Chapter 5
Helluin Maeg-mórmenel¹ was the Sindarin translation by which she was known in the Mortal Lands. Her father had chosen to name her for Helluin, likening her shocking blue eyes to the bright blue star that Varda had set in the old north as a challenge to Melkor ere the Eldar first awakened at Cuiviénen. The more descriptive after-name that her mother had created translated as "Piercing the Dark Heavens" and was a testament to the soul-arresting intensity of her glance, a cerulean gaze that fairly burned against the midnight black of her hair. Now that gaze turned inward as she stood pensive, reviewing the memories of her long life. Not for the first time Helluin asked herself why she had e'er come back. ¹(Helluin, the blue star, Sirius, lit. trans held(naked) + luin (blue) The -ld resolves to –l at the partition in proper names. Maeg (piercing) - mór (dark, black) + menel (the heavens). Sindarin see Sil. App.)
She had been born amidst the Host of Finwë as they marched through Middle Earth from Cuiviénen to Aman, which she had reached at the age of 230, reckoning in years of the sun though their time was yet to come. She recalled her early life 'neath the stars, when they and the Quendi were young and every moment brought the wonder of some new discovery along the road. There had been so much to see and so many places to explore. Had the stars truly been so bright? Had the lands truly been so enticing?
One incident that she recalled now had been a vision that had come upon her in a forest east of the Blue Mountains, the Ered Luin. 'Neath ancient boles she had seemed to dream, and in her dream she had glimpsed a fell warrior, unsettlingly like in face unto herself though far, far older, armored and armed with bow and sword and a bright ring. The apparition had knelt at her side and stretched out a tentative hand. Surprisingly gentle, the touch was almost a caress of her cheek. They had stared at each other, face to face, and at last the warrior had visited a sad smile upon her ere she rose and vanished. It had been but one of many strange events in Middle Earth that remained yet unexplained, but in those moments she had felt a depth of connection, many orders of magnitude deeper than any other she had experienced. In its wake the bonds of friendship and kinship paled, and though not less valuable, had been put upon a scale and by comparison measured in the depth of her spirit. And somewhere in those depths, unknown to her waking mind, she resolved to seek such connection again. But the host had moved on.
Though the march had taken centuries, there had ne'er seemed to be enough time. Helluin had been tormented by the knowledge that uncounted mysteries were being left behind. There were vast lands she would ne'er glimpse, wondrous creatures she would ne'er see, foreign languages she would ne'er learn, and myriad plants she would ne'er understand. In the wake of her travel experiences, her imagination had run rampant. She had been constantly torn 'twixt looking ahead to what was next, and staring behind to see what had been missed.
With the Host of the Noldor she had come to the Undying Lands. There in Aman Helluin had dwelt, gaining in knowledge and power through the Age of the Trees. True to character, once there she'd immediately set about discovering its secrets. Seldom was she still in the first millennium of her life in Aman. From the heights of the Pelori in the east, to the shores of Ekkaia, the Outer Sea in the west she wandered, learning the shapes of the land. In the furthest west, past the Halls of Mandos, she came one day to the home of Nienna, a Valier even more solitary than herself, and from her windows Helluin looked beyond the Walls of Night. Indeed, Nienna became closer in friendship to Helluin than did any other in that time. The pair would oft times sit in a comfortable silence for days at a stretch, gazing beyond the boundaries of Eä and into the black void of the Eternal Night. And through Nienna, Helluin first made the acquaintance of the Maia, Olórin.
To the creatures in the Undying Lands she became familiar, trading tidings of the world with sea birds and the secrets of the deeps with porpoise and seal. With Nahar and his herd she spoke, though she neither hunt nor rode in Aman. Counsel she took with the Eagles of Manwë, meeting them high upon dizzying precipices in the Pelori that no other of the Eldar had explored. They, noble spirits of the air, honored her and brought her tidings, of the Teleri upon Tol Eressëa when they arrived 'nigh the Undying Lands, and at times even of the Sindar still in Beleriand. They were the first to reveal to Helluin that the Host of Olwë had built ships and sailed at last from the Lonely Isle to Aman.
During those travels she was for the most part alone with her thoughts, but the Eldar gravitated to the companionship they found amongst others of their kind, and they had begun in Valinor a great work. Whilst Helluin roamed as she had done in Middle Earth all her life, the Eldar raised the great hill of Túna, and upon it built the fair city of Tirion.
When she, coming to the Calacirya after three centuries first saw the Elven City, she had been amazed. What had possessed her kind thusly, (she had wondered), to build such towers and edifices, so unnatural and self-congratulatory, fair and shapely though they were? She saw them as but imitations of Valmar, the city of the Valar, right down to the White Tree, Galathilion, created by Yavanna in the image of Telperion. Why bother with imitations when the real thing lay all about so near at hand? Helluin had shaken her head in consternation; the Eldar had aggrandized themselves with fine robes and gems, gold and silver, and had turned their focus inwards to themselves and their civilization. She had soon left Tirion and returned to her exploring, for she had found the city stifling.
