Black, White, Gold
by Shauna (wind3213@hotmail.com)
***
Chapter Four
***
Her eyes saw everything, from the great movements of the mountains on the back of Aule, to the swift stirrings of air by the breath of Manwe, to the slow, deep, unstoppable currents that was Ulmo, god of the sea and the sea itself. Her gaze lingered in the common households, saw strife and love and justice and injustice, and followed the spreading of lies as though they were tangible things. Ah, but to her they were, paths of pain and sadness to be followed upon by lesser yet more substantial creatures, and she would watch them and take pity, and one day send her servant to them.
"She has woken, Olorin, as we thought she would."
The Maia bowed his head low. "It was your eyes that saw such things as have come to pass, not mine."
Nienna turned her head from where she stood by the window. The window was an ornamental gesture, affected for the elves, though there were few here. "You see as I do."
Once again, Olorin protested. "Only through your teachings, Nienna."
"It is through my teachings that you have learned from Iluvatar, yes. Remember that, for though one day you may venture forth from me and my kind, always will there be Iluvatar to teach you." He moved to speak and she raised a hand to silence him. "Do not deny what you cannot see. Even the Maia will not stay with the Vala overlong."
"Speak you of Melian?" asked Olorin quietly.
"Yes. I do not miss her greatly, for seldom did she frequent these halls, but she reminds me that you too will leave, leave as all things must from West to East, even as the sun does in darkest night." She turned to again to face the darker ocean, staring out through the walls and over the fields to where black waves lapped at the shores. "Even he traveled to the east, he who they would judge as utterly forsaken. He yearned for the east, from which new things come. That is what made me plead for him."
"The sun?" Olorin repeated, confused. "What is that of which you speak? And what is night? And why speak you of Melkor, when you were right, and he is forgiven?"
"These are not questions which I may answer," she said softly, looking upon him with a wisdom indistinguishable from pity. He was reminded again that she was sister to the Feanturi, and would not always provide him with welcome answers.
Gathering his strength, he promised, "I will not leave you."
Nienna smiled, peaceful once more. "Not for a time, but eventually. I release you from your promise, child."
The tides were very far away indeed, only beginning to stir with apprehension of the moon. She would speak to her brother of the great white globe that haunted her so.
She brushed the thought aside and took Olorin's hand, whispered, "Wait." Together they became absolutely silent, hearing not even the beats of their ageless hearts. With a brush like a maiden's hand spreading cloth along a table top, she soothed Olorin's impatience. *See.*
To the elf-woman, first, who now awake stood at the eastern windows of the highest tower in Tirion, facing the sea. A look of longing was etched across her face. And yet while she ached unceasingly, she did not stir or move, did not begin the path that Melian had taken. She waited, unfulfilled yet patient.
Unable to stand to look upon her too long, Olorin directed their shared eyesight northward, to where two princes walked in conversation. Looking closely upon them, Olorin understood the words.
'We should not make these weapons, brother. At the least, we should not hide them.'
'Do you think I wished to? But the deceiver has been about, bandying words with the lesser nobles, giving them gifts among which these swords are but the least.'
'Speak to Manwe, then, and all will be forgiven.'
'Would you betray your own brother to the highest king? He would never to us, no matter the deepest hatred seethe in his heart.'
'Perhaps. So speak to father. It cannot go on.'
'Father is with Feanor, as always. Perhaps if their travels ever take them back to Tirion, I will.'
*That is not what we look for, curious one.* Nienna guided him away from them, even further northward. They watched a band of riding elves, each with turmoil at heart, echoes of the deep stirrings of the sea.
*Do you see?* she asked him.
*Yes, I see.*
*And do you understand?*
*... no. I do not think so.*
It was hard to understand the workings of the Vala, but yet Nienna felt that was what she must train him to do. To understand that Galadriel wept from love and not from hatred, that many of these riders were spurred not by the vicious deceptions of Melkor but by the pull of Ulmo. That even the Vala could be cruel , and even the cruel could be pitied.
*Why not?* she asked him, as the vision began to falter.
"I expected fire," Olorin whispered, and the vision broke.
***
She had found that adventuring was not quite as she had imagined it would be. She envisioned endless hours riding on the backs of her beloved horses, not realizing that eventually she would grow as tired as they. She had hoped to lie awake at night, peering through the dim tree light to watch the stars, not understanding how swiftly she would fall asleep, nor that if she attempted to sleep waking, the pebbles lodged beneath her would break her calm. And much as she loved her cousins, Maedhros' brooding but caring manner, Curufin's and Celegorm's unceasing attentions, the twins' quiet demeanor and sudden, surprising banter and Maglor's refreshing melodies, as much as she loved and delighted in all these things she found herself rather wishing for something new.
She said as much to Fingon.
When he had done with his affectionate laughter, he answered, "I should have expected as much from you. You are lucky, Ar-Feiniel, for soon we will be entering the borders of Formenos."
Rightly he spoke, for ere the light waned they were entering a village. As they rode Maglor pulled out one of his instruments, and breathing into it created a song most familiar to the residents of these parts, one that indeed the cousins had sung throughout their journey. It was quite compelling, though the notes trilling high bordered on sweet.
Caranthir glanced restlessly at his brother, perhaps wishing for a song louder and less beautiful.
As they reached the town the people gathered, coming to the doors and windows to catch sight of them. The elder ones held back with respect but the children pushed forward, dodging gracefully around the horses, unheeding of their hooves. A small one of three or four, who was perhaps not yet old enough to keep from being trampled, pushed her way to Aredhel's feet.
"I didn't know that there were princesses!" the girl cried, eyes alight, mouth wide with awe.
