NOTES/DISCLAIMERS: As usual anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien; the rest is my creation. Noldor/Teleri traditions noted are strictly made up; any resemblance to factual customs written by Tolkien is coincidental. Tolkien Gateway and Council of Elrond sites referenced. Lyrics of the following songs adjusted slightly: Beautiful Love—The Afters; Frozen—Madonna. The italicized portion of the story is Amorith/Vanimë's narration. One more chapter left, then perhaps an epilogue. A line borrowed from Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.
The Shadows' Calls
Alqualondë was the birthplace of Olwen. It was the main city of the Teleri. After having reached Valinor, many refused to journey onwards to Aman. The Vala Ulmo, after much persuasion, anchored the island in the bay of Eldamar, where the Teleri lived peacefully for many eons until the First Kinslaying. It was here in Alqualondë that Olwen knew her most happiest and treasured days, before she wedded Caranthir. Likewise, it was here in Alqualondë that the mother of sisters Vanimë and Vanië knew her darkest days. Olwen recalled the first time she had seen Caranthir, standing tall and proud alongside his sire, Fëanor. Their dark hair contrasted greatly against the pale luminescence of the pearl halls of her father's home. They had come seeking purchase of pearls; her sire was the largest supplier of these most precious commodities in Alqualondë. In return, they offered other valuable tokens—opals, diamonds, and emeralds that they had obtained from mining. There was nothing neither too small nor too great in the way of handiwork that escaped Fëanor. He would just as eagerly mine jewels as he would set to fashion a new item of his interest and design. There was no denying the fact that he had earned the title and prestige of being the unsurpassed craftsmen of the Noldo, arguably of all the Eldar. Olwen had a love of emeralds; she spent time arranging them perfectly to her delight in the pools and on the beaches of Elende. So it was no surprise to her that these most noble and princely Noldor were once more present in her father's study, the three men busy negotiating the trading of the prized jewels. She smiled to herself at the sound of her father's voice; he often complained how stingy the Noldor were in payment, yet demanded the highest value and quality gems. She was eavesdropping, and at the sound of footsteps moving closer to the door, she rushed to the staircase, feigning a normal composure. She dared not look back towards the door, for she knew her cover would be given away. She would not be able to maintain a neutral face; something would betray her.
It was not something she could forget, nor did she ever, even to this very moment. The sound of a throat clearing softly followed by a subtle cough alerted her to the presence of one of the male Noldor. Ever so slightly, she turned from her place on the fifth step of the staircase. A flash of a dark blue tunic, in the style of the Noldor, paired with brown leggings and maroon boots, told her it was Caranthir. She pretended not to notice, however, and lifted her skirts up daintily to ascend the tightly spiraling stairs when a melodic voice rose in song. She was hidden from view by a slender pole, and wondered if Caranthir knew she was present. His voice was eerily enchanting, and the words made her anxious, though she did not know why.
"Far away, I feel your beating heart
All alone, beneath the crystal stars
Staring into space, what a lonely face
I will try to find my place with you
What a beautiful smile
Can I stay for awhile
On this beautiful night
We will make everything right
My beautiful love
Larger than the moon, my love for you
Worlds collide, as heaven pulls us through
The secret of the world is written in the stars
I am carrying your heart in mine
What a beautiful smile
Can I stay for awhile
On this beautiful night
We will make everything right
My beautiful love
Maybe a great thing will happen
Maybe all will see
Maybe our love will catch like fire
As it burns through me
What a beautiful smile
Can I stay for awhile
On this beautiful night
We will make everything right
My beautiful love"
Later, Olwen would know that she had been courted by Caranthir, and this song was the first of many he would sing to serenade her, in the traditional manner of Noldor courtship. Their life was blissful then; he would do business alongside his sire, and she would covet the jewels he brought back, adorning their home with it. She no longer dwelled in Alqualondë, but rather in Tirion, the main city of the Noldor. She missed her home for the sea; though Tirion was white-walled as her home was, it had no sea. Yet the bliss turned into dread, for beneath Caranthir's exterior was his wrath and anger she had not seen before. When the first of Melkor's lies seeped into the peace of Valinor, Caranthir stood with his father. His outrage and temper surprised her, and she tried ever more to be kinder to him, gentler and sweeter. At night when he took her, he ravaged her body so that for a few days after she was sore and weak. Both of their daughters, who once could not be separated from their sire, now shrank away from him. Vanimë ever argued with him, but being of like countenance this had no effect on him, but further enraged him. Caranthir no longer cared for his family as he once did, choosing instead to spend more and more time in the poisonous company of Fëanor. As the Shadow of Melkor grew, so did the distance between Caranthir and his family, until the day Olwen found herself back in Alqualondë. It was not as she imagined it, a most joyful occasion and reunion with her own family; rather it was one of dire sorrow as she watched her dear city burn, its inhabitants fleeing from the attacking Noldor, Caranthir included.
