Chapter Twenty-five: Alqualondë
"Father has not been in his forge for a long while," Carnistir observed wryly at breakfast one day, "Perhaps it is that he is no longer a smith."
"Just because he has not worked at his craft for a long while does not mean he is not a craftsman," Ambarussa replied somberly. His twin brother, Ambarto, nodded, equally solemn. They were so alike now that even Nerdanel had trouble telling them apart.
"Do you still think yourself a smith, Father?" Maitimo asked, looking up from his meal with cool, thoughtful dark eyes. He was no longer a child, but a young man, though because he was unmarried he still dwelt with us, and Nerdanel and I were indeed glad of his presence.
"I do," I murmured, setting my goblet down. But I could see where Carnistir had gotten the idea; I had often of late been wearing raiment finer than the clothes I wore when I planned to work in the forge, and rarely went into the forge at all. "I am only--idling, for a while. I do not know what to make anymore. I have made all sorts of things, from rings to gems to statues, and now--I think I have run out of ideas."
"You do not even make gems?" Tyelkormo queried from where he sat beside Nerdanel, "You used to love making them so much."
"I have made them into all the different varieties I can think of," I sighed sadly, "I have trapped starlight in diamonds, I have suffused garnets in my own blood, I have brightened the sheen of opals with morning dew. What else is there to be made?"
"Why not make your own?" Ambarussa said suddenly, "You do not have to take commonplace gems from the earth and adapt them to your will."
"You know how," Ambarto agreed encouragingly, "You are wise enough, Father."
"I--" I stopped short. What if--? "The Trees," I muttered, "The Trees. Their leaves are light. Light--like starlight. I have trapped starlight in diamonds, why not--" I looked up, and my entire family was staring at me with wide eyes. "Why not?" I repeated, then stood awkwardly and went to the twins.
"Thank you," I whispered to each of them, kissing them on the brow gratefully, then left the room.
"He is a smith again," I heard Maitimo declare confidently from behind me as I made my way to the forge.
When I got to the forge, I did not stoke the fires, but gathered together all the jewels I had collected over the years and gazed upon them thoughtfully. All of them though, however beautiful, seemed flawed and imperfect as I looked on them, and I became discouraged.
"I need raw material," I mumbled to myself, taking a handful of pearls from a nearby urn, "But what will it be?" I looked down at the pearls in my hand thoughtfully, taking in their milky white sheen and the delicate iridescence that danced across their faces. Despite their magnificence, they were not enough alone. Setting the pearls down on the simple wooden table close by, I emptied a half-full bag of opals into my hand, seeing how alike to the pearls they were, yet different and lovely. Slowly, surely, a plan began coming to my mind.
But I would need to travel far, far away for what I desired.
For while the pearls I already owned were fair indeed, I knew that I could obtain finer from the Teleri. Opals too could be acquired from the Vanyar, and the Treelight that I desired most of all would be found in Valinor. It was all laid out before me, but it was in the form of a long, wearying journey across most of Aman.
But it could--and would--be done.
I told my family of my plan that night, over dinner.
"I want to go, Father!" Ambarto cried, before I had even told him the entire design, "I will go with you! I am a good rider now, Tyelkormo taught me!"
"Me too!" Ambarussa echoed, eyes bright with anticipation.
"I would I could take all of you with me," I consoled them, "But I think you are too young."
"We are not!" Ambarto snorted indignantly, but was silent afterward.
"I will go with you, Father," Maitimo offered quietly, looking at the table. I was surprised to hear such words from my eldest and most reclusive son, but I nodded.
"You shall go, Maitimo." My gaze passed over the sulking twins to my other two sons, who sat quietly looking at me, their meals temporarily forgotten. Nerdanel was silent, her food untouched as she looked out the window with preoccupied eyes.
"I do not have to go," Carnistir said in instant return to my glance, shrugging, "I would probably do more harm than help." Maitimo smiled and patted his little brother gently on the shoulder; Carnistir wriggled like a kitten but returned his brother's smile.