Aredhel laughed at the girl's wonder. "If you count, I think you'll find you also have one too many princes."
The girl grinned in response. Leaning down Aredhel brushed her fingertips over her lips and then across the girls fair hair in a sisterly kiss. Her smile even greater now, the girl dropped back.
"Curufin!" one of the common elf-maiden's called as they rode past. She pushed her way to the front. She was beautiful but plain-clothed, and her eyes when she spotted Aredhel were awed, jealous. "Curufin," she mouthed again, but he did not turn to her.
"You'll see a lot of those if you hang around the town," Amrod whispered to Aredhel.
"Although, not as many as he used to have," Amras added, with a smile.
Aredhel frowned and turned away. It was not Curufin's associations with common women that disappointed her. It was the way he had ignored the poor girl, riding high on his steed with his head forward. She was none too pleased with the twins' banter, either, though she had to admire their loyalty to Celegorm. He rode up front near Maedhros and Maglor, seemingly unbothered by the possibility of a maiden calling out his name.
"Come now, cousin," Amrod said, "you'll not have thought that all elf princes were as chaste as your brother Fingon? Or as kindly as Celegorm?"
"Haven't you any feelings for the poor girl?" Aredhel snapped.
"Of course," Amras hastily replied. "We know her well, for at times she hunts with us. Her name is Narwen."
Riding up towards where Maedhros and Fingon rode, Aredhel asked, "May we stop here for the night?"
Curufin coughed nervously. "I think we can make the next village, don't you, Maedhros?"
"But I'm very tired," Aredhel murmured, "and I'd love to meet the townsfolk."
Ignoring the look of delight on Celegorm's face and the way Curufin's was reddening, Maedhros nodded and said, "Certainly. There is a small inn I know of here, which might have its rooms free."
They were lucky there were no other travelers, for the inn was indeed small and the only one of its kind. She had reminded everyone that when camping out in the open she was hardly far away, but Maedhros replied kindly yet firmly that the whole town watched its nobility, and the slightest break in propriety would be found a fault. So she took one room while the other eight shared two, as the inn had only that much space.
She was just readying herself for bed, having finished what seemed like the most luxurious bath she'd ever taken, when Fingon entered her rooms.
"Have you been enjoying the trip, Aredhel?" Fingon asked gently, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
Aredhel sighed and relaxed against him. "I am. But I miss - home."
Fingon nodded, careful not to dislodge her as he shifted to face her. "So do I. But home will be there when you get back, so take your time to enjoy what is here now."
"It also bothered me, today. About Curufin and that maiden. Everyone treated it like it was nothing, like it was okay to pretend to - do all men do that?" Aredhel asked.
"Sometimes women do it, too," Fingon chided her.
Blushing, Aredhel shot back, "You think you're so grown up, don't you? Go ahead and say it, I know you want to." She sat up, thrust her nose in the air and said in a deep voice, "My, Aredhel, you're getting so tall."
"You want to know what I think of you, Ar-Feiniel?" Slowly and with great concentration, Fingon stuck his tongue out at her.
Aredhel laughed and asked, "Will you rest now, too?"
Fingon shook his head. "Perhaps in a bit I shall, but for now I will rejoin the others downstairs. Maglor sings to make us merry, and if some still need help after that, there is some decent wine. Rest now, my favorite sister." Saying so, he rose and left.
A smile on her face, Aredhel began to do just that. Despite her teasing she took comfort in his presence, and a warm, protected feeling suffused her body. Slowly she turned over to douse her light, when out of the corner of her eye she saw a sudden movement. Metal flashed back the dying flame of her candle.
She had just about time to recognize the intruder as a woman before she struck.
The girl was stronger than she, taller and larger-boned with muscles from daily work. Yet Aredhel was quicker, and furthermore skilled, as she had once convinced Turgon to teach her how to fight. Her blows had little force but good location, and she was able to duck most of those returned. Only once was she hit with any force, and while her head still rang from the blow, the girl turned and tried to run.
Aredhel lunged and grabbed her, and she swung around. The girl had the weapon, but made no pretense of using it, and rather kicked with her legs and tried to scramble towards the window.
Stifling a cry as the girl's foot connected behind her knee, Aredhel fell to the floor and rolled, coming up again in front of the girl's escape. Standing up and trying not to limp, she set herself to fight again, but instead the girl let her knife drop to the floor, sat down on Aredhel's bed, and began to cry.
After a moment of stunned surprise, Aredhel walked and sat down next to her, once she had made sure the knife was put away and the lamp kindled again. She turned the girl's face towards her and her guess was confirmed - it was Narwen.
Glad that she had given her brother no reason to rush back to her door, she sat down next to the now harmless maiden and asked, "Why do you wish to hurt me?"
The Narwen looked up, aghast. "No! I did not come here with the intent of harming you. I wish I had not laid hands on you at all, but I wanted to escape - "
"Why did you come here?"
The girl lowered her head and gestured to where the knife was stowed. "I wanted to cut off your hair. Perhaps then Prince Curufin would want me instead of you."
Running a hand over her hair, Aredhel replied, "You might have done me a favor - 'tis very hot to travel with all this hair." When Narwen did not smile or even look up, Aredhel decided to be direct. "Curufin may love me, and there is nothing I can do about that. But I do not love him."
"You do not?"
"No. Should he ask for me, I would refuse. He is my half-cousin, though that alone does not keep me from him. No, it is that we are too alike, he and I. Too hard. We need someone gentle," Aredhel explained, and for a moment, her eyes seemed very distant.
"I am hardly gentle," murmured Narwen, gazing at her callused hand.
