I do not own Valinor, the sons of Feonor, or the events of "The Silmarillion."

Please do not sue, I make no monetary gain from this.

Narkal went to Tarman first, whom Lathwinn still stood over. He looked down upon the fallen body of his brother while the other Laquendi gathered round, then bent and scooped up his brother's form into his arms. Then he walked the path cleared for him by the Laquendi who now followed him save for Lathwinn. She went ahead eyes, ears, and spirit alert for danger. Her form seemed to brighten lighting dust and stone before her, but Narkal's skin, once dim as he'd bowed his head in despair, now burned brighter than any of the Laquendi had seen it burn before like a pale stone gleaming in the moonlight.

He walked as straight as his bent back allowed him stare and jaw grimly set. Sarnin followed close beside him awe and concern warring in her gaze fixed upon him. Lastanan followed his aunt just a step behind her heels scanning the backs of those ahead of him as well as the walls around, sky above, and path before them. Ranthalion followed him eyes down and squinted. He concentrated not on their surroundings, but on the spirits of his siblings, aunt, and Narkal. He especially attended to the last fearful a bolt of rage could split the grief thickening the air around the Noldo like the heavy damp before a thunderstorm. He did not trust the stranger's fondness for them all, when he was now concentrating on those so dear who had been taken from him. Ranthalion remembered too well his own spirit during the days Lathwinn had been lost to him and he'd raced into the east ready to kill anyone and anything he thought that got in his way save a tree that couldn't move out of it.

Melarbeth followed two steps behind Ranthalion his own movements slow and gaze down and inward in memory. His mind was not on their surroundings or danger. He studied his memories of the elves he had helped uncover and ready for burial that day. All of them he and Lastanan had found felled or born down by orc weapons as if they'd been facing the danger not away from it. He had spent the most time with those dead elves' brother for many years now helping Sarnhael find obsidian to form weapons to protect their family, people, and home. His aunt had said to consider Sarnhael one of them as had Sarnhael himself, so he'd taken them at their words.

He had worked with the once-Noldo mostly in silence only speaking to ask questions on if the stone he'd found was suitable. Then he'd listened to Sarnhael's explanations on if it was or was not. "Narkal" he found an odd name for the elf he had so worked with whom he'd guided into water while others fought a forest fire started by lightning hitting dry brush. His aunt had come to find them both later and helped wake the strange elf from the wide-eyed stupor he'd been in since seeing the red flames and smelling the smoke wafting toward them from the distance they'd been from its starting place. Most of his own people held fire in fear and disgust for it damaged trees, plants, and animals. They also thought they had a lack of for it. They dried and baked fruit and herb in the sun only in the sun. They liked their drinks cold. Their light to come from the stars, and now sun and moon. In the winter their heat came from one another and beasts also longing to share their hiding places from the wind and warmth. He knew now there was indeed a life, a place, a family this ellon he'd also come to respect had had he had not known all the years they worked together and that he was now cut off from more than ever. He could tell this hurt him. And he mourned with him. He had once mourned with his mother and father for his siblings they'd lost before he was born, though he had since gained those siblings back and lost his parents. Yes, he was no stranger to grief, and it perhaps made him feel that of the ellon he'd worked so long and often beside even more as he trailed farther behind him than others now.

Manpalan had a tight throat and downward gaze. He did not know the way of the Noldor well. He had not been drawn to Narkal like Lathwinn, his aunt, or Melarbeth. He had known battle and death since Melkor's return had sliced through the threads of his happy life a second time after his parents had already died from an escapee of what seemed his and Sauron's work on other once happy creatures. Melkor's coming had brought to pass all his sister and Melian in Doriath had warned and more. And these Noldo had helped, but not entirely out of kindness to them, but for their own reasons after slaying their own kin. Narkal had seemed angry with himself, these brothers he now buried, and all their people which had confused Manpalan all the more on how to feel about them. He was glad to let the others guard their way and act to comfort him while he pondered his own understanding of the matter. He had earlier, gone to find a place to bury Sarnhael's kin and thus left the scene of the Noldo's grief for a time as that part of the canyon had become. One thing he was sure of, he hadn't wanted these dead Noldo to be found and desecrated by Morgoth's forces, whom he knew well how he felt about, how they all, Noldo, Sindarin, or Laqueindi, felt about.