"I will watch Ambarussa with Mother," Tyelkormo added, "Besides, Oromë is going to present me a hunting hound from his pack sometime soon. He said he has found the pup he wants to give me, and I do not want to miss his gift."
Maitimo nodded at his brothers' responses, and looked to me. "When do we leave?" He asked.
"A week from now," I replied, "I need time to make ready, and so will you."
"Where do we go first?"
"To the Teleri--to Alqualondë."
Maitimo and I left for Alqualondë before the changing of the lights a week later, riding away to the sounds of my sons' fervent farewells.
"Father, make us a promise," Ambarto demanded as I mounted my horse. It was clear that he and his twin had prepared extensively for this moment.
"What is this promise?" I asked, smiling affectionately at my son's eager expression.
"Take me with you next time--and Ambarussa," he replied gravely, folding his arms and taking on a look not unlike that of his mother, when she wanted something that was yet out of reach.
"I will," I laughed, "Wherever I go next time, it shall be you two who ride with me." Ambarto's features slackened into delight, and he poked his twin excitedly.
"He will take us!"
"I know!" Ambarussa cried, equally enthusiastic. They lapsed into their own conversation, ignoring everyone else as they spoke in an exchange that was not so much speech as expressions and gestures, for such was the language of brothers with more shared blood than most.
Nerdanel, strangely enough, was in stark contrast with her beloved twins. She remained silent and emotionless, responding little to Maitimo's embrace and promise to return soon, and even less to my quick kiss. My wife's state would have troubled me sorely if I had not been feeling the same tug of freedom in my veins that I had felt so often in my youth. It almost seemed I was leaving the house of my father again, to run free and alone under the sky.
We started off at an easy pace, our horses trotting and dancing, tossing their elegant heads and feathery manes as their hooves chased the wind.
As a traveling companion, Maitimo shed his innate quiet pensiveness and somber mood, and seemed eager to talk with me. Soon we were both talking of everything we could think of and bursting into infectious laughter as we recklessly darted across the Calacirya like old friends. It warmed my heart to see Maitimo's face alight with adoration and mirth, and even a dim echo of myself, impetuous and fiery, in his shining eyes.
Despite our long talks and loitering, we made good time. We were riding along the shores of the Bay of Eldamar in a small matter of days, and enjoying each moment of our ride. At night we set up camp, but rarely slept, for we chose to stay awake to find constellations and tell stories.
On the eighth morning away from home, as we rode toward the cape where Alqualondë stood, a small, golden-haired girl ran out onto the path before us. As fate would have it, Maitimo's horse was a half-trained, skittish stallion, and it reared in terror, ignoring Maitimo's attempts to soothe its wild fear and futile tugging at the reins.
I dismounted at once and lunged for my son's reins. Seeing me, he let go of the reins, and the stallion tossed its head anxiously, eyes rolling. Before it could bolt, I snatched the reins and pulled the horse down from its wild frenzy, whispering quiet, gentle words in its ear. Slowly, the horse calmed, from unreserved fright to faint trembling, and then to total calm. Then I turned to the child.
For a moment, words caught in my throat. The girl was young and small, but undeniably fair with a beauty that surpassed her years. But it was her hair that truly captivated me. It was a gleaming, heavenly mass of gold ringlets, shining fit to surpass Laurelin's own radiance. Face splitting into a smile, she lifted both chubby hands toward Maitimo's horse as if it posed no danger at all, as if it had not nearly killed her.
"Horse!" She lisped, giggling with a voice sweeter than spring.
"Artanis!" a boy's voice exclaimed, horrified, and a slender boy ran out onto the road as well, eyes fixed on the girl. He was dark and lean, with a mouth that would have had a mirthful twist to it if it were not presently bent with worry. His appearance almost reminded me of my father, but I disregarded the thought--the boy was far from Tirion, and most likely had no relationship to my family. Following after him was a taller boy, with the same fair hair and elegant face as Artanis, if muted to smoky gold, and eyes so blue they almost seemed violet.
"Artanis, no!" The golden-haired boy chided sharply, picking up the girl and ignoring her emphatic protests of, "Horse! No, Findaráto! Horse!"