"Do I look like I am not?" Aredhel demanded. "I am tired of being judged by my station, and so, I think, are you. If I am not the gentle woman Curufin believes me to be, then perhaps you are."
Narwen stifled a sob. "Why do you say such things to me? Why have you not called in all the men to punish me, or punished me yourself?"
"I don't want to," Aredhel replied simply. "My father's mother Indis once told me that it is not for elves to judge each other's crimes. Of course, within a week I was being denied berries for supper because I had drawn father an epic picture on the walls with the juices..." Her voice trailed off as she realized she had again lost Narwen. "Besides, I was rather hoping you would be my friend."
The girl's head snapped up. "What? Why?"
"Most of my girl friends are too boring to think of attacking me. Of course, Elenwe might have, but she's a mother now, and Galad - " Aredhel cut herself off. "Do you suppose you could teach me how to use a bow and arrow? Celegorm tries, but he's a man and he doesn't know how to teach a woman."
"Yes, of course I will teach you, but - "
"But what?" Aredhel demanded, well aware that she had control of the situation. "This works out perfectly, don't you see? So, Curufin has invited me to see some 'beautiful meadows' tomorrow..."
***
"Galadriel?"
Amarie's sweet voice would not carry far amidst the roaring of the bay, so Galadriel was not surprised when the young elf appeared beside her. "Yes, Amarie? Have you come to check on me?"
Amarie was usually very composed, and Galadriel thought she had never seen her so ill at ease. "Not exactly."
Gently, Galadriel asked, "Have you come to talk to me about my brother?"
"Yes, I - " Amarie stopped, looked down to her feet as though the tassels on her slippers were as fascinating as the sea. "Yes."
"I'm not sure what help I can give you, besides to say what I see."
"Tell me that, then."
"I see he is happy when he is around you. Other things make him happy - being in the caves, riding and hunting, sporting with Turgon and Fingon and my father's other sons. But what you give him is a quiet happiness. You fit together, somehow. You are his softness and he is your strength."
Amarie clutched her hands about herself, trying to savor the words, those which she had felt completely but had not dared to voice. And Galadriel said them with such quiet confidence that it gave Amarie heart. As though they came so naturally that they were new to even Galadriel. A small smile forming on her lips, Amarie said, "I have never felt this way. It has come upon me all of a sudden, and I do not wish it to ever leave."
"Let me show you something, Amarie. In a little while Telperion will wane and the stars will shine their brightest over the sea. And then, if you look closely, you can see that light reflecting in the waves."
Amarie, confused, said nothing.
"When I watch it, it seems like the most beautiful thing Iluvatar ever created, and it feels like I would rather gaze upon it forever than move from where I sit. And yet, when the last pocket of light has been swallowed by Laurelin, I can stir with ease. I can leave and not watch the shore for several days, I can forget what seemed to be the most perfect beauty."
"I'm not sure I understand your council," Amarie said.
"What we love comes and goes. What seems a certainty can be gone with the change of mood. You will know what you must cling to not because it is what you love, but because it is what you are."
"So you're saying, if Finrod comes to me - "
"Oh, he will come to you. I do not doubt that."
" - then his love should not be enough?"
Galadriel smiled. "It is enough for now."
Amarie sighed, as much of her frustration as she'd let show. "What other time is there?"
Galadriel seemed to be swaying towards the ocean, leaning in and out with each wave. "There is the future. A future. A path, and he will help you pick the right one - "
"Galadriel?"
Galadriel tore her eyes from the ocean at once, panicked and uncertain. "What have I just said to you?"
Amarie's face mirrored Galadriel's. "Are you feeling well, Galadriel? You look very pale."
"I thought for a moment, as I watched the sea, that he was speaking to me..." Galadriel shook her head. "You are right, friend Amarie, perhaps it is best if I go indoors for a while."
"I will come with you."
"No," Galadriel replied, "you should wait here." She looked out into the mainland, saw two figures walking close together, and though she could not see who they were, she thought she knew. "It may be tonight."
It was indeed Finrod who she saw, but he did not see her, or Amarie, as he walked with Turgon absorbed in his thoughts.
"Tell me again the story of how you met Elenwe? How you - " Finrod coughed quickly, "approached her? Forgive me, cousin, but we always did everything together, and now it seems you have rushed ahead of me. So really it is all your fault that you must give your silly kinsman some guidance."
"Gratefully I do so," Turgon replied. He paused to collect his words and memories. "If you'll remember, Elenwe was a friend of Aredhel's, for most of Aredhel's friends are older, like your sister and the sons of Feanor. Long did I watch Elenwe for she is very beautiful, but nothing did I say. Aye, I was planning to speak to her, truly I was. I was!" he repeated at Finrod's laugh. "I just rather forgot what I meant to say when she was near me."
"And what then, Turgon?"
"Well Aredhel, you'll have realized, is quite perceptive, and she confronted me about the look in my eyes whenever Elenwe guested with us. Then she said that if I would like my tongue untied - she'd already spent too much time with Feanor's sons by then - she would get Elenwe to do so, for a price."
"A price?" Finrod asked, surprised.
"Aye, a price, and I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this between us. I wouldn't like my father knowing that I taught his only daughter how to fight."
"How to fight?" Finrod echoed. "Oh, I think he knows."
"What mean you?"
"Why else would he have let her ride with the sons of Feanor?"
Turgon smiled. "Perhaps he does know, at that."
"I was jesting, cousin!"
"So was I!" Turgon laughed. "I hardly believe the enmity between the houses runs that deep. I believe that most of them would rather mate her than maim her."