In her attitudes, Helluin was an anachronism of sorts; she favored the works of those divine crafts she would ne'er attain above any she might learn. What clever tracery wrought in silver or gold could approach the beauty of the patterns of frost upon a leaf? What cunningly shaped gem could compete with the sparkle in a squirrel's beady eye? In the Valar's creation of the natural world did Helluin e'er find the greatest inspiration and awe; star and comet, cloud and rain, sky and sea, mountain and plain, these were her unclaimable treasures. To Helluin the works of Elven craft could in no way compete with the least of the olvar or the kelvar, for of Ilúvatar these had the spark of life. No hand of the Eldar would e'er bring to life a bird, darting and swooping on the wing, or singing its song whilst perched upon her finger. The most profound difference 'twixt Helluin and her people was her lack of the desire of possession. 'Naught did she crave to name unto herself alone, and little did she seek after a maker's pride in crafting.
In her second millennium in Aman she spent much time upon Corollaire¹, at the western gates of Valmar, basking in the Light of the Trees. There lay the Vats of Varda wherein were stored the shining silver dews of Telperion and the golden rains of Laurelin. The brilliant light of them went up to the heavens and lit the Undying Lands with their radiance. Helluin found this display the penultimate wonder of wonders and couldn't stay away, returning again and again from her wanderings. Indeed Varda herself saw and indulged this behavior. In Helluin the Valier discerned the preservation of the native wonder and awe of creation that had been at first the nature of all the Quendi. She thought it worthwhile that such honest reverence be preserved as the Eldar of Aman changed, and so she hindered not Helluin's comings to Ezellohar¹. ¹(Corollairë = Ezellohar, The Green Mound or Ever-Summer. Quenya)
Helluin felt herself drawn thither, the attraction irresistible, and in that time she dared a thing no other e'er would, and whether 'twas a grace extended to herself alone, or simply that she alone was not cowed by the possibility, none would e'er know. She questioned not the inspiration, which had appeared full wrought within her as it were a compulsion.
Ne'er in all her life had Helluin felt such bliss as when she stood 'neath the Trees at the sixth and twelfth hours, letting their mingled droplets fall upon her naked body and coat her in radiant silver and gold. Although those dews would scorch forthwith any raiment she might have worn, by some blessing of the Valar she herself felt no discomfort from their heats. In those times visions came upon her, lifting her to soar so that she might see below her the wonders of Arda that drew her footsteps hither and yon. Perhaps the brilliance of the Two Trees wrought some change within her, for afterwards in times of great feeling her eyes would blaze with their own light, far in excess of their native habit. Whilst many of the Calaquendi reflected the Holy Light in their eyes, but few amongst them projected their own radiance. Of those that did, the illumination was invariably a ril¹ of silver or gold. The blue fire that took life in Helluin's eyes was a characteristic that she shared with only one other, one exalted in all of Aman. ¹(ril, brilliance Quenya)
'Twas during her third millennium in Aman that Helluin met Arandil¹ of the Vanyar, faithful liege of King Ingwë. She had returned to Tirion, intending to visit again with the Teleri, who had created many swan-prowed boats. At the Bay of Eldamar they had established Alqualondë, their city and the haven of their ships. She had stopped for sustenance in Tirion, and to rest briefly from her travels ere she made her way thence to the coast. By some fate she had sat in a courtyard where music was played. ¹(Arandil, "Devoted to the King" = Aran(king) + (-n)dil(one devoted to) Quenya)
In Tirion she heard the songs of Arandil, playing upon a harp of gold and singing praises to Varda for the gift of her stars. For the first time, Helluin felt that the value of those things learnt in Tirion could rival those of the natural world she so loved. Arandil's words painted fair pictures in her mind. Her heart was moved, and for the first time, Helluin knew love. For the first time she found herself craving the company of another, and reveling in the bliss that such company could bring. She found him caring, compassionate, subtle, and wise. He found her direct, unspoiled, caring nothing for intrigues, and vigorous of spirit beyond any elleth he had e'er met. Aside from this, she was mesmerizingly beautiful, her hair pure black rather than silver, golden, or chestnut, her eyes blazing blue rather than sea grey. They shared the tender communion of couples, intimacies of touch, spirit, and glance. Many were the hours they spent in conversation or in silence together, or in the company of friends. And yet ne'er did they marry, nor did they produce offspring of their union. Perhaps 'twas because each had already held in their hearts a deeper love.
Long she dwelt with Arandil, and in that time learnt much that the Valar and the Maiar would teach. Through Arandil she met many in the Blessed Realm beyond those of the Noldor she had known. Many were the Vanyar she befriended, and many younger Noldor who had been born in Aman as well. She discovered that her king had sons and grandchildren. She also discovered that she had a younger brother, Verinno¹, and sister, Elvearille², whom she came to love dearly. ¹(Verinno, Bold Hearted Verya, root ver- (bold), + -inno (of heart, gen. n.) Quenya) ²(Elvearille, Star Bright Elvea (starlike) + rille(bright) Quenya)
From Arandil she acquired the warmth of heart towards others that had only been abstract before. Yet ne'er did she lose her lust for exploring. That drive was only for a time given to acquiring knowledge and skills, rather than observation and travel. She was for the most part content, but 'neath her contentment lived her need to see new sights and explore new places. In contrast, Arandil was wholly content in Aman. His joy came from serving his lord and the Valar. Eventually these basic differences brought about the sundering of Arandil and Helluin. She found herself needing to travel the lands beyond the city, or to spend time in Alqualondë amongst the Teleri. And of course there were her pilgrimages up Taniquétal and to Corollairë where stood the Two Trees. O'er time these excursions grew e'er longer. Arandil ne'er accompanied her and she eventually felt that a great part of herself and her world lay beyond the scope of their relationship. O'er the years she grew to accept this. When it finally came, their parting was no surprise to her. Still, 'twas many centuries ere she left Tirion for good.
