Black, White, Gold
Chapter 2
by Shauna
***
Before the children had informed him of their early departure, Finarfin had planned a feast for the three houses. Perhaps if he had set it for the next day, they would have delayed for the fine food that was always on his table, but he had expected a stayover of weeks and had set the dinner up accordingly.
The hall was arrayed for comfort but still fair, with great banners of all colors hung across the high ceiling. The most beautiful of flowers were taken whole from the ground and placed in jeweled vases and set out along the hallway to the dining room, to be returned to the ground when the time came. Plates of white and silver sat glistening at each chair. Still more glorious was the food, made by the most accomplished chefs in Tirion, and aided by Earwen. The wife of Finarfin was not chiefly a cook, but she had great skill in the making of dishes.
Few were willing to let such festival go to waste, so Fingolfin and Turgon, and Turgon's wife Elenwe, and their young daughter Idril came on the appointed night and guested with them.
Though their families lived close together, Galadriel had seen Idril but once or twice, for she was still a child by any creature's reckoning. Small and trembling she stood behind her father's legs, wondering at the house of Finarfin. But Galadriel went to her knees, and took her hand, and stroked the girl's golden hair, and said, "It is easy to see that we are both of the line of Indis, is it not?"
She had meant her words to be lighthearted, and indeed Idril smiled and came out from her hiding place, and was no longer shy. But Fingolfin and Finarfin looked each at the other, with sadness in their eyes. How long had it been since the whole family gathered in feast? Never - never had they all assembled, all the High Noldor, for Feanor would not see his stepmother Indis acknowledged, and ate not at the same table with her, though they lived in Formenos together with Finwe.
Sensing the fell mood that had befallen, the mothers of the houses bestirred themselves to set the table out. Once they began to eat all that was ill slipped away. Idril was delightful in her youth, and Turgon doted upon her, but secretly Finarfin thought his own daughter was no less charming for her greater years. It is difficult to say what opinion Fingolfin was of, perhaps because his mind still dwelt with Aredhel as she rode across the plains.
And perhaps all their thoughts turned to the journey and to its destination, for the topic came ever up.
"And where did they wish to go?" Earwen asked when the conversation paused, for she hadn't had the chance to sit and talk with her niece or nephews.
"All about the West and the North, to see it swiftly but in full, and at the end, to Formenos," Finarfin nearly succeeded in keeping the tone of his voice smooth.
"Formenos," Fingolfin said, "where ever still our brother speaks against the Valar. It is as shadowed a land as can be in this lighted realm, and I would not have Aredhel go there alone."
"But Fingon went with her," Earwen said, for this she had been able to gather.
"So he did - as I bid him to. But still Feanor's words bode ill with me!"
"Feel you not any guilt, though, brother?" Finarfin asked.
"Guilt?" asked Fingolfin. "Forgiveness, out of my love for him, yes. But guilt?"
"Our mother does not walk the halls of Mandos. Perhaps we might have been kinder to him in his grief. Who knows how our early words shaped his opinion of us? Who knows what jealousy was born of our happy family of four, as he watched while mother held us on her lap, knowing that his own had gone to the halls of Mandos before he could even know her?"
Fingolfin sat silently, pondering this.
"And besides," Galadriel said, then stopped, embarassed. But her father looked at her gently so she continued on, "You have had eachother. I don't know what it would be like to grow up an only child. None of us does, except Idril."
"And she not for long," Turgon rumbled, shooting a quick, flirtatious look at his wife. Elenwe blushed.
"You speak truly, Galadriel," Fingolfin said. "As do you, my brother. I will spend some time in deeper thought among the matter. But for now, will you tell me, Finarfin, how goes the breeding of your great horses?"
They talked on that and on other matters for many hours. At last Elenwe sat with Idril sleeping upon her lap, and all the elders felt as tired as she. Bidding the others goodnight, Galadriel rose and went to her rooms. Yawning, she did not tarry to admire the banners and paintings, nor to stop and speak with her friends among the servants. Perhaps it was the fine elven wine but never had her bed seemed so soft and inviting.
As she succumbed completely to sleep, she had only time and wits to note that she had never felt so drawn to dream before.