"You mention mating..."
"Right. So I agreed that I would teach her the skills of self-defense, against both elf and beast, and perhaps also the bow and arrow, though I never got around to that."
"Why didn't you? I can't imagine Aredhel letting you forget."
"My dear Finrod," Turgon replied, somewhat patronizingly, "when one marries one becomes suddenly quite busy."
Laughing, Finrod pressed, "But I still don't understand how you gained the strength to approach Elenwe."
"I didn't, that's the point. The very night I made my deal with Aredhel, Elenwe came up to me, pulled my face down to where she could reach me, and gave me the most thorough kiss I'd ever received."
"Elenwe!" Finrod exclaimed. "I can't imagine her doing a thing like that at all."
"Oh, neither could I, then. But I've found that one will do all sorts of uncharacteristic things for love."
"Ah," Finrod nodded as if he had found the answers to everything that had ever troubled him. "So that's why I found you that one day wearing a necklace and waiting quite calmly while Idril painted your face."
Turgon grew quite red but he answered with dignity, "She wanted to know why her mother always wore it but her father did not. She said it was very unfair. Quite takes after Aredhel, that one does."
They lapsed into a companionable silence as Finrod considered Turgon's words. Turgon himself smiled fondly as he recalled the moments that the conversation had brought to mind. He remembered Elenwe after the ceremony, no longer bold but nervous, pausing at the threshold to the door. He had taken her hand, asked "Follow me?" She released a deep breath and stepped into his arms.
Elenwe always looked beautiful, Turgon thought, whether calm or fiery, trembling, uncertain or bold. So beautiful, lying upon his bed with nothing but her long hair to clothe her.
But, Turgon reminded himself, breaking from his reverie, not every love was like his own. Not every elf was Elenwe, though of course Finrod was probably not so thickheaded as Turgon himself could be. Yet love did not work out for everyone.
Turgon remembered how shadowed Fingon had looked, present at his younger brother's joining but standing alone. Turgon had gone to him and said lightly, "I hope that one day soon I may stand where you stand now, and watch you shine in your happiness." But Fingon had only sighed, his brow furrowing until his face took on a mien so somber and unusual that Turgon had not forgotten it. Then Fingon gave his congratulations to his brother, and went to stand with Aredhel, who slipped an arm around his waist with a look too knowing for her years.
"Should I go to her?" Finrod asked at last, and Turgon studied him.
"I do not know her mind, my friend, but I have always regretted most the flower that never has the chance to blossom, that is crushed before it opens. There is always the chance that she may embrace you like the light. Yes, go to her."
Finrod nodded, although he did not move immediately. "You have never spoken to me thus before, Turgon."
"Well," replied Turgon, evenly, "the smell of you after days on a horse without rain has never quite moved me to poetry."
Finrod laughed, and then as though he refused to hesitate he wrapped his arms around his cousin and hugged him fiercely. Just as quickly, he pulled his arms back and hurried away, in what a very surprised Turgon assumed was the direction of Amarie.
***
The slight touch of a breeze where his tunic lay open could have been what awoke him, but to Fingon it felt like hesitating fingertips. He did not move his eyes until the last vestiges of warmth had vanished from the hollow of his throat. When no hand, no warmth returned, he shifted his gaze to where Maedhros sat innocently at the window.
"Awake before me as always, cousin," Fingon said suddenly, but of course Maedhros did not startle.
"The rest of us slept only briefly, for there is little pleasure in dreams when you cannot watch the stars as well. But perhaps we were not as tired as you and Aredhel."
"I take it, then, that she is not up?"
"Not up? She is up, and away to the meadows with Curufin."
This seemed to shock Fingon. "Curufin?"
"She seemed very eager to go with him," Maedhros mused. "I wonder if she has chosen."
Fingon turned towards the window so Maedhros wouldn't see how much the thought displeased him. At length he asked, "And how does this delay bode for our travels?"
"In a few days we will reach my father's dwellings," Maedhros replied with a wave of his hand. "It is of no consequence."
"What shall we do while we wait for the others to return?"
Something moved in the depths of Maedhros' eyes, and it was a long moment before he answered, "I had planned to go visiting. As you must know, you can never pay too much attention to your subjects."
"And the others?"
"Celegorm and the twins have gone out on a brief hunting trip with some of the residents of these parts. Curufin and Aredhel, as I said before, are heading for the meadows. And I believe Maglor is at this moment in the drinking room downstairs, trying to get Caranthir to sing."
Fingon chuckled. "I wish him great luck in that - I'm sure he'll need it."
Maedhros watched how the light struck him through the window, how the shadows fell on the floorboards and contrasted with his laughter. "And where - what shall you do this day?"
Fingon turned to him, his face now shaded, and said, "I shall go with you, of course."
Neither of them moved, and Maedhros thought that if he took but a few steps, he could feel again the kiss which had lingered on his lips for many days. He thought that he could reach again to the tunic guarding the warm skin of Fingon's chest and slip beneath its defenses. But in truth there was no defense, no self-protection, nothing between them besides what Maedhros put there. How many times could he be asked to reject his cousin's offering, how many times could he do right and turn himself from the embrace? Oh, father, he thought. If you knew how much you ask of me...
"You shall?" he asked Fingon, with a curt nod that was meant less as a forbidding gesture and more of a way to hide his own eyes. He forced himself to think of other things. They'd need to start with Mithwen's household, for she was held in highest esteem in this town, then perhaps to Linedhel's, for he was the eldest and were it not for the grey maiden he would be the leader of this ordinary town. He looked back up at Fingon, who was watching him with ill-concealed disappointment. "Then come."
