20. Seize the Night

All things must come to an end. So did the hectic sixteen days allotted to us, and the big date was upon us. A few evenings prior, we scouted out the prospective battlefield, so to say – then spent half the last night dragging our gear there, then setting it up. By then, everything was ironed out (hopefully), with every song falling into its designated place in the setlist, the performance well rehearsed, the seating arrangements decided upon and all the technical details taken care of. Of course, we were not going to take money for tickets; if I was expecting to earn anything from this, it was definitely not cash.

The most real concern I still had (apart from my nerves being worn paper thin by anxiety, that is) was the power... the literal electric power. I used up all the batteries, charging them to the brim using the solar panels (I don't know what would have happened if a prolonged period of overcast weather had fallen upon us, but my options were rather limited at that point...), and yet they would last just barely long enough for us to play to the end. Yeah, better avoid twenty-minute talking points and just finish on time – but then again, you're such a rockstar front man, Macalaurë, and the public adores you so much, I laughed at myself.

Just like our earthly colleagues would, we were to start at sundown – at the end of the most important day in my life since setting foot in Aman, I thought at first... but then again, how could I compare this with my reconciliations with Nerdanel and Calawen, I backtracked then, or with meeting Telperinquar again, or... Yes, it was different, I ended up proclaiming to myself, but just as significant.

See what I mean when I allude to my propensity for being preoccupied with the most ridiculous notions to distract myself from the truly critical stuff?

Either way, a few hours before we were due to start we all assembled at Tyelpë's house that had become our abode and rehearsal space for the last several days – to the point of some of us barely venturing outside – to eat, together, our final meal before it would be the time to go. As Nerdanel, Ninglor and Calawen all tended to us – which was flattering, although making me a little ashamed, though they insisted on helping us get prepared for the concert without us expending the strength we would yet need – I thought again of another unrelated issue, one that had long tickled my fancy.

We were served the best cereals, bakery, vegetables and fruits from Telperinquar's stockpiles, and some exotic seafoods – a Teleri import, I learned, the products of fishing and aquaculture in equal measure – but there was remarkably little of the actual meats that were the staple sustenance in most cultures of Middle-Earth... with a particular caveat that I was surprised to learn. As I found out, unlike the Edain, my kinfolk did not practise most of the same ways of animal husbandry – except raising horses to be used as pack and riding animals, and sheep for wool – and definitely not those that would require slaughtering cattle. Fishing in both Belegaer and Ekkaia was allowed, and some hunting too – although that one was strictly regulated, being limited mostly to bringing down the sickly animals Oromë would mark for culling, and this meat was expensive. However, the ever industrious Yavanna would find a way to make up for that deficit – caused not only by the compassion for the animals (I, too, did find the whole idea of the cattle farms and abattoirs of Earth rather repulsive, and tried to steer clear of that as best I could) but also by the conscious effort of what would be called "preservation" back among Men... who really should have followed the lead of the Eldar in this. In a nutshell, Kementári used her powers of bioengineering – so to say – to invent a plant that would serve as the source of protein (though I was not sure if the term was even known, and whether the underlying science was consciously processed by the Valar in the way the human scientists did it...), much like Middle-Earth's soybean. And our incomparable ladies of the manor were able to cook it into a meal so wonderful that I did not really miss the actual meat; certainly a far cry from the meagre morsels of "soy meat" found in dried ramen that so many unfortunate people had to subsist on back in the world I left behind!..

My thoughts zigzagged unpredictably between things related to the coming concert – there was no getting away from it, as time was running out, making me alternately sweat and chill – and those far removed from it (go on, ponder all you want on the wonders of Elvish cuisine, Macalaurë, instead of preparing for the gig, that'll be so helpful). Dinner did not take that much time, partly because we were not inclined to talk at length while we ate and partly because we did not really have to eat that much in the first place. Again, I wondered how we, the Eldar, had a metabolism far more efficient than that of the humans – we needed a lot less food and drinks but we could process what little we do consume a lot more effectively (make of that what you will, I will not expand on it). A chance, alarming thought that coursed through my mind was that in a sense, the Edain were like a "blueprint", a beta version if you will, of us – I chastised myself for harbouring this borderline intolerant idea in the following moment – yet while we did come first, Eru chose to bequeath the greater world to them for some reason, an incongruity I had pondered upon a few times in the past.

