I actually own most of the characters seen here, but not Feonor, who is spoken much of, nor his son Caranthir, present in this story. The places and peoples of the world, even my own characters who wander in it here were first written of by J. R. R. Tolkien, whom I am deeply indebted to.

Please do not sue, but just enjoy. :)

While the other ellon of Ossiriand rested that night before continuing their search in the day, the two angriest among them had offered to take first watch together. In the starlight, the features of both of them softened. Long after the even breathing of the others proved them asleep, the wakeful Sindar asked the once-Noldo "What was it like?"

Sarnhael turned narrowed eyes and a tight mouth to the dark elf. "What?"

Ranthalion's face glowed slightly. His wide eyes focused on the light elf's face. "Living in Valinor. Since my parents told the Valar we would not go with them and the shining tall ones left that had made me feel safe with their presence, I've wondered what it would have been like to have followed them there instead of staying ..."

The elf of light looked down and stared at the silt he sat upon before answering. "It was … wondrous. My mind was not often quiet there. I had so many ideas to make into reality with metal then I kept thinking on them almost every moment. The things of beauty you could invent there ... But my mind as well as my heart could have easily been at peace if I'd let them then. So much beauty, so much light to see it by, and all the sounds were music ..."

"And you, and your kin were … safe?"

"Until the Valar released Melkor. I remember my old teacher, who loved me a little less than his own sons before that, cutting me out of his confidence after. Within years of Melkor's wondering of Valinor, there were no more invitations given to me to go with Feonor to his forge. No more invitations to dine at his table either. He no longer walked with me to share his latest ideas or hear my own. But my brothers continued to receive invitations from his sons to do all these things and more ... That is when I knew our fates were forever connected to his and his family's and for ill. I began to make them knives in secret myself soon after this realization, so they could defend themselves in a moment among my teacher's kin that turned violent, for I was sure it soon would."

The dark elf tilted his head as he stared at the old student of Feonor, "I think you did right by following your brothers to Arnor. Even your part in the kin-killing I can understand. You thought your closest kin endangered from your more distant when you interfered."

The other elf's jaw tightened. Ranthalion raised his brows. "You do not agree?"

The other turned his gaze to meet his. Sarnhael's brows created a ridge over his eyes. His teeth were bared to the starlight. "Why are you angry at your family, even now, for staying in the land you were born in instead of taking you to Valinor?"

The dark elf's eyes snapped shut. He turned his face aside. Another moment passed before he replied. "Because … they chose that land in the east, keeping it fair, over the safety and joy of me, and my brother. And Lastanan did not speak for us. My older brother chose being respectful to our parents, over our happiness, over mine ... then."

Celuant stared down at the silt again, but the furrows of his face had sunk into smoothness as he relaxed. "So do I remember my brothers choosing to cross the sea with their friends instead of staying due to my words of caution. And I followed them. And I regret it."

The dark elf raised his head to stare at the light one and asked, "And you love them not at all anymore?"

"I now know love is pain ..."

The other dark elf stared at him another few moments before saying "Not always …"

The elf turned his gaze back to the one who had seemed to him the darkest of all dark elves as Ranthalion went on. "Sometimes, yes." He nodded and tears formed in his eyes. His voice trembled slightly as he continued, "When Lathwinn was gone, and I knew her in dark hands, and our parents begged me not to go too, it was. But I left because of my sister's laugh, and her smile, and her joy. I held her so dear I couldn't imagine those things disappearing from this world forever, I didn't want her light becoming darkness, so I determined to search for her even back into the dark east. And my brother went with me. And I knew, this time, he was for us our sister and me. He didn't speak harshly to mother and father, but he believed our sister could be rescued too and he left with me. And when we found her again, saved her, the joy was immense. Not all the time is love pain. Sometimes it is joy."

The other ellon stared back his scarred face only growing longer and greyer even if softer before he replied. "And if those who used to bring you joy lead you to a place where you have blood on your hands, have crossed the sea against the Valar's will, and finally offer not to welcome, but to kill you when you return to them, what then? Am I still to go and die for them, chase them no matter how they see me?"

The dark elf shook his head. "No. But if you have nothing but hate and misery in your heart you can only bring darkness to my aunt, who loves you and wishes to bring you joy."