***
by Shauna (wind3213@hotmail.com)
***
Chapter Four
***
Her eyes saw everything, from the great movements of the mountains on the back of Aule, to the swift stirrings of air by the breath of Manwe, to the slow, deep, unstoppable currents that was Ulmo, god of the sea and the sea itself. Her gaze lingered in the common households, saw strife and love and justice and injustice, and followed the spreading of lies as though they were tangible things. Ah, but to her they were, paths of pain and sadness to be followed upon by lesser yet more substantial creatures, and she would watch them and take pity, and one day send her servant to them.
"She has woken, Olorin, as we thought she would."
The Maia bowed his head low. "It was your eyes that saw such things as have come to pass, not mine."
Nienna turned her head from where she stood by the window. The window was an ornamental gesture, affected for the elves, though there were few here. "You see as I do."
Once again, Olorin protested. "Only through your teachings, Nienna."
"It is through my teachings that you have learned from Iluvatar, yes. Remember that, for though one day you may venture forth from me and my kind, always will there be Iluvatar to teach you." He moved to speak and she raised a hand to silence him. "Do not deny what you cannot see. Even the Maia will not stay with the Vala overlong."
"Speak you of Melian?" asked Olorin quietly.
"Yes. I do not miss her greatly, for seldom did she frequent these halls, but she reminds me that you too will leave, leave as all things must from West to East, even as the sun does in darkest night." She turned to again to face the darker ocean, staring out through the walls and over the fields to where black waves lapped at the shores. "Even he traveled to the east, he who they would judge as utterly forsaken. He yearned for the east, from which new things come. That is what made me plead for him."
"The sun?" Olorin repeated, confused. "What is that of which you speak? And what is night? And why speak you of Melkor, when you were right, and he is forgiven?"
"These are not questions which I may answer," she said softly, looking upon him with a wisdom indistinguishable from pity. He was reminded again that she was sister to the Feanturi, and would not always provide him with welcome answers.
Gathering his strength, he promised, "I will not leave you."
Nienna smiled, peaceful once more. "Not for a time, but eventually. I release you from your promise, child."
The tides were very far away indeed, only beginning to stir with apprehension of the moon. She would speak to her brother of the great white globe that haunted her so.
She brushed the thought aside and took Olorin's hand, whispered, "Wait." Together they became absolutely silent, hearing not even the beats of their ageless hearts. With a brush like a maiden's hand spreading cloth along a table top, she soothed Olorin's impatience. *See.*
To the elf-woman, first, who now awake stood at the eastern windows of the highest tower in Tirion, facing the sea. A look of longing was etched across her face. And yet while she ached unceasingly, she did not stir or move, did not begin the path that Melian had taken. She waited, unfulfilled yet patient.
Unable to stand to look upon her too long, Olorin directed their shared eyesight northward, to where two princes walked in conversation. Looking closely upon them, Olorin understood the words.
'We should not make these weapons, brother. At the least, we should not hide them.'
'Do you think I wished to? But the deceiver has been about, bandying words with the lesser nobles, giving them gifts among which these swords are but the least.'
'Speak to Manwe, then, and all will be forgiven.'
'Would you betray your own brother to the highest king? He would never to us, no matter the deepest hatred seethe in his heart.'
'Perhaps. So speak to father. It cannot go on.'
'Father is with Feanor, as always. Perhaps if their travels ever take them back to Tirion, I will.'
*That is not what we look for, curious one.* Nienna guided him away from them, even further northward. They watched a band of riding elves, each with turmoil at heart, echoes of the deep stirrings of the sea.
*Do you see?* she asked him.
*Yes, I see.*
*And do you understand?*
*... no. I do not think so.*
It was hard to understand the workings of the Vala, but yet Nienna felt that was what she must train him to do. To understand that Galadriel wept from love and not from hatred, that many of these riders were spurred not by the vicious deceptions of Melkor but by the pull of Ulmo. That even the Vala could be cruel , and even the cruel could be pitied.
*Why not?* she asked him, as the vision began to falter.
"I expected fire," Olorin whispered, and the vision broke.
***
She had found that adventuring was not quite as she had imagined it would be. She envisioned endless hours riding on the backs of her beloved horses, not realizing that eventually she would grow as tired as they. She had hoped to lie awake at night, peering through the dim tree light to watch the stars, not understanding how swiftly she would fall asleep, nor that if she attempted to sleep waking, the pebbles lodged beneath her would break her calm. And much as she loved her cousins, Maedhros' brooding but caring manner, Curufin's and Celegorm's unceasing attentions, the twins' quiet demeanor and sudden, surprising banter and Maglor's refreshing melodies, as much as she loved and delighted in all these things she found herself rather wishing for something new.
She said as much to Fingon.
When he had done with his affectionate laughter, he answered, "I should have expected as much from you. You are lucky, Ar-Feiniel, for soon we will be entering the borders of Formenos."
Rightly he spoke, for ere the light waned they were entering a village. As they rode Maglor pulled out one of his instruments, and breathing into it created a song most familiar to the residents of these parts, one that indeed the cousins had sung throughout their journey. It was quite compelling, though the notes trilling high bordered on sweet.
Caranthir glanced restlessly at his brother, perhaps wishing for a song louder and less beautiful.
As they reached the town the people gathered, coming to the doors and windows to catch sight of them. The elder ones held back with respect but the children pushed forward, dodging gracefully around the horses, unheeding of their hooves. A small one of three or four, who was perhaps not yet old enough to keep from being trampled, pushed her way to Aredhel's feet.
"I didn't know that there were princesses!" the girl cried, eyes alight, mouth wide with awe.