Helluin's parting from Arandil came about with Melkor's attack that ended of the Age of the Trees. Arandil would ne'er leave Aman or his king. Now, with only the light of Varda's stars o'erhead, Helluin felt herself returned to the time of her youth. She saw that a chapter had ended. The old wanderlust was rekindled in her heart. Distant lands called and mysteries awaited her in Middle Earth. 'Twas time to move on.
When the Noldor chose to accept exile and follow Fëanor and his sons, she went with the host of Fingolfin, for she had been closest to the younger sons of Finwë, deeming the son of Míriel and his brood o'erbearing, o'er willful, and abrasive. Fingolfin and Finarfin, the sons of Finwë's second wife Indis, seemed more rational to her, and though perhaps less inspired, they made better company on the road. With her came her younger brother, Verinno, excited by her tales of the wide lands beyond the Sundering Sea.
The truth was that for all his talents, to Helluin, Fëanor was a prideful hothead 690 years her junior. Maedhros, the eldest of his sons, was 1,350 years younger than she. Even Prince Fingolfin was a pup to her; she was 800 years his senior. And then there was beautiful Galadriel, golden daughter of Finarfin, 2,520 years her junior, who seemed always puzzlingly abrupt with her. Not a one of them had e'er stood on any ground outside of Aman. Not a single one had set foot in Middle Earth. And not a single one had lived in Mortal Lands during the Age of the Stars. She'd rolled her eyes as they'd spoken of breathing the free air beyond the cage of the Valar.
The oath that Fëanor and his sons had taken, to forsake all save recovery of the Silmarils and to exact vengeance on any who withheld them, was alarming to Helluin. E'er rash were Fëanor and his sons, she'd thought. That in their folly they had named both the Valar and Ilúvatar himself as witnesses to their oath should have sent her running in the opposite direction; still she had gone. She'd had her own reasons.
Whilst they went seeking stolen treasure and vengeance and realms to rule, she'd gone seeking adventure, thinking that prepared as she was, she could explore Middle Earth 'neath the familiar starlight for her curiosity's sake, as had been impossible on the long road from Cuiviénen. Valinor 'neath the Light of the Trees, inspiring as it had been, had felt somewhat like a party that had gone on too long, all merriment and excitement, and in the end, exhausting. The dark of night was more comforting to her mind and Varda's twinkling lights more soothing. She'd had little interest in dying to recover Fëanor's baubles, though she wouldn't pass up a chance to use her sword against Melkor, the murderer of her lord Finwë, First High King of the Noldor. She was a warrior, but had e'er counted herself an explorer first.
Now as she stood on the shore 'neath Mt. Taras, Helluin had to wonder just what she'd been thinking. In hindsight she'd recognized her foolhardiness of centuries before. She'd really thought she was prepared. And whilst many of the Noldor, (and Fëanor was the prime example), had spent their energies in learning most deeply of smithcraft, Helluin had explored a wide range of skills.
Forging and tempering she'd learnt from Aulë's people, hunting and unarmed combat from the Maiar of Oromë and Tulkas, armed combat from Eönwë himself, tillage from those who served Yavanna, healing from Estë, and from Irmo's Maia Olórin, pity, hope, and wisdom. Many decades she had spent amongst the Teleri, learning the practice of their shipcraft. Of all the Noldor, she was perhaps the widest ranging in her interests, and these skills she added to her native Eldarin gifts of speech and song. If popular tales remembered her not as the master of any craft, 'tis because so many prodigies had arisen amongst the Amanyar, many of these were of noble birth, and Helluin spent great tracts of her time alone. Indeed 'twas because she spent so little time in socializing that she'd had the freedom to explore so many varied interests.
In Middle Earth her skills had been tested, but her goals had been lost in the bloodshed of conflict with the armies of Morgoth. She'd had precious little chance to explore, and in all her time 'neath the sun and moon since she'd returned, she'd ne'er even gotten out of Beleriand. She'd spent 600 years living out the consequences of Fëanor's oath.
And yet the bitterest event, the singular deed that had set her once and forever against the House of Fëanor, had been the abandoning of the Host of Fingolfin upon the ice at the Helcaraxë. In that place Fëanor had taken his host 'cross the frigid waters in the stolen Teleri ships, and arriving at Losgar on the Firth of Drengist he had burned them, stranding the Noldor of Fingolfin. Long had the journey to Middle Earth been for those left behind, and great was their suffering in that frozen waste. For 'nigh on thirty years of the sun they had struggled in the crossing. Many despaired and many died. And amongst these were Elenwë of Alqualondë, wife of Turgon, and Verinno, younger brother of Helluin.
In the wake of his passing she blamed herself scarcely less than Fëanor, and a grim darkness settled upon her that had ne'er fully departed. In battle she loosed it on her enemies, yet in some window of her mind, 'twas at Fëanor himself that she struck her blows e'er after. In private she had toasted a cup of wine to the Valar when she'd heard that Gothmog had beaten him down before the gates of Angband, and that he had died upon the slopes of the Ered Wethrin. Fëanor hadn't survived even a year in Middle Earth and now he was beyond her vengeance, yet his seven sons remained and for them she held scarcely less enmity. They would meet again someday. In Middle Earth there would be time.
