Some small notes. I am expecting people to know the usual epessë of characters, but I had to make some up. Finno is for Fingon, and Findo is for Finrod. Pretty similar, but it only comes up three times, so it's easy to just remember who says what. Enjoy!
"Are you ready for the grand reveal?" Curvo teased her as they swept through the halls. "We haven't seen father in weeks and his temper has gotten horrible. This project of his must be really stressful."
"Any creation of your father is sure to be amazing." Culwen countered. "I just wish I knew what he has made. He has never been as discrete as this before. It worries me greatly."
Curvo sighed. "I agree. At least it is over now, especially with Melkor around. That Vala will only cause trouble for us."
"Aulё uses stronger words to express that statement when Melkor enters the forge." She reminded her husband. "Even the court of the Valar, who ruled to release him, is mistrustful of his intentions."
"We should not speak of such things around my father." Curvo said as they reached their destination. "He has always been ill-tempered, but not nearly as bad as this. The Ambarussa went to bring him dinner last week and he threw a hammer at them."
"Fёanáro invited us here." Culwen assured him. They slipped into the room. It was strangely dark in the room. All of Curvo's brothers were there, along with their mother and Alatatir. Her sister-in-law and husband both were shivering, seeming to feel a cold that no one else could. "Both seers." She whispered to herself.
Fёanáro rose to his feet, a small wooden box in his hands. "Now that we are all here," He glared at Curvo, who winced, "We can begin. I have created what I believe is my greatest creation."
"Just show us," Nerdanel grumbled, "I was in the middle of a project." Fёanáro glared at his wife, then lifted the lid of the box. Culwen's heart stopped.
Three perfect gems rested inside the box, emanating the gentle light of those ill-fated trees. Their glow seemed unearthly, drawing the gaze of all with an almost hypnotic power. Even Cáno, with his general disinterest in gems, looked in awe at them. "What are they?" He asked.
"These are my greatest creations," Fёanáro announced, "The silmarils."
Culwen, despite herself, looked closer at them. Knowing, as she did, what the silmarils would cause did not decrease her curiosity. They shimmered innocently in the box, seeming like nothing more than jewels. Then, she Saw it, Seeing through the light and beauty to what was beyond, with the one kind of Sight that she did have. Darkness was woven into the very fiber of their creation.
She shivered, taking a step away from the cursed gems. "Fёanáro," Culwen said, slowly, "If you are wise, then you will destroy these now."
"What?" She winced at the unexpected harshness in her father-in-law's voice. Normally so open to suggestion and innovation, it was unlike him to react to anyone but Indis with that much unfounded irritation.
"I am from the future," She reminded him, "And I know what will come. The silmarils will cause only death and destruction to your line and everyone else in their path. Destroy the silmarils and perhaps you can change everything." Fёanáro glared at her, and she suddenly remembered several stories about him from her youth. "I should go." She said hastily.
"I will join you." Everyone looked in surprise as Alatatir spoke. The elleth proceeded to drag her sister-in-law out of the room. The two retreated out of the house, into a garden that Alatatir herself maintained. Culwen came to a stop first.
"Thank you," She said, "I thought that he was going to throw something at me."
Alatatir nodded distractedly. "What do you know?" She asked, her voice unusually quiet for the talented healer.
Culwen hesitated. "What did you See?" She countered.
"Death." Alatatir's eyes were filled with terror. "Alqualondë burning and its residents lying dead on the streets. I have lived there from when I was a young elfling until I married Cáno. My family lives there now. It is my favorite place in all of Valinor, with its ocean and boats and music."
"Why are you here then?" Culwen asked. "No one would mind if you and Cáno moved there."
Alatatir blushed. "Normally we would," She began, "But there is a touch of difficulty back home. My twin sister, she traveled around a lot. One day she went to visit our mother. She met Quenëar, they fell in love instantly, and they got married the next day."
"Your sister married Quenëar son of Falassë son of Olwë?" Culwen commented. "I'm impressed."
"The house of Olwë is not." Alatatir said with a smile. "Quenëar's twin sister is especially horrified. While she is not angry at me, I still don't want to be in the same city as an angry Lindëhísië." Her smile faded. "Who would attack people like them? Who would do something like that?"
Culwen said nothing. How could she, when she knew the answer?
"Your father is insane." Finno's voice rose above the rest. A small crowd had gathered, curious about the result of the meeting. Finwё, worried by the growing darkness, had called a meeting of all of his advisors. The king was worried enough to not only put Fёanáro and Ñolofinwë in the same room, but also to invite his three exiled advisors; Aelinelen, Elemmírë, and Rúmil.