Aredhel laughed at the girl's wonder. "If you count, I think you'll find you also have one too many princes."
The girl grinned in response. Leaning down Aredhel brushed her fingertips over her lips and then across the girls fair hair in a sisterly kiss. Her smile even greater now, the girl dropped back.
"Curufin!" one of the common elf-maiden's called as they rode past. She pushed her way to the front. She was beautiful but plain-clothed, and her eyes when she spotted Aredhel were awed, jealous. "Curufin," she mouthed again, but he did not turn to her.
"You'll see a lot of those if you hang around the town," Amrod whispered to Aredhel.
"Although, not as many as he used to have," Amras added, with a smile.
Aredhel frowned and turned away. It was not Curufin's associations with common women that disappointed her. It was the way he had ignored the poor girl, riding high on his steed with his head forward. She was none too pleased with the twins' banter, either, though she had to admire their loyalty to Celegorm. He rode up front near Maedhros and Maglor, seemingly unbothered by the possibility of a maiden calling out his name.
"Come now, cousin," Amrod said, "you'll not have thought that all elf princes were as chaste as your brother Fingon? Or as kindly as Celegorm?"
"Haven't you any feelings for the poor girl?" Aredhel snapped.
"Of course," Amras hastily replied. "We know her well, for at times she hunts with us. Her name is Narwen."
Riding up towards where Maedhros and Fingon rode, Aredhel asked, "May we stop here for the night?"
Curufin coughed nervously. "I think we can make the next village, don't you, Maedhros?"
"But I'm very tired," Aredhel murmured, "and I'd love to meet the townsfolk."
Ignoring the look of delight on Celegorm's face and the way Curufin's was reddening, Maedhros nodded and said, "Certainly. There is a small inn I know of here, which might have its rooms free."
They were lucky there were no other travelers, for the inn was indeed small and the only one of its kind. She had reminded everyone that when camping out in the open she was hardly far away, but Maedhros replied kindly yet firmly that the whole town watched its nobility, and the slightest break in propriety would be found a fault. So she took one room while the other eight shared two, as the inn had only that much space.
She was just readying herself for bed, having finished what seemed like the most luxurious bath she'd ever taken, when Fingon entered her rooms.
"Have you been enjoying the trip, Aredhel?" Fingon asked gently, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
Aredhel sighed and relaxed against him. "I am. But I miss - home."
Fingon nodded, careful not to dislodge her as he shifted to face her. "So do I. But home will be there when you get back, so take your time to enjoy what is here now."
"It also bothered me, today. About Curufin and that maiden. Everyone treated it like it was nothing, like it was okay to pretend to - do all men do that?" Aredhel asked.
"Sometimes women do it, too," Fingon chided her.
Blushing, Aredhel shot back, "You think you're so grown up, don't you? Go ahead and say it, I know you want to." She sat up, thrust her nose in the air and said in a deep voice, "My, Aredhel, you're getting so tall."
"You want to know what I think of you, Ar-Feiniel?" Slowly and with great concentration, Fingon stuck his tongue out at her.
Aredhel laughed and asked, "Will you rest now, too?"
Fingon shook his head. "Perhaps in a bit I shall, but for now I will rejoin the others downstairs. Maglor sings to make us merry, and if some still need help after that, there is some decent wine. Rest now, my favorite sister." Saying so, he rose and left.
A smile on her face, Aredhel began to do just that. Despite her teasing she took comfort in his presence, and a warm, protected feeling suffused her body. Slowly she turned over to douse her light, when out of the corner of her eye she saw a sudden movement. Metal flashed back the dying flame of her candle.
She had just about time to recognize the intruder as a woman before she struck.
The girl was stronger than she, taller and larger-boned with muscles from daily work. Yet Aredhel was quicker, and furthermore skilled, as she had once convinced Turgon to teach her how to fight. Her blows had little force but good location, and she was able to duck most of those returned. Only once was she hit with any force, and while her head still rang from the blow, the girl turned and tried to run.
Aredhel lunged and grabbed her, and she swung around. The girl had the weapon, but made no pretense of using it, and rather kicked with her legs and tried to scramble towards the window.
Stifling a cry as the girl's foot connected behind her knee, Aredhel fell to the floor and rolled, coming up again in front of the girl's escape. Standing up and trying not to limp, she set herself to fight again, but instead the girl let her knife drop to the floor, sat down on Aredhel's bed, and began to cry.
After a moment of stunned surprise, Aredhel walked and sat down next to her, once she had made sure the knife was put away and the lamp kindled again. She turned the girl's face towards her and her guess was confirmed - it was Narwen.
Glad that she had given her brother no reason to rush back to her door, she sat down next to the now harmless maiden and asked, "Why do you wish to hurt me?"
The Narwen looked up, aghast. "No! I did not come here with the intent of harming you. I wish I had not laid hands on you at all, but I wanted to escape - "
"Why did you come here?"
The girl lowered her head and gestured to where the knife was stowed. "I wanted to cut off your hair. Perhaps then Prince Curufin would want me instead of you."
Running a hand over her hair, Aredhel replied, "You might have done me a favor - 'tis very hot to travel with all this hair." When Narwen did not smile or even look up, Aredhel decided to be direct. "Curufin may love me, and there is nothing I can do about that. But I do not love him."
"You do not?"
"No. Should he ask for me, I would refuse. He is my half-cousin, though that alone does not keep me from him. No, it is that we are too alike, he and I. Too hard. We need someone gentle," Aredhel explained, and for a moment, her eyes seemed very distant.
"I am hardly gentle," murmured Narwen, gazing at her callused hand.