Ah, but we were about to present their technical achievements – and some of their musical heritage – to our brethren, it dawned on me, and that somehow gave me the answer I was missing back then.

After Ninglor took away the plates, cleaning them of any insignificant leftovers with a subtle word of power – neat, I thought, things like these really do save my kin from some of the maddening menial labour that burdens the Edain (especially the fairer gender thereof) when they have so little time in their lives anyway – I happened to look Calawen in the eye. Her gaze was tranquil but serious; she nodded to me, and I realised what that meant. It was time for us to move, and as I rose from the seat, all of my co-conspirators appeared to understand that at once, for there were no questions – only calm acquiescence.

The ride to the theatre passed in a blur for me as my mind was captured by the images of places and events both far and near: some of the same places by the lights of the Trees, in the past so frightfully remote that it looked like it happened several lifetimes away, some transpiring quite recently on Earth. I came back to my senses a little when Calawen elbowed me in the ribs playfully, indicating that we had arrived. Still dazed, I walked out of the carriage and into the side entrance of the venue, then through a tangle of corridors where I would have been veritably lost if not for my wife's directions – she appeared to understand my condition well, so she was not asking questions. But when we found ourselves behind the curtain which was ready to open, she did another unexpected thing – which was, at the same time, endearingly reminding me of our youthful hijinks that were a part of the reason we had been getting along so well in those long gone times before the Darkening. Yes, she pinched me hard on the rear – and, when I raised my head in surprise, with a muffled yelp of pain and confusion, she winked at me… then strode off and literally vanished into the hall. Yet her unexpected prank really did bring me back in the proper mood, and I peered through a gap in the draperies.

The hall was huge, and my fevered imagination made it expand way past anything I've ever seen either in Aman or in my time among the humans. Unlike the performance venues of Men, it was not shrouded in darkness while the stage would be brightly lit – differences in the way our senses worked made that unnecessary. Fëanáro's lamps were abundantly hung on the walls and the pillars supporting the ceiling, and their light was making it easy to see almost the entire interior of the theatre that looked veritably palatial on the outside – but on the inside, it felt even more grandiose.

And it was indeed full of people. Jam-packed, as my wife had told me, but seeing this crowd was absolutely on a different level. It has been decades since I was standing – and slated to perform – before such a great crowd. And even when I was, I was just a nigh-anonymous member of a backing band for a great big star of human showbiz, not the actual focal point of everyone's interest… which could have run many ways. After all, I had a history with these people; familial with a few, friendly with some, adversarial – or even violent – with many.

Of the kingdoms of the Ñoldor and the Sindar, I thought. And the Vanyar, and the Nandor, and even the Avari.

The first few rows were especially looking like a "who's who in Valinor" – or the character appendix in The Silmarillion, I thought – and that caused me to lose concentration for a moment. My eyes met Finarfin's, as the High King of Ñoldor was looking at me with an unreadable expression devoid of any apparent emotion. His wife Eärwen was visibly looking wary, if not exactly hostile; no surprise there as she was, need I remind, the daughter of the Teleri king Olwë, and she definitely had a bone (or a whole boneyard) to pick with my own self as the son of Fëanáro. Telperinquar was likely exempt from her wrath as he never pronounced the Oath nor participated in the kinslaying at Alqualondë because he was plainly too small at the time, and his father simply took him along on a ride to hell. I, on the other hand, fought – and killed – both at Swanharbour and later, every time raising my sword against not just some abstract Elves, but her closest relations.

And yet, she was here. Dragged along by Arafinwë, as per the duties of the High Queen – which included accompanying the King whenever and wherever possible? Mayhap, though given what I knew of her (and of him), not necessarily true.

Now, I had to prove myself again to all of them again, erstwhile friend or foe alike. I sighed, counted down from three – despite the burning urge to extend that indefinitely – and stepped out onto the stage, where my guitar was already reclining against the amp, waiting just for me to pick it up. Still gingerly, I secured the strap around my shoulder, flicked the switch – and froze again.

I realised that all eyes were on me – both from the audience and from my own bandmates – and nearly panicked in that instant. It was I who had to start it, because – as I remembered almost belatedly – the intro tune was to begin with me playing a chord sequence, and then the other musicians would join in, one by one. But for the indescribably long moments, I felt like it was impossible for me to commence playing – for there would be no way to stop and undo it. It would have been akin to lighting a fuse, to firing a first shot in a war...