Vanimë felt the sting of the sea-water as she was pushed rudely forward by her sire onto the docks. Behind her, her sister wept openly, clinging to her mother's side. Further ahead, nearest to the ships, stood Fëanor. His dark hair blew towards his face, covering his fearsome features, yet his voice, fell and deadly, carried over to them, crying out for vengeance, defying the Valar in such vain pride and arrogance. She glanced back towards the fair city of Alqualondë, towards the direction of her mother's family's house, hoping and praying that they were safe, that no harm had come to them. Another sharp push from her father jolted her out of her prayer, and she threw him a deadly glare, but he did not heed her attention. Instead, he had planted himself beside his wife, who stood immobile on the docks, shaking her head and openly praying against the Noldor.
Vanië followed suit, though as soon as her father approached she ceased her prayers. Caranthir, enraged at his own family's betrayal, reached out a hand, slapping both his wife and younger daughter on their fair faces. He then grabbed them both by their hair and began half-pulling half-dragging them towards the ship from where Fëanor beckoned. But he was not entirely successful, for Olwen had mustered strength enough to remove his hand, and she ran a short distance back before pulling out a slender dagger, holding it at her husband as he advanced towards her.
"You dare to raise a weapon against me?" Caranthir seethed.
"I see no reason not to; since you and your family are Kinslayers, I may as well do the same." she replied back evenly, an unnatural calm and cool about her.
This new tone made Caranthir Fëanorion take notice of his wife. She had never been thus, retorting back and putting up a front. She was defiant now, and he did not need complications.
"Come with me, my wife. I will not lay a hand against you." he said.
"The damage is done. I will not follow you anymore. You have laid many hands against me, for in attacking my city, you have slain my kin. And this I shall not forgive. I am not Noldo, though I wedded you. I did not partake in any Oath; therefore I am not bound to follow. I have loved you even when your mind was taken, even when you assaulted me physically and verbally. Yet here ends our journey together. I only wish I can save you from the future, for I fear for you greatly." the Teleri lady replied. "You recall how you sang to me for the very first time, as is your Noldor tradition of courting? As a Teleri, I am required to lament our parting, for to me it is a death."
Vanimë would never forgot this last time she would see her mother, standing alone on the docks, dagger bared towards her father, silver tears falling down her face as she sang to him:
"You only see what your eyes want to see
How can life be what you want it to be
You are frozen
When your heart is not open
You are so consumed with how much you get
You waste your time with hate and regret
You are broken
When your heart is not open
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, if I could melt your heart
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, we would never be apart
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, give yourself to me
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, you are the key
Now there is no point in placing the blame
And you should know I suffer the same
If I lose you
My heart will be broken
Love is a bird, she needs to fly
Let all the hurt inside of you die
You are frozen
When your heart is not open
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, if I could melt your heart
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, we would never be apart
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, give yourself to me
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, you are the key
You only see what your eyes want to see
How can life be what you want it to be
You are frozen
When your heart is not open
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, if I could melt your heart
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, we would never be apart
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, give yourself to me
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, you are the key
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, if I could melt your heart
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, we would never be apart
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, give yourself to me
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, you are the key
If I could melt your heart"
Caranthir stood rooted to the spot as he watched Olwen back away slowly from him. He felt something change in him, a slight lifting of the darkness that had stolen over him of late. Olwen had been his greatest joy, and he loved her deeply. It broke him that she was deserting him now, but his allegiance to his father was stronger. Just as quickly, his wrath returned, and he cursed at Olwen, at the day she had come into his life. His daughters were Noldor, and they would follow him. Both of them were huddled by their mother, and the trio of females was sobbing quietly, saying their farewells. Caranthir dragged his daughters away amidst their protests, never looking back towards his wife, who stood there on the burning dock, amongst her slain Teleri kin, watching as they boarded the great ship and set sail, leaving the Blessed Realm forever.
This memory from my younger years came back to me as I lay on the leaf-strewn ground of Mirkwood's forest. Of all the memories, this one was buried the deepest, for it held so many feelings for me. Anger, of course, but not mostly at my father; rather it was directed towards my mother. There was no legitimate reason for her to have abandoned my sister and me; she had no excuse. Over the course of the eons I lost my softer side as Amorith became my new life. I had no choice; I had to look after Vanië and she needed someone strong. I lost the things that were the most beautiful about me, that I cherished the most about myself: my love of dance and song, my arbitrary nature, my desire to for travel. I know she left because she could not handle the way my father had become, but what about her daughters? Did she not have an obligation towards us? We were not children, yet we were still young, still easily malleable. We could have succumbed to the malice of the Oath just as easily as my sire and his father did. Nothing was certain then.