"Do I look like I am not?" Aredhel demanded. "I am tired of being judged by my station, and so, I think, are you. If I am not the gentle woman Curufin believes me to be, then perhaps you are."
Narwen stifled a sob. "Why do you say such things to me? Why have you not called in all the men to punish me, or punished me yourself?"
"I don't want to," Aredhel replied simply. "My father's mother Indis once told me that it is not for elves to judge each other's crimes. Of course, within a week I was being denied berries for supper because I had drawn father an epic picture on the walls with the juices..." Her voice trailed off as she realized she had again lost Narwen. "Besides, I was rather hoping you would be my friend."
The girl's head snapped up. "What? Why?"
"Most of my girl friends are too boring to think of attacking me. Of course, Elenwe might have, but she's a mother now, and Galad - " Aredhel cut herself off. "Do you suppose you could teach me how to use a bow and arrow? Celegorm tries, but he's a man and he doesn't know how to teach a woman."
"Yes, of course I will teach you, but - "
"But what?" Aredhel demanded, well aware that she had control of the situation. "This works out perfectly, don't you see? So, Curufin has invited me to see some 'beautiful meadows' tomorrow..."
***
"Galadriel?"
Amarie's sweet voice would not carry far amidst the roaring of the bay, so Galadriel was not surprised when the young elf appeared beside her. "Yes, Amarie? Have you come to check on me?"
Amarie was usually very composed, and Galadriel thought she had never seen her so ill at ease. "Not exactly."
Gently, Galadriel asked, "Have you come to talk to me about my brother?"
"Yes, I - " Amarie stopped, looked down to her feet as though the tassels on her slippers were as fascinating as the sea. "Yes."
"I'm not sure what help I can give you, besides to say what I see."
"Tell me that, then."
"I see he is happy when he is around you. Other things make him happy - being in the caves, riding and hunting, sporting with Turgon and Fingon and my father's other sons. But what you give him is a quiet happiness. You fit together, somehow. You are his softness and he is your strength."
Amarie clutched her hands about herself, trying to savor the words, those which she had felt completely but had not dared to voice. And Galadriel said them with such quiet confidence that it gave Amarie heart. As though they came so naturally that they were new to even Galadriel. A small smile forming on her lips, Amarie said, "I have never felt this way. It has come upon me all of a sudden, and I do not wish it to ever leave."
"Let me show you something, Amarie. In a little while Telperion will wane and the stars will shine their brightest over the sea. And then, if you look closely, you can see that light reflecting in the waves."
Amarie, confused, said nothing.
"When I watch it, it seems like the most beautiful thing Iluvatar ever created, and it feels like I would rather gaze upon it forever than move from where I sit. And yet, when the last pocket of light has been swallowed by Laurelin, I can stir with ease. I can leave and not watch the shore for several days, I can forget what seemed to be the most perfect beauty."
"I'm not sure I understand your council," Amarie said.
"What we love comes and goes. What seems a certainty can be gone with the change of mood. You will know what you must cling to not because it is what you love, but because it is what you are."
"So you're saying, if Finrod comes to me - "
"Oh, he will come to you. I do not doubt that."
" - then his love should not be enough?"
Galadriel smiled. "It is enough for now."
Amarie sighed, as much of her frustration as she'd let show. "What other time is there?"
Galadriel seemed to be swaying towards the ocean, leaning in and out with each wave. "There is the future. A future. A path, and he will help you pick the right one - "
"Galadriel?"
Galadriel tore her eyes from the ocean at once, panicked and uncertain. "What have I just said to you?"
Amarie's face mirrored Galadriel's. "Are you feeling well, Galadriel? You look very pale."
"I thought for a moment, as I watched the sea, that he was speaking to me..." Galadriel shook her head. "You are right, friend Amarie, perhaps it is best if I go indoors for a while."
"I will come with you."
"No," Galadriel replied, "you should wait here." She looked out into the mainland, saw two figures walking close together, and though she could not see who they were, she thought she knew. "It may be tonight."
It was indeed Finrod who she saw, but he did not see her, or Amarie, as he walked with Turgon absorbed in his thoughts.
"Tell me again the story of how you met Elenwe? How you - " Finrod coughed quickly, "approached her? Forgive me, cousin, but we always did everything together, and now it seems you have rushed ahead of me. So really it is all your fault that you must give your silly kinsman some guidance."
"Gratefully I do so," Turgon replied. He paused to collect his words and memories. "If you'll remember, Elenwe was a friend of Aredhel's, for most of Aredhel's friends are older, like your sister and the sons of Feanor. Long did I watch Elenwe for she is very beautiful, but nothing did I say. Aye, I was planning to speak to her, truly I was. I was!" he repeated at Finrod's laugh. "I just rather forgot what I meant to say when she was near me."
"And what then, Turgon?"
"Well Aredhel, you'll have realized, is quite perceptive, and she confronted me about the look in my eyes whenever Elenwe guested with us. Then she said that if I would like my tongue untied - she'd already spent too much time with Feanor's sons by then - she would get Elenwe to do so, for a price."
"A price?" Finrod asked, surprised.
"Aye, a price, and I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this between us. I wouldn't like my father knowing that I taught his only daughter how to fight."
"How to fight?" Finrod echoed. "Oh, I think he knows."
"What mean you?"
"Why else would he have let her ride with the sons of Feanor?"
Turgon smiled. "Perhaps he does know, at that."
"I was jesting, cousin!"
"So was I!" Turgon laughed. "I hardly believe the enmity between the houses runs that deep. I believe that most of them would rather mate her than maim her."
"You mention mating..."
