be in bed," His smile fell, eyes widening as he covered his mouth partly, murmuring. "Ooh... shouldn't have said that..."
But the Maia chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his son's hair. "It is alright, Lóron. We shall have to announce your Esseclime soon if that is your final decision for your chosen name," He took the boy's hand gently into his own. "Shall we tell your mother of this news?"
"Okay!" Lóron exclaimed, flashing a happy smile at his father. "Maybe grandfather, too?"
"Of course." Olórin replied, leading his son over to where Alatáriel stood with Finarfin.
The lady sensed the pair approach and turned to them, her eyes alight as she listened to her son tell him of his chosen name, Finarfin approving as he hugged his grandson. The four of them departed from the square, weaving through the excited crowd, heading towards their perspective homes.
Silver light faded, giving way to darkness, the stars alone lighting the sky. All of Tirion lay quiet, content to sleep yet Olórin remained awake in bed, his wife snuggled against him, her head upon his shoulder. The Maia felt Alatáriel shift and he looked over to her, watching as his lady raised her head, crooking her arm to rest her chin in her palm, her voice soft as she asked,
"What troubles you, Feangol?"
The Maia turned his gaze upon the ceiling, voicing the worry in his heart. "The Silmarilli," He replied in the dark. "It doesn't seem right, trapping the light as Fëanáro did. The power harnessed will cause envy, jealousy, and greed. There was a dark fire in your uncle's eyes as he held up those jewels and I know you saw it as well."
The lady studied her husband fondly. As her powers had grown, Alatáriel could see more and more of Feangol's soul, spellbound by the blinding light that radiated from within. She could sense his greatness and his beauty, finding it well beyond that of all the Eldar she knew. Pride filled her in the knowledge that he was unique, that he loved and chose her as his. And he is mine. Her love remained strong, fierce in it's loyalty and protectiveness. For despite all the power that Feangol possessed, he remained a gentle and caring elf. Those things were precious to her. He was precious to her. She could not bear to see him in pain or troubled and Alatáriel reached out with her left hand, tracing the contours of his jawline, her eyes alight with desire, voice becoming husky as she spoke. "Do not concern yourself with my uncle's behavior or mood. It has little to do with us."
He shifted his gaze at her touch, spying the need and desire in his wife's eyes, his body responding. The fire of passion they had for one another remained bright and heated, rekindled every night since their marriage. It's a surprise we only have one child from our nightly unions. He thought as he murmured, "You think I worry too much?"
"It's part of who you are," His lady replied. "So I accept you as you are. But still, you worry just the same."
He laughed softly, taking her left hand in his, gently bringing it to his lips, kissing her fingertips, his voice lowered, thick with want as he eyed her heatedly, "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps... there are other things to occupy my mind..."
Alatáriel's eyelids fluttered at the kisses to her fingertips, her body aching for his touch, shivering in delight as he rolled, resting on top of her, their kisses tender at first, growing more demanding as the explored one another, never growing tired of their intimate dance as they became one, lost in their need and love for each other, their spiritual connection amplifying the sensations, their release long and intense as they cried out their joy and pleasure, holding each other as they slowed and grew still, falling asleep as the light of Laurelin wrested control from the dark once more.
YT 1476
A black mist surrounded him, blinding his sight and senses. Where he was at first, Olórin knew not but the mist was evil and had to be defeated. He heard Haldanar crying to be released and so the Maia gripped the hilt, drawing the holy sword out, shouting in elvish with all the power he had, slamming the blade straight down, stabbing the ground, a wave of light so intense it swept through the mist, obliterating it, revealing a giant in black armor and a creature that walked upon eight legs, the giant pierced the two trees, their screams dropping the Maia to his knees as the creature stuck it's fangs into the trunks, sucking out the light, darkness falling upon the realm and he screamed out, "Nooooo!"
