Varnë sat amid the ruins of Formenos, waiting for Nelyafinwë and Makalaurë to return. As soon as the tunnels into the lower levels of the city had been reopened, the pair had vanished within, searching for their father. They had been gone for what seemed like hours, but without the Trees, who could tell?
"Varnë," said a familiar voice from behind her. She turned to see her father, Ehtur.
"Father?"
"I know you are grieved by the loss of Finwë," Ehtur said, "but all this brooding will not help."
"You do not know that he is dead," said Varnë, suddenly angry, "and unless you have something better for me to do, I see no problem with 'brooding'."
"You could comfort Raumo," he said, oblivious to her rage. "He had to leave his favourite horse behind, and is very distraught to discover that it has died."
Varnë stared at him. "You… want me… to comfort… my brother? Do I not grieve as well?"
"He is younger than you," Ehtur began, but Varnë had had enough. She rose abruptly to her feet.
"I am going to find Cáno," she said, and started towards the tunnel, ignoring her father's call to her to come back. Before she could reach the entrance, however, Makalaurë came out, head bowed. She rushed over to him. "Cáno! Did you find-?"
"We did," said Nelyafinwë from just behind him. Varnë turned, and gasped. The eldest son of Fëanaro stepped out of the dark tunnel and lowered the broken body of his grandfather to the broken stone of the courtyard. The sound of the King's armour touching the ground filled the suddenly silent city.
"Finwë is fallen," said Nelyafinwë, his voice thick with tears. "We found him before the door of the deepest vault. That door had been torn aside, and the Silmarilli, greatest of the treasures of the Noldor, stolen from within. But what are treasures, when the King is slain?" He shook his head, and looked at Finwë.
"Grandfather, you were slain here, first of all the Eldar in Aman. To the Halls of Mandos we commend your spirit, that you may be reunited with Míriel Serindë, your first wife and beloved. We…" He shook his head and knelt by Finwë's body, overcome with sorrow. In silence, the other sons of Fëanaro moved to his side, comforting him and grieving in the same moment. Only Morifinwë did not weep. In his eyes burnt a fire unlike anyone's save his father, and Varnë knew, from the way he glared southwards, that his mind was already filled with thoughts of vengeance.
After what felt like an age, Nelyafinwë took a lantern from his brother and rose to his feet. "Makalaurë," he said, "lead the people by foot back to Tirion. I do not think Melkor – for surely this is his work – will trouble you."
Makalaurë straightened. "I will, brother," he said, and then, more hesitantly, "What will you be doing, Russandol?"
"I will require a horse," replied Nelyafinwë, "for I will ride directly across the plains to bring word of this to Father, and to the Valar. Who has a steed to lend to me?"
There was silence for an uneasy moment. All had lost much in the destruction of the city, and few would give up more. But one would. "You may take my horse," said Rávasalquë, Varnë's mother. All eyes in the city turned to look at the golden-haired Vanya, who shrugged. "Súrë is swift, if not so swift as you are used to."
"I thank you, Rávasalquë," said Nelyafinwë. "My house will ever be in your debt."
"Nay, lord," said Rávasalquë, and Varnë realised with a start that Nelyafinwë was now their leader by birthright, "there is no debt. I am certain you would do the same for me is I required it."
Nelyafinwë smiled, ignoring a mutter from his brother Curufinwë that Varnë heard as '… wouldn't give my horse up for anyone…'. "I thank you, then, lady, and will ever strive to maintain friendship between our houses."
In spite of the seriousness of the moment, Varnë couldn't help glancing at Makalaurë. In that same moment he looked over at her, and on meeting her gaze, smiled slightly. She returned the smile, and then looked away, slightly embarrassed.
X
Meldon sat in Arafinwë's house and stared gloomily at the wall. The room was well lit, with both glowing crystals and the less efficient flame-lanterns that had had to be made in such numbers in the short time since the death of the Trees. Outside, the streets were filled with Noldor, all rushing up to the square below the Mindon Eldaliéva, the square where Fëanaro had drawn his sword on Nolofinwë, and where he had now returned, suddenly. The people of Tirion knew that he wasn't allowed to be there – that his exile had not yet been revoked. They didn't care. They wanted to hear him anyway.
Meldon shook his head. "It's stupid," he muttered.
"What is?" said Cenirë from behind him. He turned, waving one hand to indicate the window.
"This. They're all running up to hear the great Fëanaro speak, and why? Because his father got killed by Melkor. All he's going to do is grieve."
"Don't be so sure," said Cenirë. When Meldon frowned at her, she explained. "Don't you remember Fëanaro's ways at all? He won't just grieve – he'll call for vengeance."
"Vengeance?" Meldon snorted. "Against who? Melkor is gone, he's left these shores far behind. He's back in Middle-earth, and as long as he stays there, I don't care what he does."
"But Fëanaro will," said Cenirë, her eyes glinting. "He'll lead us over the sea to Middle-earth. I know it."
Meldon stared at his sister… and then it hit him. "You've been talking to Varnë, haven't you?"
Cenirë nodded. "She came back with the people of Formenos, and she says that Makalaurë had been discussing this plan all the way down the Pelóri."
"Cenirë…" Meldon shook his head. "How would Makalaurë know what his father planned? Fëanaro was in Valmar when Formenos was attacked, and the only messenger going either way was Nelyafinwë."
Cenirë looked uncertain for a moment. "Well… maybe he guessed." Reaching out, she grabbed Meldon's sleeve, tugging at it. "Come on, Meldon, everyone else has gone."
That surprised him. "Everyone? I'd've thought Ingoldo would have…"
"He was the first to leave," his sister replied. "Everyone else followed him, even Artaresto."
"Artaresto went?" That surprised Meldon even more. The second son of Arafinwë was usually slow and thoughtful, and for him to rush off to an event like this was very unusual. Meldon nodded. He'd made up his mind.
"All right. We'll go."
Cenirë grinned. "I knew you'd agree!" she said, and grabbed a crystal light from its niche in the wall. "Come on, get a light and get moving."
Meldon rolled his eyes. "Yes, Cenirë," he said, lifting a crystal of his own and standing up. Brushing his tunic with his hand to flatten the creases, he followed his energetic sister out of the house, closing the door behind him to keep the cool air of the long night out.
This chapter is shorter than I intended. I reached what I consider a good cutoff point, and I really don't feel up to attempting Fëanaro's speech in this chapter. It will probably take up all of the next chapter anyway.
Yes, Curufinwë's line is explicit foreshadowing to the Lay of Leithian.
Reviews are still appreciated, just to let me know if anyone's reading this thing.
Disclaimer: All locations and major events, and all characters except for the families of Meldon and Varnë, belong to JRR Tolkien in spirit, and the Tolkien Estate legally. No harm is intended to them by the writing of this work.
Quenya Vocabulary - Words and names in Quenya will be entered into this list in the first chapter they appear in. Words which should be known from reading the Silmarillion will not be added.
Silmarilli - Silmarils
Súrë - Wind, the name of Rávasalquë's horse.
Artaresto - Orodreth. There are several Quenya names given for Orodreth, none of them entirely canonical, but this is the one that I chose to use.
Cloaked Eagle