Eventually Helluin tired of her morose train of thought and made her way inland. To the northwest of Mt. Taras lay the gate road of Vinyamar, and upon the mountain's terraces stood its halls. There in the southwestern corner of the deserted land of Nevrast, mansions and avenues once filled with Noldor and Sindar stood silent and empty save for the ghosts in her memories. Enveloped in those memories she climbed the wide stairs up to the high terraces of Vinyamar that o'erlooked the sea, and coming finally to the hall of Turgon she passed within its door. As in centuries past she paced that columned and echoing space, 'til she came at last before the throne upon its dais, which had sat so long bereft of lord. There upon the wall behind, where once Turgon had left arms by the command of Ulmo, she saw the spear Tuor had left behind in token of his passing and the taking up of his errand to the Hidden King. But all was silent now, all deserted to wind and rain, and the ocean spray.
All of those whom she'd once known had followed Turgon to Gondolin; a third of the Noldor of Fingolfin had disappeared thither, and the Sindar of Nevrast with them, but now almost all had fallen. Had they remained in Vinyamar, Morgoth would perhaps have failed in his assault upon the Falas, for his Glamhoth had traversed Hithlim and Nevrast enroute to West Beleriand, and many of the Gondolindrim had survived the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. They had still comprised a great host, and their warriors would have driven the enemy into the sea, just as Fingon had aforetime at the Firth of Drengist. Helluin thought that maybe this had been part of the intention of Ulmo when he had twice warned Turgon to abandon Gondolin. The warning of the Lord of the Waters had been delivered to Turgon himself in Vinyamar ere he came to the Hidden City, and again by Tuor when he came there from Nevrast. Yet Ulmo had bid Turgon make his way down Sirion to the sea, and Tuor had come to Gondolin years after the ravaging of the Falas, and so she had doubt. Perhaps the Vala had sought only to preserve Turgon's people to succor those from Doriath. To these questions she realized no answers would come. The warnings had not been heeded and Turgon was lost, the Falas was lost, and the curse of the Noldor had found them all, Noldor and Sindar alike. Though she'd sworn no oath, she too was caught in the doom of her people. In a fey moment she wished that the three gems would fall into the depths of the sea and the earth, or be flung from Endor high into the Void and there lie fore'er beyond the reach of Vala, Elf, or Man.
Long years Helluin dwelt alone in Nevrast, and she traveled that country from the Firth of Drengist to the Marshes 'nigh Linaewen, delighting in the company of the birds and beasts and her solitude. At times she ranged o'er the Ered Wethrin, even back into the Woods of Núath that cloaked the foothills sloping down to West Beleriand if the notion took her, and 'twas there that she encountered a thing that stunned her.
She had been seated beside a small stream, softly singing to herself a song she'd learnt in Valinor from Nienna's people, which spoke of loss o'er time and the falling away of the familiar as 'twas replaced by the new. 'Twas a gentle lament of sorts, bittersweet and treading on the verges of becoming maudlin, but Helluin had always liked the tune. Now as she hummed her voice was joined by an airy, breathy accompaniment, as of a breeze passing through many branches in leaf, a beguiling sound unlike any voices of the kelvar¹. In curiosity she searched all about her, though she continued the song lest the effect disappear. Soon, after several refrains, she marked the slight swaying of the shrubs 'nigh the freshet, moving in time with the music and absent of any wind. She stared at them in amazement, and when she silenced her voice, the voices of the shrubs continued on apace. Helluin rose to her feet and approached the shrubs, kneeling and peering close about them in wonder. ¹(kelvar, "quick ones", animals, as opposed to the olvar, plants. Quenya)
By the Valar, the shrubs had eyes! Helluin recoiled in shock and fell over backwards. The shrubs shook and crowded together about the bank, withdrawing from her. 'Twas some number of them it seemed, quite various in form, as though they were a mixed bramble of twiggy selves trembling in a breeze. The eyes blinked at her as she sat on her backside, petrified in wonder. She couldn't tear her glaze from those eyes, so old and sad, and somewhat beady, but utterly devoid of malice. Somehow she felt a sympathy for them arise in her heart. She read their suffering o'er the slow passage of the years of their lives; in this she recognized kindred spirits, even in ones so strange.
"Wh-who might thou be, ye of kind unknown to my eyes and no less expected?" She whispered softly. She was ne'er more shocked than when one amongst them answered.
"We art the mates of the Onodrim¹, but we have lost our way," the shrub said in Quenya, though the vocabulary and construction were as antique as any Helluin had heard in Middle Earth since her return from Aman. The eyes blinked and looked at her sadly. ¹(Onodrim, Shepherds of the Trees, (coll. pl.) Sindarin = Ents(Westron), protectors of the Olvar created in the First Song by Yavanna, Goddess of Growing Things. Sil; Valaquenta, Ch.2, OAaY, pgs. 39-42.)
"The People of the Trees," Helluin whispered, remembering. "How came thee hither?"
Long, long ago, as the Host of Finwë marched west, still beyond the Misty Mountains far to the east, some of the Elven host had reported having met and held converse with tall wards of the forest, mighty creatures who safeguarded the olvar at Yavanna's wish. Many of the Noldor doubted such an unlikely thing could be. Helluin had ne'er seen them with her own eyes, for in the twilit forest they were invisible unless they moved, and they moved only to approach. She recalled that those who had met them had taught them the Elven speech and had learnt somewhat of the speech of the Onodrim, but 'twas long-winded, sonorous, and ill-suited to verse or song. Few amongst the Noldor had learnt it.