***
By the time they dismounted their horses for the first night, Tirion had grown noticeably smaller in the distance. Fingon saw that his sister refused to turn her head to it. Ever stubborn, she was trying to make up for what she thought was a show of weakness at their departure. But Fingon felt no such compulsion.
So far had they ridden today, spurred onwards by the thought of a new journey and good company, and yet still he could see the fair city rising behind. Truly majestic was his proud home, the light from the watchtower shining out over the water, and Fingon imagined it white and sparkling where it hit the bluegreen waves.
Maedhros came up behind him, placing a hand on the small of his back. He shivered at the touch.
"It is colder then one would think, though this place is farther from the water," Fingon said at length, by way of explanation.
"Aye, and it will be even colder tonight," said Maedhros softly. "Shall we take a watch, together, cousin?"
"Of course," Fingon replied, "though as ever I am amused that we set watches at all. In the land of the Valar, nothing hunts us."
Maedhros said only, "This is how I was taught."
Fingon gave a sharp glance that was not lost on his companion. They had known eachother so long and so well, it was startling for him to find a point of disagreement. Their love of wandering and riding, their positions as eldest in their households, their fondness for eachother... these were what he preferred to dwell upon, not the strange differences that seemed ever arising. How could Maedhros not feel secure in this place of plenty?
They stood in silence, watching the tower as though it might suddenly sprint across the horizon, and they would not want to miss that. After a while, Maedhros realized his hand was still upon Fingon's back, and he removed it, but other than that they did not stir.
Seeing them, Celegorm said to Aredhel, "Our brothers seem to have the weight of the world on their shoulders, do they not?"
"They do indeed," she said, and at the sound of her voice Curufin turned towards them.
"I, for one, am glad the burden is theirs," Celegorm continued. "I'd rather a wood then a palace. What is there in kingship so desirable? I might turn it down if offered."
"Not I," interjected Curufin, for he knew what Aredhel felt on the matter, although in truth it was also more than posture. "Perhaps all you see is the triviality, but there is glory in it! Aye, and where there is suffering there are also the fruits of pain."
Well aware that they were staring, allthough the objects of their attention did not seem to notice, Aredhel cast her eyes away. "Fingon has oft said to me that he wished he was the youngest. Has Maedhros ever said like to you?"
"No," replied Curufin, but Celegorm murmured,
"Maybe not, but I have seen it in his eyes and bearing. Is that so ignoble? Father demands so much that one can not help but resent it at times."
"I would not," said Curufin, and his eyes glittered.
Aredhel liked not where the conversation had turned to, nor would she see any fighting break out among the brothers. So she asked Maglor for a song, and he was pleased to oblige, and hearing the sweet sounds drifting from the camp Fingon and Maedhros returned to it.
The next few days they spent on the plains, marking the distance only by the diminishing of the watchtower of Tirion. Most often they talked and sang as they went, but the brothers were quick to compete. Once Aredhel grew frustrated with their silly, boastful talk and petty games and cried, "Are all the sons of Feanor so much quicker to argue then they are upon their horses?"
And with a shout of laughter Aredhel rode off, Curufin and Celegorm fast to follow her, and the twins behind. Caranthir speeded his horse slightly but did not participate. Maglor seemed to be paying more attention to the animals that hid themselves in the grasses.
Fingon brought his horse beside Maedhros' and they watched as the forms grew smaller against the horizon.
"My sister will of course win, you know," Fingon said. "The children of Fingolfin are by far the ablest riders."
"Is that a challenge, cousin?"
"It is."
Maedhros threw him a slow, sideways smile. "And what will I get if I win?"
Fingon smiled back at him. "You won't." He spurred his horse even as Maedhros' began his indignant reply.
As they sped onward and the wind tore at Fingon's face, he gave a shout of exhiliration. Turning and meeting Maedhros eyes, he saw his feelings mirrored. Fingon stole a look at his cousin's good form - he was stradled masterfully on his great black horse, his red hair straight behind him like whipped fire. Then he took his gaze away, pressed his knees together and urged his mount on. Soon he knew nothing of his companion or the fields beside them, only the pounding of the horses.