"Sorry," the darker boy said, giving us an amused sidelong glance, "Artanis loves horses. She would ride them everyday if she were older. Thank you for saving her."
"Thank you," echoed the other youth, " I am Findaráto, and this is my brother Aikanáro."
"And this is our little sister, Artanis," Aikanáro explained, jerking a thumb at the now-silent girl in Findaráto's arms, watching us with friendly blue eyes the color of the sky at noon.
"Your names are Telerin," I noted, "Do you dwell in Alqualondë?"
"Yes. Our father lives there," Findaráto replied, smiling readily, "He will probably want to thank you. Artanis could have been hurt if not for your clear head. Will you come home with us?"
"That would be well," I replied as Maitimo nodded, "For my son and I fare to Alqualondë as well."
"We know all about Alqualondë," Aikanáro said proudly as I remounted my horse, "We have lived there all our lives."
"I want to live there forever," Findaráto sighed, shifting Artanis onto his other shoulder.
"It is the most beautiful place in the world," Aikanáro agreed, then turned to us. "If you do not believe us, look! There it is." He pointed as we ascended a broad stairway carved out of the stone.
Alqualondë was as beautiful as I remembered it from Arafinwë's wedding. This far from the Trees, the starlight was brighter than usual, bathing the waters and the city alike in silvery, ghostly light. The waves whispered silently on shores of pale sand, their murmurs woven with the faint sound of singing. Out of the dunes rose ethereal, fragile-seeming white towers and walls of a brilliant pale stone. Farther out upon the Sea, the white ships, made with extraordinary accuracy in the shape of swans, still sailed on the blue deeps.
"Our father and mother live in that tower, the one nearest to where we stand," Findaráto told us, gesturing with his free hand as we made our way down the sloping stairs, the horses' hooves echoing on the stone.
Maitimo and I dismounted as we entered Alqualondë, and I for one sorely wished I had enough eyes to see all the wondrous sights of the city as we passed, for I was constantly craning my neck or whipping my head about, trying to see everything at once. Always I would see something that interested me--an elegantly carved gateway or some such--when my sight would graze another fascinating spectacle. Findaráto and Aikanáro seemed used to all they saw, striding casually through the crowds of Teleri, smiling and calling out to people they knew.
For all the boys' familiarity with the city and its people, something told me they and their sister were not entirely Telerin blood. The set of their face was not the fragile, slight cast of the Sea Elves, nor did they seem to glide as they walked, as the Teleri did. No, their faces were firm and hard, though Findaráto seemed to have some of the Teleri's fairness, and their footsteps were as solid as any Noldo's.
My questions about their heritage were answered when we came at last to their home. Aikanáro dashed to the door, knocking impatiently, while Findaráto waited with Artanis. The door was opened by a dark-haired boy, older than Aikanáro but seemingly younger than Findaráto. His face split into a smile when he saw his brothers and sister.
"Back so soon?" He asked.
"I will explain later," Findaráto said briefly, then asked, "Artaresto, where is Father?"
"Oh, he was out in the garden reading, I think--why?"
"This man--" Findaráto gave me a quick glance, and Artaresto's eyes followed his gaze, "--saved Artanis."
"How?" Artaresto asked eagerly, but when Aikanáro gave him a sharp look to remind him of his duties, he hurried off, leaving the doorway empty. Findaráto turned to me.
"You never told us your name," he said quickly, in an apologetic tone, "I did not know what to tell Artaresto. I am sorry."
Surprised by his remorse, I smiled and shook my head. "The fault is mine. I am Fëanáro son of Finwë."
"And I am Maitimo, Fëanáro's son," Maitimo put in.
"Fëanáro?" Aikanáro reaffirmed, face going pale. I nodded slowly, surprised by his strange reaction. What was wrong?
"Oh, no," Findaráto moaned, looking at his brother with shame, "Father will--"
"I will what?" came a voice from the doorway, "Who have you brought, Findaráto?"
I looked at the two boys curiously, but their faces were paler than ever.
"Father!" Artanis exclaimed obliviously, smiling again.
I followed her gaze to the doorway, and found myself gazing at the face of Arafinwë.