Or to saying the sacramental three words to the one whom your heart belongs to.

This last thought somehow stirred me out of the prostration. I bowed to the listeners, then picked up a plectrum. Instead of looking at the audience – as concentrating on it would only further undermine my confidence and probably cause me to make mistakes in playing – I cast my glance at the band, briefly establishing eye contact with every one of them. Lindir was calm and collected, as he smiled at me reassuringly. Telperinquar, seated behind the battery of percussion of his own making – need I say that it was similar to the one you find Earth's drummers use and abuse, yet quite different from it, bearing distinctly Elvish characteristics as this kind of instrument in itself was, of course, not unknown to the Eldar in itself – unexpectedly took that one step further. He raised his hand with a smirk, folding his fingers in some kind of weird crossing between a V-sign and a metalhead's "goat horns" gesture – he must have glimpsed that in the videos I showed him, then took it upon him to evolve it one step further. I almost laughed at this, my mood changing abruptly and a calm collection settling in instead of the dishevelled feelings of mere moments ago. The plectrum struck the strings, and the amplifier carried the sound forth.

Smoothly and exactly on time, Aewelír picked up, raising the flute to her lips and playing a flourish that would become the main motif of the short intro tune, expanded upon and played by more than one instrument in due time. Only halfway through writing the instrumental intro, I understood that it was becoming more than a little similar to Ennio Morricone's "The Ecstasy of Gold", but decided not to scrap it, as the parallel of Metallica using it as an overture to their concerts, including the symphonic ones, was not lost on me. I really was a sponge absorbing influences from everywhere, but did it matter at this moment? Not only were there no lawyers to sue me for alleged plagiarism, but it was all even beneficial if I was able to bring as much as possible of Edain's musical thought to the attention of my people.

As the last notes were sounding, we all exchanged glances – and I saw all of my bandmates smile tentatively. We have done it! We've played the first tune for our brethren! From then on out, nothing seemed impossible, even though the setlist – scribbled on paper sheets that each of us had pinned wherever it felt appropriate – still contained twenty-two items. And there would be so many surprises for the audience (most of it anyway, since a few people – like my wife, who was watching us from the first row, taking photographs all the while using my small digital camera – did know at least something about what was to come).

A brief moment of respite to catch our breath, and – we had to play on. Which song would be the first proper one to be presented – that is, one that would have one of us sing in addition to playing – was decided almost at the start of our discussions, because the choice was really no choice at all. It had to be the "travel song" I created while on the Straight Road, because it encapsulated the feeling of transition – from one life to the next, to boot – so well, especially after I wrote the lyrics (that my bandmates all added their own touches to, because all of them had to take this journey at one time or the other). It was an opener by design, similar to what "Highway Star" or "Neon Knights" were for the bands that created them. Using it in this way meant that my story would not be told in a strictly chronological way, but did that really matter? While the contradiction was not lost on me, I simply decided that I would be arcing the story – it would go "there and back again". And here we were, right at the start.

The song was, actually, giving many "firsts" to the audience. The first time they would hear me sing in untold times. The first proper rock and roll tune ever heard in Aman, and the first guitar solo, too. It really carried me away, as it always did, because the motive contained in it was simple yet so captivating, certainly to the performer.

Let's see the effect it has had on the esteemed public! After the last chord expired in the air, I took the time to study the audience. Disbelief and wonderment were the prevailing emotions – small wonder given the nature of the music, juxtaposed against the lyrics in Classical Quenya (the knowledge of which I had to bring up to speed prior to the preparations for the concert, because the language had inevitably changed during the long years of my absence). Nobody was rising up to head for the nearest exit, which was a real consideration – at least to my fevered imagination that I riled up well and truly before the concert. As well, Calawen and Ninglor were both grinning ear to ear, evidently proud of their husbands, as they were sitting in the front row.

Well, we would give them – and ourselves – good reasons for that, I thought, as I struck the strings to start the second proper song, now with none of the trepidation that I was feeling before starting. At the moment I knew that I would be able to do this, and that was all that mattered.

Note: the chapter name is from a song by Meat Loaf (from the Bat out of Hell III: The Monster is Loose album, 2006)