Moryo bristled at Finno's accusation. "Father is not insane. He has just been irritable lately." Everyone winced as they heard Fёanáro's angry voice in the distance.
Finno raised a doubting eyebrow. "Would you call him paranoid?"
"Drop it, Finno." Turno said gently. "Arguing will get us nothing. Melkor is an enemy to all of us."
"Did Grandfather say that Melkor was the problem?" Maitimo came over to join their conversation. "Whatever we all may think of the Valar, they are not in charge of judgement. The Court of the Valar would not release him if they thought he would do ill."
Culwen shook her head. "They had no evidence that Melkor would do evil." Everyone looked at her in confusion. "What?"
"How do you know that?" Maitimo asked. "Beya has banned the others from speaking of the judgement of Melkor."
"That matters not in the time that I am from." She said with a grin. "Also, Zyphe owes a friend of mine a favor or two. I heard from that friend."
"How do you get one of the court of the Valar in debt to you?" Findo asked. He winced as her smile faded. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to." The ellon added hastily.
"No, it is fine," She replied, "Though it matters not in this of peace time, Zyphe is the protector of captives. However, there are limits to her power. She failed to save my friend's grandfather and to let his family avenge his death." Culwen looked down, ignoring the others' horrified looks. "That was a bad way to die."
Curvo wrapped a comforting arm around his wife. "I'm sorry, love." He whispered. She only shook her head. They looked up at the sudden slamming of a door.
Culwen did not hear their words. She only saw the insanity in Fёanáro's and the fierce sense of betrayal in Ñolofinwë's. There was barely enough time for her to acknowledge that Fёanáro's sword, pointed at his brother's neck, was beautiful, before the battle axe flew between the brothers, separating them.
Fёanáro drew away, furious at the interruption. Everyone turned to look at Aelinelen, who carried her basin as usual.
"The Valar," She scoffed, "Said that there would be no sadness or violence in the blessed realm. I once thought that I would not have to use my axe again." The slender elleth yanked the axe out of the wall.
"It is not like you to interfere." Fёanáro said with a snarl. "Why do you act now?"
She winced. "I acted once and I fear that all I did will be used for ill." Her eyes filled with grief. "Fёanáro, back when you were young and Finwё was consumed with grief over Míriel's death, we, the three advisors of Finwё, raised you. For those days, and for when I defied Finwё for your benefit, will you not stop this madness now?"
"You want me to destroy the silmarils as well."
"I said nothing of the silmarils," Aelinelen's eyes filled with desperation, "But don't you see how they consume your every thought? Do you remember nothing of the idealism of your youth? It was not blind foolishness."
Fёanáro shook his head in disdain. "You know nothing of me." She flinched at his words. The ellon began to walk out of the hall amid the utter silence. He drew to a halt as the doorway was blocked by Alatatir.
"Listen to me." She said, "I am your daughter-in-law, but I am your elder. I was the healer at your birth. If you will not listen to my mother, then answer one question for me. Which matters more to you, the silmarils or the lives of your sons?"
He didn't answer her question, only glaring at her on his way out.
"I don't know why Fёanáro is being so stubborn." Alatatir told Culwen with a sigh. "I could be at a festival right now."
"At least he went." Culwen offered. "After he and Ñolofinwë reconcile we can go back to Tirion." The two elleths sat together at a table, having tea. "It would be nice to see someone different."
"Well, we're certainly different." The elleths looked up at the newcomers, Elenwë holding a little Itarillë. Elenwë beamed as both Culwen and Alatatir began fussing over the baby. "Turno and I figured that you all would need some company."
"Company is welcome," Alatatir said with a smile, "But I think that Turukáno sought the company of one in particular. He must miss Curufinwë."
Culwen laughed. "They are good friends. Both of them care more for knowledge and skill than anything else." Another cup of tea was poured for Elenwë as the elleths began to talk.
"I, myself, want a daughter," Alatatir said, "One daughter, since my sister is the bane of my existence. Ideally, she would have her father's musical talent and none of my foresight."
"That was oddly detailed." Elenwë teased. "I just want some more kids, maybe four or five. I'd like a son as well. What about you, Culwen?"
The elleth smiled. "I would also like that many children, one day." Her smile faded. "But I fear the darkness that comes. If I could only have one child, I would want a son, one like his father."
"This conversation involves too much foresight for my taste." Elenwë commented, taking her daughter from Alatatir.
"And a fair amount of denial." Alatatir said. Culwen shivered as she thought of Himlóm and of the foresight that Alatatir's daughter was famed for.