"Noooo!" Olórin cried out, bolting upright. His breathing was labored, eyes darting about as his vision cleared. Recognition filling him as his gaze focused on the jeweled murals, the soft sounds of his wife's breathing steadying his nerves. I'm in my room. He reached over, gently brushing at the strands of his Melda Heri's hair, finding her beauty captivating even as he still felt a bit of fear at his dream. The Maia frowned, pulling back, reaching up to wipe at the sweat upon his brow then tossed the blankets to the side, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed, rising and walked over to the blue robe laying over a nearby chair. He slipped it on, making his way out to the open balcony, the night air cooling his heated skin.
He reached out, resting his palms against the railing, leaning forward, even as his gaze lifted to study the sky, brow furrowed at his latest nightmare. The vision that had brought him here, had sought to make him an elf had changed, becoming more violent and confusing. What is this black mist? Who is the armored giant in black? Where did that hideous creature come from? These questions now plagued him and he wondered if they were really visions or just simple nightmares. But if it was just a nightmare, why did it seem so real? Despite his doubts of the validity of these new visions or nightmares, one thing was certain. The Two Trees were in danger. They would need to be guarded and protected from whatever planned to attack it. But how do I prove the danger is real?
He sensed another presence and he looked down, his eyes falling upon the form of Elendur sitting beneath a willow in the back courtyard and his brow furrowed, wondering if the boy was also suffering from nightmares. Turning, the Maia walked into his room, changing into a gray shirt, tunic, breeches, and boots and headed down the crystal stairway and out into the back courtyard, heading with a grace only elves possessed, coming to stand to the boy's left. "The stars are beautiful tonight, are they not Elendur?" He called out softly, coming to sit beside his son.
The blond elf nodded, voice reverent as he looked into the sky. "The stars call to me, yet I still do not know why. Do you know the reason, father?" He asked, looking over to the silver haired elf.
Olórin studied Elendur for a moment. His son was 17 in elf years, nearly a full adult, and the Maia saw much of his true form in the boy's features. Soon I will have to tell him of the truth of what power runs in his veins. But how would the boy take it? Would he be understanding or angry? How do I handle this? He wondered as he answered his son's question. "Your love of the stars comes from your mother," He began. "All elves are drawn to it's silver light because Varda created the stars for the elves to guide them and to give them light in a world of darkness."
"Do you not also love the stars?" Elendur asked, studying his father with curious eyes. For some time now, the blond elf had sensed a growing power within his own soul, his ability to see others light revealing the nature of who they were. His father was similar yet... different than the elves. Stronger, more powerful, more bright than even his mother's soul. Instinctively, Elendur knew this was what his father had meant all those years ago about being unique. But what did it all mean?
"I do love them," Olórin answered truthfully. "But I also love the light of the Two Trees. I have always been drawn to their brightness and warmth."
Elendur tilted his head at his father's answer. The older elf was always the one with all the answers and he had asked his mother on more than one occasion about his father and she would always smile and tell him that his father, even at a young age, seemed well versed in how the world worked, well beyond what he should be able to understand, and this made the blond elf even more curious. "Mother said you would often sing of the stars and of the sea to her when you were children. Do you still sing, father?"
The Maia blinked at the change of subject but nodded, smiling. "Oh yes," He answered with a soft chuckle. "I still sing to your mother. She has always loved my songs and my voice. The Teleri are gifted in the ways of song and of music."
Elendur, of course, knew that his father was a Telerin, but he had heard little of their culture besides fishing, sailing, and singing and a sudden thought occurred to him. "Is that why some of the Noldor believe the Teleri to be weak?" He asked. "Because they are content to sing and to swim, not using their gifts to improve themselves like the Noldor do?"
A frown marred Olórin's handsome features. "Who told you the Teleri are weak?"
Elendur blinked, surprised at the gruff tone in his father's voice. It was unusual for him to show any darker emotion and the boy lowered his gaze. "They do not say it to my face, but I have heard it in their minds that they think the Teleri are weak. They think that you are not as strong as a Noldor."
Understanding crossed the Maia's features. So my son is upset at how the Noldor view me. Normally, Olórin cared little what others thought of him. But I will not have my son believing that he is unworthy simply because of what many believe me to be. "What do you think is the truth, Elendur?" He asked, watching as his son thought out the right answer.