"Long wanderings have we made, and into many lands have we traveled and slowly," the shrub explained, "and we have approached none amongst the kelvar, for they have become enamored of warfare and fire and…chopping. Somewhere along the way we have lost our way, and we have lost our mates. Hast thou seen 'aught of them, the Guardians of the Trees?"
Helluin thought on their words. Beleriand had long been consumed in war, and for olvar such as these, and indeed all others, the lands were unsafe. She had heard no accounts of any having met the Onodrim, and had honestly forgotten 'til that moment even their existence.
"Nay, none of thy kind have I or anyone I know seen since an Age ago and far to the east. Upon the westward road in the Age of the Stars, once some of my people chanced to meet some of thine. Yet since that time even the knowledge of thy people has faded in memory, and was even at the first thought by many to be but a fancy, or flight of the imagination, or perhaps a trick of light and shadow in the starlight 'neath the trees."
"Then thou hast seen none of our people, nor heard tidings of our mates?" The shrub asked sadly. "Why oh why did we wander off, always seeking some new land, some more fruitful garden, and drawn for some reason e'er west, as if driven by a wind 'cross this Middle Earth?"
'Twas by intention a rhetorical question, yet Helluin perceived that in their hearts, as in the hearts of all that had some good within them, there lived a compulsion to seek for the western shores, and thence the Undying Lands, where dwelt the Blessed Powers of Aman. That longing, which had drawn the Eldar 'cross the Hither Lands, had also called to the hearts of the Guardians of Trees and their spouses, though the Guardians perhaps felt their calling to guard the forests the stronger, whilst their mates felt more strongly the call of the west. 'Twas a sad tale of a people sundered, and she wondered if the Valar knew this outcome of their works in Mortal Lands. She shook her head to clear it.
"Nay none of thy people have I met save thou alone," Helluin sadly told the shrub, "yet if e'er I should lay eyes upon any of thy kind I shalt tell them of thy wanderings and that I met thee here. I am sorry, but 'tis the best I can do."
The shrub seemed almost to nod to her in resignation, but after a silence that stretched on apace, it asked, "would thou continue thy song? In the melody and the words we felt some solace and some power that we have ne'er felt in these lands. Whence came such a tune? We would learn it and others if thou would but teach us."
Though she deemed the mates of the Onodrim would ne'er complete the march to Aman, the gift of song was the least she could offer in compensation for a noble dream doomed ere its start. And so Helluin spent many days teaching the Entwives the songs of Valinor, and she spoke long with them of the Undying Lands, and they in their turn spoke of their journeys in Middle Earth. Indeed, it took long to hear their stories, for such was the compaction of details they wove about the plots, that even her Elven patience at times became frayed. Yet still she was loath to abandon them whilst the opportunity lasted, and so in their days together she sang many songs and learnt much lore, and the longing to explore the wide lands of Middle Earth was rekindled in her heart.
Many nights she envisioned the faraway places of which the olvar spoke, and these oft mingled with her memories of the past. And on the nights when Tilion hid Isil's face and the sky was dark, she reveled in the light of the stars. Then almost she could imagine herself the first of the Eldar to have awakened, yet in place of the gentle lapping of the mere of Cuiviénen, she heard the waves rolling thunderous upon the shores of Belegaer, the Sundering Sea. No summons from the Valar shalt come again, she sadly thought, and no road now lies west to Aman save that of death.
Yet upon just such a night, when the waves and the calling of the sea filled her ears, the Lord Ulmo came to her as if in a dream, and he spoke to her with great urgency.
"Get thee hence, back to Avernien," he commanded. "Great evil lies afoot for the people of Eärendil and Elwing at the hands of the sons of Fëanor. Again the curse awakens to kinslaying o'er the Silmarils, yet coming thither, thou may be able to aid in the doom that is appointed. Hasten thou, for time is short."
And Helluin, who had from the first revered the wisdom of the Valar, took his words to heart and replied, "unlike my lords I shalt harken and do thy bidding, for oft enough have I seen the misery that follows such words unheeded. And if it lies within my power to avert even in some small measure the fruit of the curse, than so shalt I turn my steps south." And woe be to the sons of Fëanor should our paths cross in battle, she thought, for that kindred still owes me blood.
Ere Anar rose in the morning Helluin was on her way south from Vinyamar, and she traversed the lands of the Falas as one pursued, crossing Brithon and Nenning. Though the way led 125 leagues, little shy of the length of Sirion from head to mouth, still she traveled it in but nine days. Then coming at last from the Birchwoods of Nimbrethil she saw fire on the coast, for Avernien lay already assailed.
By the Valar, not again, her heart cried out ere the bloodlust took her. Yet only one amongst the Valar had raised his hand to avert this tragedy, and she was his hammer. This time Helluin had come to the battle whilst it still raged, as she had not at Alqualondë all those centuries before. And here yet another seafaring people dear to her heart stood assailed by the House of Fëanor. Her rage exploded and the blue fire flared in her eyes.