Maedhros was close but still behind Fingon as he pulled up, Aredhel's ringing calls telling him that he had won. "And who... claimed your race, sister?" Fingon asked as his pulse slowed and his body calmed.
"I did,"she said, and that was quite obvious from the scowls on the boys' faces, appeased only by the fact of their dignified elder brother having joined the game.
"It really... wasn't... fair," Maedhros said, breathing hard, "my brothers were probably... fighting eachother for your attention... the whole way."
"And what's your excuse?" Aredhel shot back, although she knew he meant no insult.
Fingon smirked. "He doesn't have one." Maedhros looked as though he wanted to object but couldn't think of anything to say.
"We'll have to wait for Maglor," Aredhel said with a fond smile. They could just make him out in the distance.
They decided to make camp where they were, and by the time Maglor arrived the fire had been started and the foot put on. He was humming a tune that he had made as he rode along, and at the sound the others forgave him instantly for his delay.
It was a merry dinner they had, filled with lighthearted teasing and sweet song, and colored by their shared anticipation. For by the end of the next day they should near the greatest beauty of the Blessed Realm, the Trees of Light.
***
Galadriel awoke to her mother Earwen's troubled gaze. "Mother?" she asked, sitting up.
"Galadriel!" the woman exclaimed, and reached over to embrace her. "Know you not how long you have been sleeping?"
"Nay."
"For many days. We asked the Valar for help, and they said that you were in no danger, that indeed great strength would come to you from your long rest, but still I could not help fearing..."
"Oh, mother, I'm so sorry," she murmured, and Earwen reached out and held her. They sat a while on the bed and the elder woman's worries were assuaged. But then Galadriel sat up. She gently disentangled herself, shifted away. She held herself upright as though she would not be touched and had a distant look in her eyes, and she said simply, "I dreamed."
"Hush," her mother whispered, a new worry settling in her stomach. For her daughter looked aged somehow, as like a true woman. "Hush, Galadriel," she repeated, though she saw now how incongruous the words of comfort were. "I must go find your father."
***
Chapter 2
by Shauna
***
Before the children had informed him of their early departure, Finarfin had planned a feast for the three houses. Perhaps if he had set it for the next day, they would have delayed for the fine food that was always on his table, but he had expected a stayover of weeks and had set the dinner up accordingly.
The hall was arrayed for comfort but still fair, with great banners of all colors hung across the high ceiling. The most beautiful of flowers were taken whole from the ground and placed in jeweled vases and set out along the hallway to the dining room, to be returned to the ground when the time came. Plates of white and silver sat glistening at each chair. Still more glorious was the food, made by the most accomplished chefs in Tirion, and aided by Earwen. The wife of Finarfin was not chiefly a cook, but she had great skill in the making of dishes.
Few were willing to let such festival go to waste, so Fingolfin and Turgon, and Turgon's wife Elenwe, and their young daughter Idril came on the appointed night and guested with them.
Though their families lived close together, Galadriel had seen Idril but once or twice, for she was still a child by any creature's reckoning. Small and trembling she stood behind her father's legs, wondering at the house of Finarfin. But Galadriel went to her knees, and took her hand, and stroked the girl's golden hair, and said, "It is easy to see that we are both of the line of Indis, is it not?"
She had meant her words to be lighthearted, and indeed Idril smiled and came out from her hiding place, and was no longer shy. But Fingolfin and Finarfin looked each at the other, with sadness in their eyes. How long had it been since the whole family gathered in feast? Never - never had they all assembled, all the High Noldor, for Feanor would not see his stepmother Indis acknowledged, and ate not at the same table with her, though they lived in Formenos together with Finwe.
Sensing the fell mood that had befallen, the mothers of the houses bestirred themselves to set the table out. Once they began to eat all that was ill slipped away. Idril was delightful in her youth, and Turgon doted upon her, but secretly Finarfin thought his own daughter was no less charming for her greater years. It is difficult to say what opinion Fingolfin was of, perhaps because his mind still dwelt with Aredhel as she rode across the plains.
And perhaps all their thoughts turned to the journey and to its destination, for the topic came ever up.