"I know they are wrong. I see the truth of your power. Your soul glows brighter than any elf in the city. If you wanted to, you could defeat or overpower every Noldor here."
Olórin was not surprised by his son's response, for the power that flowed in the boy's veins was the same as the Maia's and so he decided to test Elendur, asking, "Yet I do not assert my power. Do you know why that is?"
Elendur studied his father, brow furrowed as he tried to reason out what the silver haired elf was asking. "Because it is not in your nature?"
"That is part of it, yes," Olórin admitted. "But there is another reason I do not abuse the power I have. Do you know that reason?"
Understanding lit up the younger elf's face. "Because even if you wanted to, you cannot access that power fully."
"Very good." Olórin said, favoring his son with a smile, impressed at his logical conclusion.
"Even so, you still have more power than any elf in existence." Elendur said softly, feeling he was close to the one answer that had eluded him.
The Maia did not respond for a few moments, wondering what to say surprised by himself as he spoke suddenly. "As do you, my son. The same light you see reflected in my soul is visible in yours but other cannot see it clearly or completely."
Elendur was confused. "Why is that? We are elves, are we not?"
Olórin knew this day would come and he knew his son had a right to the truth. "Yes. But you are more than just a simple elf, Elendur. Do you remember your lessons on the Valar?"
"Yes." Elendur said with a nod. "They are powerful beings that carry out Eru's will. They created the land of Arda with the power of song. They often mingle unseen among the Eldar."
"Elves cannot see the Valar when they wish to be unseen. But other Valar and.. Maiar can."
"Maiar... are servants or pupils of the Valar..." Elendur murmured, eyes widening as he realized what his father was trying to tell him. "That means you are..." His voice trailed off as Olórin finished for him.
"A Maia... Yes.. you have the same power as I do, Elendur. That is why you can see what cannot be seen with elvish eyes. Why Melkor was visible all those years ago. Why you can sense the truth of what he is. It is why you can hear the wind cry and the stars sing. Why all manner of beasts can talk to you and you can talk to them. Why you, if you focused your power, could make water rise and fall, make wind roar or go still.. make fire appear from the dark... and call forth storms or silence their power if you so desired."
"But I thought.. that none of the higher beings could have children..."
"The Valar cannot but the Maiar can," Olórin answered. "The One made it this way because we can become incarnate, in doing so, we become physically capable of producing children."
It was a lot to take in but it made sense to Elendur, given his abilities and his strength. He looked at his father in sudden concern. "Does mother know of this?"
Regret filled Olórin's features as he shook his head. "I've never told her."
"But... why? You two love each other do you not?"
"Of course I love your mother and she loves me. We cannot bear to be apart from the other."
"Then why are you afraid to tell her? Does she not deserve to know the truth?"
The Maia rubbed his brow. "It's.. a complex thing to explain. I have chosen an elvish life. In doing so, my power is diminished. I knew what would happen to me and my abilities yet I still chose to become incarnate because I loved your mother before I even knew her and because there is something I must try to prevent."
"Prevent?" Elendur murmured, looking at his father in confusion.
Olórin looked up at the sky, voice and features grim. "I was plagued by a vision long ago and because of this vision I prayed for and was granted a elvish body and an elvish life. Your mother was in that vision, the only light in the darkness that pressed down around me. In this vision we were attacked by a massive creature and the light died in the two trees. This vision had continued to plague me from time to time. Only now it's changing, becoming more violent and more persistent. I believe it is a warning of what is to come."
"If this is true, you must warn the people here," Elendur said, sensing the truth in his father's words as he rose to his feet. "We should tell great-grandfather and grandfather of these visions."
Olórin shook his head. "They will not listen. Finwë is too preoccupied trying to keep Fëanáro in check while the city festers with discontent. Finarfin will listen but there is little he can do."
"But... what about the Valar? Why don't they help?"
"There are those who understand that Melkor, the dark Vala as we both call him, is up to something but Manwë will not listen. Melkor has not engaged in anything that would prove he alone is responsible for the dark thoughts and feelings."