The wind shifted. The change was so different from the gentle weather of Valinor that the elleths turned to look. Culwen, with the sharpest sight of them all, saw it first, a shifting darkness on the horizon. "So, this is how it ends." She said.
Alatatir looked pale. "Is that Melkor's magic? Did the Valar not ban him? He cannot create that darkness, so what did?"
"It matters not; this is their destination." Elenwë swept to her feet, fear clear in her voice. A sudden chill penetrated the air and pierced their lungs. "Melkor is still trying to get the silmarils." She wailed.
Footsteps and shouts rang out as the rest of Formenos was alerted to their plight. Turno appeared in the door. "Elenwë," He gasped. The elleth ran to her husband, Itarillë clutched tight in her arms.
Culwen felt a spark of fear. Death and despair were not unfamiliar, but still unexpected in her youth. Too clear to her were memories of a dark fear, similar but far less than that of Melkor; of one, like a cousin to her, sacrificing herself for Culwen. All they could find of Curucam was her sword.
The screaming started then. Culwen winced at the sound; at the thought of despair and fear in the Blessed Realm. She ran through the halls, leaving the others behind, to the vault of Formenos. She grabbed her bow on the way as she ran towards the chaos and fighting.
Fighting was really the wrong word for it. Finwё lay dying, as his horrifies subjects fled for their lives. Melkor held two chests, one containing the silmarils. Ungoliant stood by his side, a writhing blackness that sucked all light from the world. Even as she watched, a Maia came to Melkor's aid.
She recognized him from the glowing shadows of Aulё's forge, it was Mairon, who loved perfection. It was Mairon, who would be known by many names, including Sauron. It was he that would torture and kill her son, all for the sake of three rings.
Melkor snarled at her as she approached him. "A daughter-in-law of Fёanáro is no match for me," He said, "If Finwё could not beat me, what choice does one who is not of his house?"
"I am no descendent of Fёanáro, that is clear," Culwen responded, "But I am of the house of Finwё. He has two more sons and two daughters."
A spark of fear lit in Melkor's eyes.
"It shall be as you fear," She said, "Your ruin will come from Turukáno. However, that is not my role in this tale. I will not ask you to change your ways, for you will listen to none."
"Then leave," He told her, "For no others here will listen to your word."
"Still, I will speak." Culwen turned to the Maia. "Mairon," She began, "Is this truly what you want? I See that you are not all darkness. Do you really desire, you who loves perfection so much, to follow the destruction of Melkor? You will be scorned for as long as you do his will, and live in fear of him."
Mairon backed away from here. "You lie." He said, almost hesitantly. "You fear the power of Melkor."
"Melkor will not rule forever, so why should I fear him?" She responded. "If I say nothing to you, however, I will forever regret it. Your deeds will cause me great grief and your fall will come through that deception."
It seemed, for just an instant, that Mairon had listened to her. The moment passed as Melkor's gaze hardened. "None will listen to your word." He repeated.
The Ainur left, abandoning the desperate elleth. "And thus the doom of us all is cast," She muttered, "Both that of the Noldor and of Melkor and his followers." Culwent bent down to Finwё.
Finwё opened his eyes, slowly. "So which of my children are you from?"
She laughed. "That will be a surprise. I believe that we will meet again before all is revealed."
The ellon gave a faint smile. "I see that you will remain mysterious, just like Aelinelen." His smile faded. "You follow vague agendas that no others know."
"She has always done what she thought was best for everyone," Culwen said, "Even Aelinelen can make mistakes, but you have always been one of her dearest friends."
"I am a fool," Finwё whispered, "Why did I ignore her words? If she comes today," He added, as if suddenly struck by all that had happened, "Please tell her that I am sorry. She was right and I was wrong. Please."
Culwen held the first king of the Noldor as life faded from his eyes. Others slowly began to approach and the songs of mourning began.
Swift footsteps approached the body of the king. Everyone looked up in terror at the sound, only to sigh in relief as Aelinelen appeared. As usual, she carried her basin. Unusually, her eyes were filled with a barely contained fear. She let out a cry at the sight of Finwё's body. "Please tell me that I'm not too late," She begged, "There is too much I need to say."
Culwen swallowed nervously. "He said that he was sorry. He said that you were right and that he was wrong."
"I was as wrong as he was." Aelinelen whispered, as tears escaped from her eyes and she began to weep for all that could have been. "The curse on the house of Finwё," She said, "Cannot now be undone. Not until he and I once more stand on equal ground."
Culwen wept as well, for she also knew what the night would bring.