They turned a few more bends in the canyon Narkal having memorized some strange, unique formations in the rocks to mark as landmarks to find his way back to the trench dug into the sand and that he and Sarnin had lined with stones. He had already removed his green cloak and laid it out sideways so as not to lay at least some of his brothers heads on stone and snapped his head to look upon Sarnin in surprised when she did the same covering the area their heads would. Lathwinn quickly removed her own to cover the small space at the end still left bare so their feet would also not just lie on stone. Her brothers looked toward her and her aunt, and she said "I am Lathwinn and capable of crossing mountains and plains without being seen and we shall all guard her and Narkal. Lastanan sighed, but nodded. Ranthalion's brows drew tight together, but he remained silent. Melarbeth's face softened only further. Manplan's face grew pinched, but he looked down into the grave, though his eyes shut when Narkal laid his brother down.

When he stood back up again, Narkal still stared down at his brother lying upon Green Ossiriand cloth spread over a floor of sand and stone. In a deep tight voice, Narkal spoke. "Here lies Tarman who was held to my chest first and last …"

The others turned their stares upon him as he continued a small smile pressing against the tightness of his face. "Father was holding mother's hands thanking her for another beautiful, strong, big son. Thus, the lady who'd just finished cleaning and wrapping my brother handed him to me. I stared into his face pressing him close and after a moment his crying stopped as he stared back into my eyes." Narkal fell silent a moment. Manpalan lifted his head and fixed his gaze upon him. Narkal's voice broke as he went on. "We were always closest, even after the others came, he followed me as he grew older, and I tried to teach him what I knew. But he did not take to the forge …"

The Laqueindi's eyebrows rose. Those who had been looking away glanced at him. They had never heard the once-Noldo reference forge or fire successfully before. Narkal went on as if he hadn't noticed. "He listened and tried, but I saw his heart was not in it like mine. He liked managing things handing me tools, buying the metals and fuel so I could complete my creations without stopping. He felt a part of my work and successes that way. I had more time to smith and turned out more wonder with him taking care of such things."

The Noldo's smile grew wider. "When the others were born, he managed them as well. He took Rombar to, and stayed and listened in on, all his lessons to report to our parents and me his progress. Then he escorted the twins to their trips to the mountains, and they and Ascarant to their riding lessons and times with their athletics trainers." Narkal's smile collapsed. His chin dipped nearer his chest. "He looked after the others' packing, when it was decided we would all follow Feonor here until they left, and he escorted them while I finished packing more thoroughly. He was there during their first battle on the ships when I was not. He stayed with them during our first battle with the enemy's forces while I fell behind with a wounded leg. It was so natural to tell him to care for them, when I knew the enemy was set on capturing me and would go through them all to do so if they had to. When he betrayed me, I was so angry even as I heard the anguish in his voice and saw it in his face after the amazement passed." Narkal fell silent. Tears flowed from his eyes. He rocked forward then back slightly before stating, "I truly think he thought me dead! And he would not have to betray me to follow that terrible law. They had already sworn to follow all of the commands of Feonor and his sons as well as aid them in their quest before we left Valinor's shores!"

Narkal fell to his knees and covered his face on the edge of that grave. Sarnin placed a hand on his shoulder as he bent over and cried over the grave his tears landing on his brother's still chest. Her voice was soft, yet there was a hint of sternness in it, "We have to carry the others here too …"

Narkal stood up and nodded. "Yes, they should all lie beside him."

They walked back and toward Rombar who'd made it closest to the bend in the canyon they rounded to see him still lying there. Lathwinn's brothers had had to remove him from his horse as well as the orcs. The horses also lay apart and would probably be covered with rocks in the canyon while the orcs had been dragged and carried up out of the canyon to lie beneath the sky they had hated so much. The horses, the elves thought, thought deserved a resting place away from the cause of their deaths and terrors in life, the orcs should be away from where waters might flow through the canyon so as not to ever defile them, though.