"Right. So I agreed that I would teach her the skills of self-defense, against both elf and beast, and perhaps also the bow and arrow, though I never got around to that."
"Why didn't you? I can't imagine Aredhel letting you forget."
"My dear Finrod," Turgon replied, somewhat patronizingly, "when one marries one becomes suddenly quite busy."
Laughing, Finrod pressed, "But I still don't understand how you gained the strength to approach Elenwe."
"I didn't, that's the point. The very night I made my deal with Aredhel, Elenwe came up to me, pulled my face down to where she could reach me, and gave me the most thorough kiss I'd ever received."
"Elenwe!" Finrod exclaimed. "I can't imagine her doing a thing like that at all."
"Oh, neither could I, then. But I've found that one will do all sorts of uncharacteristic things for love."
"Ah," Finrod nodded as if he had found the answers to everything that had ever troubled him. "So that's why I found you that one day wearing a necklace and waiting quite calmly while Idril painted your face."
Turgon grew quite red but he answered with dignity, "She wanted to know why her mother always wore it but her father did not. She said it was very unfair. Quite takes after Aredhel, that one does."
They lapsed into a companionable silence as Finrod considered Turgon's words. Turgon himself smiled fondly as he recalled the moments that the conversation had brought to mind. He remembered Elenwe after the ceremony, no longer bold but nervous, pausing at the threshold to the door. He had taken her hand, asked "Follow me?" She released a deep breath and stepped into his arms.
Elenwe always looked beautiful, Turgon thought, whether calm or fiery, trembling, uncertain or bold. So beautiful, lying upon his bed with nothing but her long hair to clothe her.
But, Turgon reminded himself, breaking from his reverie, not every love was like his own. Not every elf was Elenwe, though of course Finrod was probably not so thickheaded as Turgon himself could be. Yet love did not work out for everyone.
Turgon remembered how shadowed Fingon had looked, present at his younger brother's joining but standing alone. Turgon had gone to him and said lightly, "I hope that one day soon I may stand where you stand now, and watch you shine in your happiness." But Fingon had only sighed, his brow furrowing until his face took on a mien so somber and unusual that Turgon had not forgotten it. Then Fingon gave his congratulations to his brother, and went to stand with Aredhel, who slipped an arm around his waist with a look too knowing for her years.
"Should I go to her?" Finrod asked at last, and Turgon studied him.
"I do not know her mind, my friend, but I have always regretted most the flower that never has the chance to blossom, that is crushed before it opens. There is always the chance that she may embrace you like the light. Yes, go to her."
Finrod nodded, although he did not move immediately. "You have never spoken to me thus before, Turgon."
"Well," replied Turgon, evenly, "the smell of you after days on a horse without rain has never quite moved me to poetry."
Finrod laughed, and then as though he refused to hesitate he wrapped his arms around his cousin and hugged him fiercely. Just as quickly, he pulled his arms back and hurried away, in what a very surprised Turgon assumed was the direction of Amarie.
***
The slight touch of a breeze where his tunic lay open could have been what awoke him, but to Fingon it felt like hesitating fingertips. He did not move his eyes until the last vestiges of warmth had vanished from the hollow of his throat. When no hand, no warmth returned, he shifted his gaze to where Maedhros sat innocently at the window.
"Awake before me as always, cousin," Fingon said suddenly, but of course Maedhros did not startle.
"The rest of us slept only briefly, for there is little pleasure in dreams when you cannot watch the stars as well. But perhaps we were not as tired as you and Aredhel."
"I take it, then, that she is not up?"
"Not up? She is up, and away to the meadows with Curufin."
This seemed to shock Fingon. "Curufin?"
"She seemed very eager to go with him," Maedhros mused. "I wonder if she has chosen."
Fingon turned towards the window so Maedhros wouldn't see how much the thought displeased him. At length he asked, "And how does this delay bode for our travels?"
"In a few days we will reach my father's dwellings," Maedhros replied with a wave of his hand. "It is of no consequence."
"What shall we do while we wait for the others to return?"
Something moved in the depths of Maedhros' eyes, and it was a long moment before he answered, "I had planned to go visiting. As you must know, you can never pay too much attention to your subjects."
"And the others?"
"Celegorm and the twins have gone out on a brief hunting trip with some of the residents of these parts. Curufin and Aredhel, as I said before, are heading for the meadows. And I believe Maglor is at this moment in the drinking room downstairs, trying to get Caranthir to sing."
Fingon chuckled. "I wish him great luck in that - I'm sure he'll need it."
Maedhros watched how the light struck him through the window, how the shadows fell on the floorboards and contrasted with his laughter. "And where - what shall you do this day?"
Fingon turned to him, his face now shaded, and said, "I shall go with you, of course."
Neither of them moved, and Maedhros thought that if he took but a few steps, he could feel again the kiss which had lingered on his lips for many days. He thought that he could reach again to the tunic guarding the warm skin of Fingon's chest and slip beneath its defenses. But in truth there was no defense, no self-protection, nothing between them besides what Maedhros put there. How many times could he be asked to reject his cousin's offering, how many times could he do right and turn himself from the embrace? Oh, father, he thought. If you knew how much you ask of me...
"You shall?" he asked Fingon, with a curt nod that was meant less as a forbidding gesture and more of a way to hide his own eyes. He forced himself to think of other things. They'd need to start with Mithwen's household, for she was held in highest esteem in this town, then perhaps to Linedhel's, for he was the eldest and were it not for the grey maiden he would be the leader of this ordinary town. He looked back up at Fingon, who was watching him with ill-concealed disappointment. "Then come."
***