In that battle Helluin slew Noldor and Sindar, shedding the blood of kin at last. The remaining sons of Fëanor, Maedhros and Maglor, Amras and Amrod had come to take the Silmaril that Beren and Lúthien had once cut from the very crown of Morgoth, freeing its Holy Light from the black pits of Angband. Now upon the quays at Avernien Helluin wielded the black sword Anguirel, and gratefully did it drink the blood of the Noldor of the House of Fëanor. There she felled the brethren Amras and Amrod, hewing them unmercifully, for she judged them vicious pups who'd partaken in the murder of Elurín and Eluréd, the sons of Dior, children left to die in the woods of Doriath by their brother Celegorm's servants. With her back to the sea she fought and well 'nigh a hundred fell to Anguirel in that hour, for she unleashed the bloodlust that had raged unchecked in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. Soon none would face her and they fled before the blue fire blazing from her eyes, yet she could not be in all places at once.
Now Eärendil was upon the sea, though she knew it not, and for him Helluin searched, and for Elwing as well. But neither did she find, nor their sons, Elrond and Elros, whom Maedhros captured but allowed to live, for he alone so far had repented of the slaying of Dior's sons in Doriath. Still, had they met in battle she would have slain him and Maglor as well, for in that hour she was full sick of the oath, the curse, and the sons of Fëanor. Had she ne'er heard of the Silmarils she would have counted herself far happier for it.
In the waning of the fight, when those who could had fled aboard ship from Avernien and the sails of Círdan and the High King Gil-galad were seen approaching in aid, the last sons of Fëanor withdrew their army and fled. But in that moment, Helluin saw a thing wondrous with hope. There, stealing west above the waves moved a radiant light in the form of a sea bird swiftly flying, a shining beacon leaving Middle Earth for Aman. Long she watched 'til it passed beyond her sight, making its course to and fro as though searching the sea, yet heading e'er west. And in her heart a feeling she didn't understand arose, and a rhyme unbidden she whispered as a prayer without hearing her own words:
Starlight, star-bright,
Fairest star I see tonight,
I pray the passage of thy flight,
Brings thee to Aman this night.
Later she heard the tales of how Elwing had in desperation flung herself upon the waves bearing the Silmaril, and how some had seen her borne up o'er the water as a great gull, star bright. Then Helluin and Gil-galad and Círdan stood looking west in wonder, and despite all the death and the ruin of Avernien, she held the summons of Ulmo fulfilled, for Eärendil and Elwing had escaped and the flight of Elwing sang of destiny. One thing only remained to her mind, and taking her leave of the High King, she made known her intention to find, if possible, the Peredhil or Half-Elven, the sons of Eärendil and Elwing, and rescue them from Maedhros and Maglor whom she trusted not at all.
"May the Blessing of the Valar be upon thee in thy quest," Gil-galad said in parting.
But Helluin replied, "no Blessing shalt the Valar grant to a Noldo in Middle Earth, for like all others, kin of Fëanor or not, willingly did I go into exile in defiance of them."
"Yet hither thou hast done Ulmo's bidding," Círdan the Shipwright said.
"But Ulmo makes not our doom," she said, "and in Middle Earth, doom has come most oft at the point of a sword."
"And so it shalt continue apace, t'would seem," Gil-galad sighed. Then looking into Helluin's ancient eyes he asked, "tell me of Aman the Blessed for which I yearn yet have ne'er seen save in hopes and dreams." For he had been born in Beleriand scarcely 200 years before, and his father, Fingon son of Fingolfin had sent him to dwell with Círdan and the Sindar of the Falas when he had still been young.
But Helluin replied, "thou shalt see Aman, O King, though perhaps it be only from the Halls of Mandos beyond this life's end. Give then my regards to Amrod and Amras should thou meet them ere I do." And so saying she took her leave and made her way north.
Now Helluin went in haste from the mouths of Sirion, and she tracked the remnant of the host that followed Maedhros and Maglor. These were much diminished, for many had been slain and no few had abstained from the battle and retired, refusing at the last to bear arms against the survivors of Gondolin and Doriath. She crossed Sirion behind them above the delta at its mouths, dogging their footsteps in stealth. Through the south of East Beleriand they marched, making for the dense forests of Taur-Im-Duinath to lose any pursuit, and thence she deemed, east to the River Gelion 'twixt the tributaries Brilthor and Legolin. They would then turn north, making their way through Ossiriand to Thargelion and the gap 'twixt the Hill of Himring and Mt. Rerir where in the past they had made their homes during the siege of Angband.
Four days out the company passed 'neath the trees of Taur-Im-Duinath. Following them came Helluin, silent as a shadow and wary. Despite the woodscraft of the Sindar who had joined them, none discovered her presence. Then in the evening of the seventh day as they traversed that forest, all saw a sight of wonder, for blazing into the western sky came a shining light, ascending from Aman in glory. 'Twas the first rising of Vingilot¹, the ship of Eärendil, voyaging with the Blessing of the Valar to sail the sea-roads of the heavens. Amazed were Maedhros and Maglor, knowing that light for what it was…the Silmaril that had escaped them. No less amazed was Helluin, and recognizing it as the same light that had burned as Elwing fled Avernien, she felt the coming of some great doom, for that light could only have been lofted on high by the grace of the Valar. One at least of the gems was safe fore'er in the element of air. In the twisted woods of Taur-Im-Duinath, Helluin rejoiced. The prayer she had whispered on the shore at Avernien had been answered, and it echoed the prayers of many in Middle Earth. In her heart she felt satisfaction, for whate'er was to come, at Ulmo's bidding she had played some small part in that destiny. ¹(Vingilot, "Foam Flower",carried Eärendil to Aman, and then across the heavens as the evening and morning star; the planet, Venus. Quenya)
Now the journey went on, and being one against an army, Helluin gave thought as to how she might waylay the sons of Fëanor and free Elrond and Elros. She had come very close to the host, close enough to see their campfires at night and smell the cooking of their food. Time ran against her, for she knew that sooner or later, whether through some fault of hers or luck of theirs, or by some trick of fate, she would be discovered. Worse than this, once they entered Ossiriand, she would be in the country of the Laiquendi, the Green Elves, and none in Middle Earth so excelled at stealth or exceeded their mastery of woodscraft. She knew them not, but long had the sons of Fëanor dwelt 'nigh their lands and had come amongst them, and Helluin suspected they were in league still and would turn on her. She felt the need to force the confrontation whilst they still walked in Taur-Im-Duinath, and with every step she pondered how to make it so.