Narkal bent down before Rombar, the only one of his brothers with light hair. He gazed upon his still, grey, wide-eyed face a moment. "So gentle a soul to take part in war, yet he would not be parted from Maglor his beloved teacher." Narkal swept his arms under and lifted his brother before looking back over the now mostly bare space with the few dotted bodies of the others and their horses. He whispered. "I'll be back for you others soon." Then turned and walked away with the Laquinde trailing behind him again.

He spoke now while carrying Rombar to the grave. "Rombar was held first by Tarman, he moved between me and the elleth who'd helped my mother give birth and took him quickly in delight and curiosity. I glared at him then, and he gave Rombar to me before our mother demanded him. Father then stared at us both for making him wait and become fourth to hold his own, third-born, son."

Narkal walked in silence until he reached the grave. He had laid Tarman out in an odd way. Folding one arm, the left, over his chest placing the hand over the still heart, but laying flat, out and downward, the right arm. Upon this, he now laid Rombar. Then he whispered over them both. "First of us to hold him, Tarman, now until your spirits are re-clothed, you will be the last."

Sarnin shivered. Lathwinn laid a hand upon her shoulder. The four living brothers stared at the back of the Noldo's head wondering which of them might later play this part he did now, and which them might first be in the grave. Could they forever escape such a fate.

Narkal gazed down upon Narkal and Tarman as he continued. "It was in the end, perhaps for the best, for once Rombar began to move it seemed they were inseparable. My mother took Rombar to a party with the rest of us in Feonor's house before he could even walk …" Narkal's voice trailed off. A long moment passed before he continued. "It was my fault. I befriended Feonor first. I even thought of him as my 'master' then in creating things with hammer and tongs. His son Maglor played the harp that night. Rombar escaped out listening mother to crawl to the harp. All let him. Many laughed. Even Maglor smiled at his approach. Rombar sat up within his own short-arm's reach of the instrument and just listened staring at the fingers plucking the strings with the largest smile we'd seen upon his face. We stopped laughing to listen with him. When Maglor finished, and the harp strings went still, Rombar leaned forward and touched them himself. Then he plucked it. The sound was not awful, but sweet. There and then Maglor offered to teach him. Tarman took him to all his lessons including those with other masters of other instruments for his love for music was never satisfied."

Narkal fell silent again and shook his head. "Of course … I knew when Maglor swore to accompany his father, Rombar was doomed. He'd never let his first and most beloved teacher, who deeply loved him in return, go to possible doom or triumph without him. I think though, the music of Feonor's voice enchanted him as well. He would seek new sights and sounds, even tastes and scents, before trying to compose music capturing the essence of the sea under a clouded sky, a field in sunlight just before harvest, mountains beneath the stars … I knew upon hearing Feonor speak of them, he'd want to do the same for these vast lands. He fought less well than any of us, but he blew the trumpet in a way to signal charge and retreat, so that even if we forgot the signals, we'd understand just from the blasts radiating in our chest."

Narkal bowed his head over the grave and his voice broke again. "Oh Rombar … how will they know now?"

There was a longer time on his knees now before the grave before he sighed and rose to his feet clenching his hands at his sides. He raised his head and stared up into the sky before saying "Now, it is time to bring the twins."

Now, he spoke of those they sought on their way to them away from the grave. "Tarman and I both held the twins before anyone else in our family. Rombar was playing music first to calm mother and then to celebrate his new brothers first breaths and sights of the world. Father was busy clasping mother's hand while praising her for bringing forth two small, but obviously strong sons. I held Thalacam and felt the strength in his hand smaller than Tarman and Rombar's had been at birth, but just as strong. I also heard the strength of his cry. Tarman held Palahen hearing the same. Rombar had already given up playing the music and stood in the doorway watching. Then Tarman and I handed them to mother and father. Then they changed which twin they held. Their cries were not as loud in mother's arms, but they did not fall silent until father set them both beside each other on a blanket. Then they turned their gazes upon each other, let their lips press shut, and reached out their hands to touch their fingertips."

He paused in his steps having come upon the twins' bodies their hands seeming to reach out to touch but with at least an arms-reach separating their fingertips. Lastanan stopped at Narkal's side. He turned his head toward the living Noldo and whispered, "Would you like me to pick one up as well, so they will not have to be separated?"

Narkal sucked in a sudden breath. Then he bowed his head and nodded.

God bless

ScribeofHeroes