"And where did they wish to go?" Earwen asked when the conversation paused, for she hadn't had the chance to sit and talk with her niece or nephews.
"All about the West and the North, to see it swiftly but in full, and at the end, to Formenos," Finarfin nearly succeeded in keeping the tone of his voice smooth.
"Formenos," Fingolfin said, "where ever still our brother speaks against the Valar. It is as shadowed a land as can be in this lighted realm, and I would not have Aredhel go there alone."
"But Fingon went with her," Earwen said, for this she had been able to gather.
"So he did - as I bid him to. But still Feanor's words bode ill with me!"
"Feel you not any guilt, though, brother?" Finarfin asked.
"Guilt?" asked Fingolfin. "Forgiveness, out of my love for him, yes. But guilt?"
"Our mother does not walk the halls of Mandos. Perhaps we might have been kinder to him in his grief. Who knows how our early words shaped his opinion of us? Who knows what jealousy was born of our happy family of four, as he watched while mother held us on her lap, knowing that his own had gone to the halls of Mandos before he could even know her?"
Fingolfin sat silently, pondering this.
"And besides," Galadriel said, then stopped, embarassed. But her father looked at her gently so she continued on, "You have had eachother. I don't know what it would be like to grow up an only child. None of us does, except Idril."
"And she not for long," Turgon rumbled, shooting a quick, flirtatious look at his wife. Elenwe blushed.
"You speak truly, Galadriel," Fingolfin said. "As do you, my brother. I will spend some time in deeper thought among the matter. But for now, will you tell me, Finarfin, how goes the breeding of your great horses?"
They talked on that and on other matters for many hours. At last Elenwe sat with Idril sleeping upon her lap, and all the elders felt as tired as she. Bidding the others goodnight, Galadriel rose and went to her rooms. Yawning, she did not tarry to admire the banners and paintings, nor to stop and speak with her friends among the servants. Perhaps it was the fine elven wine but never had her bed seemed so soft and inviting.
As she succumbed completely to sleep, she had only time and wits to note that she had never felt so drawn to dream before.
***
By the time they dismounted their horses for the first night, Tirion had grown noticeably smaller in the distance. Fingon saw that his sister refused to turn her head to it. Ever stubborn, she was trying to make up for what she thought was a show of weakness at their departure. But Fingon felt no such compulsion.
So far had they ridden today, spurred onwards by the thought of a new journey and good company, and yet still he could see the fair city rising behind. Truly majestic was his proud home, the light from the watchtower shining out over the water, and Fingon imagined it white and sparkling where it hit the bluegreen waves.
Maedhros came up behind him, placing a hand on the small of his back. He shivered at the touch.
"It is colder then one would think, though this place is farther from the water," Fingon said at length, by way of explanation.
"Aye, and it will be even colder tonight," said Maedhros softly. "Shall we take a watch, together, cousin?"
"Of course," Fingon replied, "though as ever I am amused that we set watches at all. In the land of the Valar, nothing hunts us."
Maedhros said only, "This is how I was taught."
Fingon gave a sharp glance that was not lost on his companion. They had known eachother so long and so well, it was startling for him to find a point of disagreement. Their love of wandering and riding, their positions as eldest in their households, their fondness for eachother... these were what he preferred to dwell upon, not the strange differences that seemed ever arising. How could Maedhros not feel secure in this place of plenty?
They stood in silence, watching the tower as though it might suddenly sprint across the horizon, and they would not want to miss that. After a while, Maedhros realized his hand was still upon Fingon's back, and he removed it, but other than that they did not stir.
Seeing them, Celegorm said to Aredhel, "Our brothers seem to have the weight of the world on their shoulders, do they not?"
"They do indeed," she said, and at the sound of her voice Curufin turned towards them.
"I, for one, am glad the burden is theirs," Celegorm continued. "I'd rather a wood then a palace. What is there in kingship so desirable? I might turn it down if offered."
"Not I," interjected Curufin, for he knew what Aredhel felt on the matter, although in truth it was also more than posture. "Perhaps all you see is the triviality, but there is glory in it! Aye, and where there is suffering there are also the fruits of pain."