Yet as oft occurs, the decision was taken from her by fate, for 'nigh the eastern edge of the forest, the Elven company was surrounded and engaged by an army of Yrch larger than itself, who had been ordered to assault the Eldar of Avernien. During the years of her absence in Vinyamar, many spies had roamed the lands south of Nan Tathren, both those of the sons of Fëanor and those of Morgoth the enemy. Now 'neath cover of night they attacked those who had aforetime been the attackers.
Helluin heard the battle open and raced forward through the dark, for the peril of the Peredhil had increased unacceptably. Yet when she came to the battle she saw a thing unexpected, for there at bay stood Maglor, sword in hand, shielding the sons of Eärendil against the onslaught of the Yrch. At their back stood Maedhros, wielding his sword in his deadly left hand, a cup-hilted dagger lashed to the stump of his right. The Peredhil too were armed, Elros with a bright longsword, and Elrond bearing the fell, double-bladed axe she had seen his grandfather carry for so many years. For a moment she stood in amazement, for the sons of Fëanor fought with all the viciousness of parents protecting their young. The moment lasted but heartbeats ere she moved against the Glam, for no enemy brought together those at odds faster than the agents of Morgoth.
In her hand the black sword sang, rejoicing to spill the blood of the Yrch. It clove through armor and flesh with but a whisper, and many were the enemies that fell before her wrath in that hour. Helluin hewed them without mercy, for no mercy could any of the Noldor find for the creations of Morgoth Bauglir. Through them she fought her way to the sons of Fëanor, and she planted her feet beside them, as unlikely a thing as any she could have imagined. Then, though the battle raged 'til the rising of the sun, none came close enough to threaten the sons of Eärendil and Elwing that night. Finally as Arien lofted the vessel of Anar into the heavens, the last Orch was slain, and so no news came north to the enemy from the mouths of Sirion.
In the aftermath there were moments of awkwardness and uncertainty. Maedhros and Maglor had received aid in battle from the one who had slain their brothers, Amrod and Amras, and vengeance should have ruled their hearts, yet both were tired of vengeance. They'd seen Helluin's battle prowess and the mastery of her swordplay with Anguirel. She had certainly come to avenge the dead of Avernien and rescue the Peredhil. And yet she had slain uncounted numbers of their enemies, and now both brothers were daunted by the intensity of her ancient blue eyes. For her part, Helluin had seen the earnestness with which the brothers had defended their captives, and she perceived with the acuity she'd gained from Olórin in Aman that indeed they had come to love their young captives. Unexpectedly, it seemed that common purpose ruled their actions. Finally she sighed, weary in heart if not in body from the fighting.
"Why did thou take them?" Helluin asked, indicating the Peredhil with a glance.
The sons of Fëanor looked to each other and Maedhros answered, suddenly uncertain, "because we could, I suppose…it seemed a wise course at the time."
"And what will thou do with them?"
"At first we had thought to hold them to ransom the Silmaril, yet now that gem seems beyond the grasp of any in Middle Earth," Maglor reasoned, "and truth be told, I am sick at heart of all that has been done in desire of them and for fulfillment of our father's oath." He glanced at Elrond and Elros. "Now at last my heart is turned to their plight; their home is destroyed, their people dead or scattered, and their parents gone. We cannot take them back and we will not abandon them."
Here Maedhros looked away, the first of the brothers to feel guilt o'er the treatment of the sons of Dior. Though bound 'til death by the oath, it had achieved only ill and the killing had become too much.
"Nay, ne'er shalt we abandon them," he declared softly, "for having taken them from their homes in our madness, so now we must fulfill for them what their parents would have done."
"Shallow substitute to their hearts though it be," Maglor added with remorse, "t'would seem the only right course that we offer to them our hearts and the strength of our arms. As princes of our own house they shalt be."
Helluin weighed their words and knew they spoke the truth of their hearts. She could no more refute their intentions than slay them now. What could she do for the Half-Elven better than what the sons of Fëanor proposed? Through the madness of the oath and the working of the curse, some courses became right though all sense would dictate otherwise. Still she would not trust blindly.
"I think I shalt join thy company and travel north," she said, "I have always desired to visit Ossiriand and see the Mountains Beyond the Land of Song. Traveling together would be safer for all involved should more Yrch appear along the road."
Maedhros and Maglor nodded in agreement. Another warrior of her caliber would add to their chances of returning home alive with their new wards. So 'twas decided that Helluin would join the sons of Fëanor on their march to Thargelion. She only hoped that she could stand the company.