"But, can they not see what is going on in our city? Do they not care? Mother forbids me from even going to the Western side of Tirion unless it's with a full escort. Many of the elves carry shields with odd symbols forged upon the metal faces. Even Grandfather had fashioned such metal and his supporters carry them about. I feel a great unease, father. If what you say is true, then why not try to change it?"
The fire of youth shone in Elendur's eyes, his words full of emotion that Olórin had long since tried to keep suppressed. "I have spoken of this before with the Valar, themselves, Elendur. I cannot sway Manwë, for Melkor is his brother and until he does something to warrant arrest, the dark Vala is allowed to roam freely."
"But you know the truth, father. If you know this darkness is coming, you must stop it. You must save the elves before they do something stupid."
Olórin studied his son with saddened eyes. "If I try to interfere, they will label me a traitor or spy for the Valar. It will draw Melkor's attention onto us. He will know what we are, Elendur. Your mother and her family will be in danger. I cannot allow her to be harmed, nor you," He paused, voice soft. "But I can travel to Valmar. I can speak with Arien who tends Laurelin and Tilion who spends much of his time near Telperion to see if they are willing to guard the trees. Perhaps I can convince Ingwë to post guards in their stead if they will not consent to watch over the trees."
"And what of Melkor?"
The Maia frowned, shaking his head. "I cannot take him on directly, Elendur. Even as a Maia, I would be no match for his strength. It would take the Valar themselves to capture and subdue him. So do not even think of confronting him should you see him again. For your death would break my heart and your mother would not forgive me."
Elendur growled in frustration. "I do not like this. I do not like this feeling of helplessness."
"So do all who know the truth of things but can do little but carry the burdens upon their own shoulders."
The blond elf murmured. "I understand your reasoning, father, I just don't agree with it," He turned his gaze up at the sky. "You should tell mother soon, of the truth. That is, if she doesn't know already."
Olórin allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. "I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't at least suspect the truth of where my power comes from. But yes... soon, I shall tell her." He rose, stretching as he spoke. "Now then, you should head to bed for some rest. You will need it where we are going."
"And where is that, father?"
The Maia's features grew determined as he replied, "To Valmar, home of the Vanyar, Maiar, and a few Valar as well."
Another chapter completed. Not my most exciting work but it is an update. Next chapter we will have the confrontation between Fëanáro and Aracáno and the subsequent banishment then there will be the darkest of Melkor's deeds, using the spider like creature Ungoliant to darken Valinor and steal the Silmarils. Olórin's part in this will then take place.. and then we will have the flight of the Noldor and the first kinslaying. Thank you to Guest, Noreye92, and Guest for their reviews. You know not how just a few words brings a smile to my face and makes me want to continue writing this story. Onto notes: Sanya means truth in Quenya. Great Square was the central part of the city where the tree Galathilion grew. Sanaro which is the mother name of Olórin and Alatáriel's son it means Thinker/Reflector in Quenya. Lóron is the father name and while it is not derived from Feangol it is a version of the Maia's true name as it means slumber/dream. Elendur means servant of stars and is his chosen name. Esseclime is a ceremony. where an elf reveals his or her chosen name. It literally means name choosing in Quenya. Silma, which is a clear crystal-like casing created by Fëanáro to hold the light of the Two Trees. Silmarilli is the proper Quenya term for Silmarils which means radiance of pure light. Mórowen which means ink girl in Quenya. Arien, who is a Maia and will later guide the sun, which is the last fruit Laurelin produces, and she becomes a spirit of fire. Her name means maiden of sunlight in Quenya. Tilion is also a Maia and a hunter who spent time with Oromë. He loves silver, carrying a silver bow and spent many of his days under the boughs of Telperion. He becomes the guide for the moon, fashioned after the last flower Telperion produces. He greatly loves Arien. His name means the horned in Quenya. Lastly there is the matter of Elendur himself. He was born in YT 1434 and by the end of this chapter he is 17 in elf years, nearing adulthood. As always I request that those who read this story drop a few lines. It helps encourage me to continue on with this story.