It is often looked back upon in the lore of the ancient Eldar that the most evil deed done was the taking of the Oath by the House of Fëanor. I have always regarded another deed, much lesser known and very private, as being of equal rank. My mother's repudiation of my sister and me is also an evil deed. From that we learned how even the supposedly strongest ties of blood and kinship can be severed, something the Elves have ever prided themselves upon. We learned to ever mistrust those we came into contact with. Love was something we did not firmly believe in, and even after Thranduil had professed himself to me in Doriath I was quite skeptical. It took me many years to believe him. So when he cast me out of his realm, the pain was very unbearable. I was wounded for life from Valinor, and my time in Middle-earth increased my suffering.
Now, bleeding to death from my head wound, the memories of my life swirled past me, blending into a kaleidoscopic image that I could not quite recognize anymore. The touch of my alter-self was beginning to feel soothing; the cold was fading away into a numbness I found relieving. I had served my purpose in Mirkwood, my life was complete. With the War ongoing, I had no reason to continue. There was no purpose any longer for me. If Sauron won, we would all be destroyed. If the Fellowship succeeded, the time of the Elves would be over. From the start of the Second Age the Elves were already disillusioned with Middle-earth, spent from the years of the Oath and the war against Morgoth. The Men had slowly risen. But now, if this War was won, there truly would be an end of the Elves' dominion here in this accursed land. Most, if not all, of the remaining edhil (elves) would sail West, leaving this world behind. I wondered how many would miss it, how many would regret not having set sail earlier. Who would not miss it?
As these thoughts slowly died in my mind and the memories faded, I became aware of a strong scent of earth. So, I was finally being buried, being laid to rest in the dirt of Eryn Galen. Would Thranduil consider my grave a desecration to his lands? Would Vanië even know and miss me?
She was found lying on the forest floor, her blood pooled around her. She was face down in the ground, and when turned over, her hands were pressed tightly against her chest, over her heart. There was a look of sadness upon her face, and Míriel's heart broke to see the expression.
"She died alone, in despair." cried the Silvan maiden. "How terrible, how she must have felt!"
The healer who had tended her pushed aside the hysterical maiden, feeling the Noldo's pulse. It was weak, and quite thready. The injury on her head was not deep, but the amount of blood lost was quite alarming. Pursing her lips together, the healer raised a hand to stop the wailing singer.
"She is not dead, yet, but she needs my attention now. Carry her carefully inside to the healing rooms, making sure to support her head and neck. Place immense pressure on the wound here with this gauze. I will need donors for blood." the healer said quietly. "Hold on," she whispered, bending over Vanimë as she was being lifted. "Please, my lady, do not go yet…"
Míriel stood and watched as the princess was taken away inside the palace. She was very devastated at having arrived too late. The healer was wrong, there was no time left. Vanimë was dead; nothing could save her now. It was wrong that she had perished alone, wrong that she had been mistreated by Thranduil. If there was anyone who should not have died alone, it was her. Yet Míriel's tears of despair and regret would not bring Vanimë back. She had called out, and Míriel had heard her, heard her desperate plea for help from her own reverie. Her own maid had held her back, repeating over and over again that Lady Amorith had given her very specific instructions, that war had come. "And what use is it to hide away from death? You cannot defeat death!" Míriel had replied, pushing her aside and unlocking the door, running through the halls. She had no notion of where Amorith was, only followed an intuition. As the maiden ran through the halls, she noticed the grim faces of the people, and the hurrying of guards and soldiers. Had Dol Guldur at last assailed them? Where was Innas in all this?
Something silver glinted in the dirt, and bending down Míriel saw a brooch lying in the dirt. Undoubtedly it belonged to Vanimë, and if she was correct in her assumption the brooch was shaped as a mallorn leaf of the fair Golden Wood that she had dreamed of visiting. But there was no more dreaming now, only praying. Sauron's army was here, and war was the new reality. The maiden clenched her hand holding the brooch into a fist, releasing fresh tears anew.
"What can a poor simplistic maiden like me do in the face of this horror? I have never fought, and even the training I took under Innas' watch to wield a bow was unsuccessful. I am so helpless. I desire greatly to help protect my home, but how?" she cried aloud.
There was a rustle in the leaves, and a figure stepped out. Míriel managed to stifle a scream, for there before her stood Vanimë. Gone was the gash from her head, and the blood. The Noldo held out a hand towards the Silvan maiden, raising her to her feet, saying, "Even the smallest person can change the course of the future."