The other elf bowed his head and looked away as the dark elf even while he turned his own head and gaze away and gave a twisted smile as he continued "I know well I am the sourest of my siblings, my family, maybe even my people. Like you did for your siblings, I warn mine, guard them, and get angry with them. But when I am tempted to turn their joy to dissatisfaction, their shock to pain, and their light into darkness sometimes I manage to stop and remind myself I am angry partly because I felt the light of the trees in Valinor taken from me forever," He fell silent and bowed his head further before lighting it as his smile grew softer, "But here the Singer is offering me light, now, in them, my loved ones, and I forgive them. For they are a gift given to me and others. How can I spurn that and desecrate it and say I hate the darkness if I crush the light that brightens it? Instead, I can let it into me and let it further brighten the world? I cannot simply stomp it out."

The scarred face twisted and growled. "Your family is not mine."

The dark elf lifted his head and fixed his wet gaze on the Noldo. "They want to be. But what kind of family can I trust you to be for mine?"

And the other ellon went silent.

. . .

They were riding on a moonless night, but there were still the stars, and they were bright. The sons of Feonor, their friends, trusted them to keep the area around their fort safe. There was little need now though. Melkor hid from them in his stronghold and the armies they had faced in the beginning seemed to be hiding with their master as well. Only scouts and raiding parties of their foes appeared at times. Meanwhile, they, the Noldor, were building towers to watch these fearful foes better still. And soon, they would build cities. Surely things were turning their way. Surely, they would soon destroy the one who helped destroy the trees, avenge Finwe, Feonor, and others, and set these strange empty lands aright. These were privileges great enough to set one giddy. He had always had five brothers to be the weights to bear him down when such thoughts carried his spirit away though.

A smile spread over his lips, and he urged his mount on faster. This night, this patrol, was actually becoming too dull. He wanted to give his serious brothers a good laugh, and such was often preceded by a good scare. As he passed them, they calling out objections after him, he rushed through a shadowy area between rising columns of stone. He knew they'd catch up and have sharp words for him within moments, but their smiles would strain the chill tone they'd attempt to take. Near the middle of this shadowy area, his view changed.

The columns of stone seemed to become heads, heads with yellow eyes and opening mouths full of teeth. Arrows flew at him splitting air near his and his horse's flesh. His brothers' yells were indeed angry as he saw his way out of the dark blocked by lines of orcs bearing axes, bows, and swords. His brothers soon surrounded him, and he turned his mount to rush out the way they'd followed him in. They'd made that way clear. Once back in the light of the stars, he turned to see his eldest brother surrounded indeed. Every orc seemed to pass by his other brothers, even displaying their backs to them while attempting to reach up and drag Narkal down.

They were after Narkal? Of course, his eldest brother was one of the best smiths throughout all the lands one of the favored students of Feonor himself. They would take him to their own evil forges as a slave for their master! "Brother!"

He awoke. His eyes had already been open, but now they focused and flooded. He ran the back of his hand over his mouth and then nearly stuffed it in to stifle the cry making its way up his throat. His chest heaved within the armor he had not bothered to take off before lying down in his bed. Another far patrol, another time of questioning and listening to travelers and other patrollers from other lands, other forts, another time of searching the rocks, the fields, even a few glimpses of the sea looking, listening, for Narkal.

Why did he do it? For a laugh?

He removed his hand from his mouth and rubbed its sleeve, forgetting about the wristlet of metal covering it, against his damp forehead. Then he let his arm fall heavily to his side. His head lulled to the same side to look out the narrow window of his private bedroom. Bright light blared through revealing the chamber inside was almost bare. His brothers … besides Narkal … had quarters with curtains, vases, and art. He knew from their gazes that barely met his before looking away they weren't comfortable in them. He, though, felt as if there was always fire beneath his feet. He had to move, had to search, had to find Narkal even if he couldn't speak his name here. Why stay in a chamber where he couldn't speak what was always on his mind?