For two weeks they made their way north, crossing the River Gelion and passing through Ossiriand. But the land lay silent; no Elvish song disturbed the watchful quiet. Not 'til they came 'nigh the River Ascar did they see any of the Laiquendi, though all suspected that a watch had been kept o'er their march. That meeting occurred in the evening, when 'twixt one blink and the next a figure appeared at the edge of their fire. 'Twas a tall ellon, a Lord of the Laiquendi clad all in greens, though these seemed to vary in hue and gave the illusion of foliage shifting through fire light and shadow in a breeze. He rose to his feet as if a drift of leaves was forming a figure by some glamour or device of enchantment. O'er one shoulder he bore a bow, a quiver was at his back, and a long knife was sheathed upon his belt. The Noldor could only stare at him as though he were an apparition 'til he spoke.
"Mae govannen, Maedhros and Maglor, sons of Fëanor, what tidings from the south?"
The brothers looked at each other and shrugged uncomfortably.
"A moon ago ye traveled this land in haste with greater host, and return with three who came not with ye then," he continued. "Now many have been lost and a new star rises. We have heard rumor of battle and of the sacking of Avernien. Whither now, sons of Fëanor?" He smirked at them, obviously already knowing the answer.
Helluin stood and spoke, having more curiosity and less guilt than the others.
"I am Helluin, an explorer of the Host of Finwë, and of late, a warrior in the service of the Lord Turgon. Here returning from the sack of Avernien is the company of the House of Fëanor, and with them go Elrond and Elros, sons of Eärendil the Mariner and Elwing, daughter of Dior, Thingol's Heir of Doriath. We march north to Thargelion, and by thy leave would have safe exit from thy lands."
He regarded her with an appraising grin for some time as he weighed her words. He detected no lie and no subterfuge. 'Twas…refreshing. The border of Ossiriand lay not a league north beyond the Ascar.
"Helluin of the Host of Finwë, thou art a stranger to these lands," he said, looking her in the eye. She inclined her head a small degree in agreement. "We have heard of the Fall of Gondolin and thou hast our sympathies. All enemies of the Great Enemy have suffered, whether one dwells in a city hidden or in the open woods. Thou art welcome to pass these lands." Here Helluin nodded to him in thanks and his attention passed to Maedhros and Maglor in turn. "Thou hast had but mixed success I see," he chided, "and I feel many lives have been lost, yet that which was sought has eluded thy grasp yet again. For thy past stance against the evil of the north thou hast our thanks and safe passage as always, but no aid for the achievement of thy oath. Go in peace and in memory of thy brothers whom we do not see amongst thee."
"The tale is as thou hast said," Maglor answered, "and we tire of the fruitless quest. Were we able now, my brother and I would take back our rash words in Aman, yet by our oath we art bound. Pity us if thou will, for we art sick at heart and tired. We go now to stand again against the Great Enemy."
The Green Elf nodded in understanding and Helluin read the pity in his eyes. Though great lords of the Noldor were the sons of Fëanor, she saw that for him, no treasure held the value of freedom and a heart unbound. In some ways he reminded her of herself, in the earlier days of her migration west from Cuiviénen, and the wonder and absorption she had felt walking free in the woods 'neath the stars. Yet for both she and he that joy had been tempered by long labors in Middle Earth and the heartbreak of war.
Last, the Green Elf turned to Elrond and Elros, and though they were but youths amongst the Eldar, he knelt on one knee and bowed his head to them. They looked at him, startled and confused.
"I would know thee by thy arms had no words been said, for is that not Aranruth¹,which King Thingol bore aforetime?" He asked, nodding to the scabbard at Elros' side. "All my people honor thee, sons of Elwing, daughter of Dior, son of Lúthien, daughter of Elu Thingol and Melian the Blessed. Long did thy ancestors in Doriath hold back the evil. Lúthien the Fair and Beren son of Barahir lived amongst us on Tol Galen, and we were honored by their presence. Thou hast our service at need in memory of them." ¹(Aranruth, sword of King Thingol of Doriath was passed down to Elwing, and finally came with Elros to Númenor, where it became an heirloom of the king's house, along with the Axe of Tuor, Bregor's Bow, and most importantly in the Third Age, the Ring of Barahir. -UT, Pt. 2, Ch. I, ADotIoN, Note 2, pg. 171.)
"I…I th-thank thee," Elros mumbled, taken aback by the honor done them. Beside him, Elrond nodded in surprise and the Green Elf rose to his feet.
"My heart foresees the coming change of many things," he declared in prophecy. "Not long now will Middle Earth wait, for the rise of Gil-Estel¹ is a sign, and as that star comes forth from the west, so too shalt the Powers Undying come at last to wrest justice for those who suffer in these Hither Lands. Go ye north to battle and keep faith." ¹(Gil-Estel, "Star of Hope", epithet for Eärendil. Sindarin)
In the blink of an eye he disappeared, and as they strove to mark his passage, all the surrounding woods came alive with a subtle shifting and flutter of motion as the Host of the Laiquendi lessened their stealth and withdrew. Hundreds had stood unseen within earshot and the Noldor had ne'er perceived them 'til they had allowed a hint of themselves to be seen. Helluin hid a smile of admiration for their woodscraft; no doubt the Green Elves had dogged their footsteps all the days of their march and each of them had stood with an arrow reserved for them whilst they'd talked. She realized that though she'd committed his face to memory, she'd ne'er learnt his name. Well, life is long, she thought, and perhaps we shalt meet again someday.
To Be Continued