Well aware that they were staring, allthough the objects of their attention did not seem to notice, Aredhel cast her eyes away. "Fingon has oft said to me that he wished he was the youngest. Has Maedhros ever said like to you?"
"No," replied Curufin, but Celegorm murmured,
"Maybe not, but I have seen it in his eyes and bearing. Is that so ignoble? Father demands so much that one can not help but resent it at times."
"I would not," said Curufin, and his eyes glittered.
Aredhel liked not where the conversation had turned to, nor would she see any fighting break out among the brothers. So she asked Maglor for a song, and he was pleased to oblige, and hearing the sweet sounds drifting from the camp Fingon and Maedhros returned to it.
The next few days they spent on the plains, marking the distance only by the diminishing of the watchtower of Tirion. Most often they talked and sang as they went, but the brothers were quick to compete. Once Aredhel grew frustrated with their silly, boastful talk and petty games and cried, "Are all the sons of Feanor so much quicker to argue then they are upon their horses?"
And with a shout of laughter Aredhel rode off, Curufin and Celegorm fast to follow her, and the twins behind. Caranthir speeded his horse slightly but did not participate. Maglor seemed to be paying more attention to the animals that hid themselves in the grasses.
Fingon brought his horse beside Maedhros' and they watched as the forms grew smaller against the horizon.
"My sister will of course win, you know," Fingon said. "The children of Fingolfin are by far the ablest riders."
"Is that a challenge, cousin?"
"It is."
Maedhros threw him a slow, sideways smile. "And what will I get if I win?"
Fingon smiled back at him. "You won't." He spurred his horse even as Maedhros' began his indignant reply.
As they sped onward and the wind tore at Fingon's face, he gave a shout of exhiliration. Turning and meeting Maedhros eyes, he saw his feelings mirrored. Fingon stole a look at his cousin's good form - he was stradled masterfully on his great black horse, his red hair straight behind him like whipped fire. Then he took his gaze away, pressed his knees together and urged his mount on. Soon he knew nothing of his companion or the fields beside them, only the pounding of the horses.
Maedhros was close but still behind Fingon as he pulled up, Aredhel's ringing calls telling him that he had won. "And who... claimed your race, sister?" Fingon asked as his pulse slowed and his body calmed.
"I did,"she said, and that was quite obvious from the scowls on the boys' faces, appeased only by the fact of their dignified elder brother having joined the game.
"It really... wasn't... fair," Maedhros said, breathing hard, "my brothers were probably... fighting eachother for your attention... the whole way."
"And what's your excuse?" Aredhel shot back, although she knew he meant no insult.
Fingon smirked. "He doesn't have one." Maedhros looked as though he wanted to object but couldn't think of anything to say.
"We'll have to wait for Maglor," Aredhel said with a fond smile. They could just make him out in the distance.
They decided to make camp where they were, and by the time Maglor arrived the fire had been started and the foot put on. He was humming a tune that he had made as he rode along, and at the sound the others forgave him instantly for his delay.
It was a merry dinner they had, filled with lighthearted teasing and sweet song, and colored by their shared anticipation. For by the end of the next day they should near the greatest beauty of the Blessed Realm, the Trees of Light.
***
Galadriel awoke to her mother Earwen's troubled gaze. "Mother?" she asked, sitting up.
"Galadriel!" the woman exclaimed, and reached over to embrace her. "Know you not how long you have been sleeping?"
"Nay."
"For many days. We asked the Valar for help, and they said that you were in no danger, that indeed great strength would come to you from your long rest, but still I could not help fearing..."
"Oh, mother, I'm so sorry," she murmured, and Earwen reached out and held her. They sat a while on the bed and the elder woman's worries were assuaged. But then Galadriel sat up. She gently disentangled herself, shifted away. She held herself upright as though she would not be touched and had a distant look in her eyes, and she said simply, "I dreamed."
"Hush," her mother whispered, a new worry settling in her stomach. For her daughter looked aged somehow, as like a true woman. "Hush, Galadriel," she repeated, though she saw now how incongruous the words of comfort were. "I must go find your father."
***