Even if his brother slew him, he had to say to his scarred face … "I was a fool. It was my fault. I know it now. It was all my fault you are in the wilds, scarred, starving and alone. I made it so you were tortured by the enemies' hands! It is not fair we are here still favored by Caranthir in this fort, when they won't speak you name, because it was all my fault. I care not what Caranthir says now! Do as you will. You always protected me, and I led you to this fate."

He sighed. Tarman ever the second eldest and now responsible leader, taking his promise to Narkal to replace him well seriously, had told him the orcs had indeed been there for their brother. They would have had to go in and check that shadow for such foes anyway, even if he had continued riding more slowly at the back of the line instead of going ahead so fast by himself. Things might have turned out just the same anyway. But they both knew ...

Narkal would have slowed down, rode in cautiously, listening, watching. Maybe he would have ordered them to line up together and become a wall of spear-tips propelled forward by horses followed with swords slashing down. The orcs would have fled before that! Instead, they'd been a loose string of chasers of a younger brother looking to make them laugh. If he just hadn't …

He turned his face down into the blanket atop his bed to dry his face. Then he sighed once more, rose, took off his armor and clothes, and went to bathe before presenting himself to Caranthir to ask for another assignment afar. Perhaps he'd run into his brothers in the hall to get the greeting and questions over with before they let him leave again.

. . .

Sarnin and her niece were striding over the surface of a plateau in strong sunlight. Then Lathwinn froze. She turned to her left and ran to the edge of the plateau to stare across the gap beyond at the next wall of rock. Sarnin raced to her niece's side. There, she also froze.

In the side of the next canyon wall was a cave. From the cave came snoring and a stench. Sarnin covered her mouth and nose. Lathwinn reached up and began to finger the feathered ends of her arrows. Then Sarnin knew they'd remain there till at least nightfall probably longer for Lathwinn to retrieve her arrows and for them both to bury their foes that night. The others would have worry even longer it seemed.

. . .

Usually, Caranthir attempted to tell him to rest a little longer before going out on the next mission. This time he told him his next mission would begin that afternoon and his brothers were going with him. They were to ride to the next building project and guard it.

The soldier and servant bit the inside of his cheek at his master's words. He didn't like them. There was little chance to find or get word of Narkal's current location at a Noldo building site: likely one reason Caranthir was so willing and quick to give this assignment to him. If he angered Canranthir, though, he might be killed before finding and apologizing to his brother, or worse, be imprisoned within the fort and kept alive while incapable of searching for him. The young elf turned and went to the stables to await his brothers. He hadn't seen them all that day, which had never happened before. Could they have angered Caranthir? Was that why they were being sent off on this mission?

He walked out into the space between tower and the great encircling wall where elves had already died due to Melkor's influence and spell on one of them. While striding across it, Ascarant wondered if there was a spell over the other elves there now. Usually, he got many looks hard or soft and wet from the others. Now all he saw was the back of their heads. He slowed his steps waiting for even half a face to be turned his way. Chatter continued, hands were busy, steps were taken to destinations, but none tin any fashion caused any to look his way or address him. His eyes grew wide.

He entered the stable and began selecting a horse. Once the high-spirited ones loved him. Now, few horses were willing to carry one with such a heavy heart, who rode them so hard. He went about seeing which steed least pulled away at or, like the elves outside, ignored, his presence. During this quest to find the least unwilling mount (maybe he ought to tell them he wouldn't ride them so hard on this journey since it took him no where he wished to go) his ears picked up a conversation.

"That poor elleth of Ossiriand proud of her river-stones ..."

"Aye, you'd think she'd have learned how to carve rock better by now."

"Perhaps … she is not being taught how. Perhaps the one who made that knife does not teach."

"Silence."

He felt his second eldest brother's anger. How cut short that last word was, and the direction. Knife-maker … It could be … Who else?

He ran to the fastest mount, one that would have loved him in the old days, almost as reckless as he. He flung open the door of its stall and was on its back almost before it could react. As he urged it forward, he felt as if his sudden hope and its surprise were melded into one emotion even as their bodies seemed to meld together too.

They both fled forward. It was strong daylight. The gates were already open to let he and the others out so as the sound wouldn't startle the horses while they were out of their stalls. He heard the startled cries of his other brothers behind him but didn't let them slow him down. Narkal …

What do you think?

God bless

ScribeofHeroes