Chapter Twenty-seven: Valmar
"What is it you wanted to show us, Father?" Ambarto asked--not for the first time--as I led the family into my forge.
"You will see," I promised, smiling to myself, then turned to my eldest son and asked, "Maitimo, can you close the door for me?" Maitimo did so, and we were plunged into blackness. Without the light of its fires, my forge quickly became a dark pit.
"Stay still," I urged them. Walking unhesitatingly to a table --for I knew my way around the forge even in uttermost darkness--I opened the lid of the casket where I kept the Silmarils and took the three jewels out. Their steady glow was quick to fill the room with light. My family stood squinting for several moments, until their eyes adjusted.
"What are they?" Tyelkormo breathed, eyes fixed on the three white gems.
"They are the Silmarils," I replied, unable to keep the lilt of pride from my voice, "I made them."
"Shining white radiance--the name is perfect," Maitimo exclaimed.
"Can we hold one?" Ambarto asked, as his twin stared in breathless anticipation at the Silmarils. I paused--I had not expected this question, and I had grown used to the smooth warmth of the jewels in my hands. But I reminded myself reproachfully that this was my family; would I withhold my works from the hands of those I so loved?
"Yes," I replied at last, handing Ambarto one of the Silmarils and giving another to Maitimo. Then I moved to Nerdanel, who had remained silent, and made to give one to her, but she shook her head.
"So this is what you did with the light and dew of the Trees," she murmured. Her voice did not sound approving at all.
"I managed to bottle it in phials," I explained, delighted to do so, "And then I blended the lights together, and encased them in unbreakable glass. This way, it will live on forever."
She gave me an inscrutable glance, looking at the jewel in my hand. "This light was meant for all of Aman. Why would you want to keep it to yourself?"
"I--I don't," I said hastily, shaking my head, "I plan to ride for Valmar soon, to show the Valar the Silmarils."
Nerdanel raised a wry eyebrow, but said nothing, watching her sons marvel over the other two jewels. Hurt that my wife had scorned my creations, I turned away to the children.
"I think I need these back now," I told them, placing the Silmarils one by one in the casket, "If I am going to show these to the Valar in Valmar, I need something to show."
"We are going with you," Ambarto said resolutely, as his twin nodded adamantly, "You promised."
I remembered my promise to the twins, and smiled. "Then you shall come."
We rode out the very next day, making our first stop at my father's house, for first and foremost came Finwë in my thoughts. The court fell silent as I took the Silmarils from their casket, holding them aloft for all to see.
"Fëanáro, they are truly magnificent," Finwë exclaimed, descending from his throne to speak to me, "They put me in mind of the stars over Cuiviénen. How did you do it?"
"Light from Laurelin and dew from Telperion," I said proudly, as Ambarto and Ambarussa nodded with equal pride.
"You are more of a skilled one than any of us could know, Curufinwë," Finwë smiled, eyes bright with pride and love, "The Valar--yes, even Aulë, though craftsman he may be--will be in awe indeed at the sight of the Silmarils. I wish you only blessings on your trip to Valmar."
"Thank you, Father," I whispered, putting the Silmarils away and embracing him.
Not long after, we made ready to leave, but not before Melkor came upon us in that strange, slinking way he had, catching us by surprise.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded, angry at the very sight of him.
Melkor's face became hurt at once, as though he had donned a mask. "My matters are my own, and would little interest the likes of such a one as yourself. It is indeed a pity, Curufinwë, that I always seem to catch so noble a prince in such a rare ill temper. What troubles you?"
"I shall not answer that," I snapped, as the twins watched silently, "I have little desire for your counsel."
Melkor, nimbly changing the direction of the conversation, fixed his flat black eyes on the casket I had strapped securely to my saddle. "Then might I humbly ask, Curufinwë" I had long since grown used to his use of my personal name, so I ignored him and mounted my horse, "If I may see but one glimpse of the jewels you keep in that coffer?"
"Might I--equally humbly, of course--refuse, Melkor?" I snarled, gritting my teeth into a smile.
Melkor said nothing for a moment, but he did not move to go either.
"It is strange," he remarked blandly, both seeming to maintain a pretense of humility and managing to mock me to my face, "I thought surely you were the most gracious and kindly of the princes of the house of Finwë, but I daresay Finwë Nolofinwë is the one who takes that name in your stead. Why, he said to me only yesterday--"
"Wait!" I interrupted sharply, "Who is Finwë Nolofinwë?" I feared I knew all too well.
"None other than the eldest of your half-brothers," Melkor replied innocently, confirming my fears, his black eyes seeming to glimmer lightlessly with suppressed laughter, "Did you not hear he has long planned to take up that name?"
"No," I growled. The nerve of Nolofinwë! How dare he even think to take my father's name as his own! What right did he have to it?
"Well, let it be known to you that indeed he means to, Curufinwë, and more," Melkor said, with an enigmatic smile, "I think that the taking up of Finwë's name is perhaps the least of the eldest son of Indis' designs."
"What do you mean?" I demanded, furious. I would see Nolofinwë and his treacherous kin dead before he laid his contemptible hands on the crown!
"You shall see," Melkor smiled mysteriously, and left, flowing gracefully into the shadows. "I advise you take action, Curufinwë," he called over his shoulder, "If you wish to see them" he pointed at Ambarussa and Ambarto, "reign over the Noldor, as is their birthright. Will you deny your sons the kingship?"
"No," I muttered furiously to myself, "No, I will not."
My high spirits were dimmed as I rode to Valmar with Ambarussa and Ambarto, and my mood darkened as my thoughts deepened.
Though I little trusted Melkor, his words had struck deep, and were entrenched in my soul. If he was correct, Nolofinwë, and likely Arafinwë as well, plotted to see a child of Indis upon the throne of the Noldor. Nolofinwë as King, with Findekáno as his heir? The very thought made my brow furrow and my hands clench into fists. I was the firstborn! I deserved the crown! Had I not proved my worth of late? I would like to see my half-brothers attempt to create a Silmaril that was worth even a thousandth of one of my own!
But I remembered Nolofinwë's reverent defense of the Valar, and how fervently he had persisted that they were our guardians and friends. That kind of talk most likely went right to their ears, and earned their love. With the aid and friendship of the Valar in reward for his foolish admiration, Nolofinwë could do almost anything, let alone take the crown. I imagined how easily he could take my birthright from me with the Powers' assistance, and shivered despite myself.
Quickly, I minded myself of the Silmarils. I had outshone all the material works of the Valar with one creation; why could I not outdo their political designs as well? I myself knew I had been gifted with a swift, persuasive tongue as well as skilled hands; I could talk my way out of most anything. If I managed to rally enough companions to my cause, perhaps I could stop Nolofinwë from seizing the throne.
But if I failed--?
It shall not be so, I promised myself as we rode through Valmar's bright gates, I will see it not be so.
My sons and I wasted no time in going to the heart of Valmar, to the great citadel where the Valar often dwelt, basking in the gold and silver light of their making. When the sentinels saw I was the eldest prince of the Noldor, they hastened to let me enter, and so I came to the great hall of the Valar.
The court was filled not only with the Valar and the Valier, but with the Maiar and a scattering of Vanyar as well. I passed through them obliviously, seeing only the Valar, in their fair corporeal forms, sitting in fourteen gilded thrones at the end of the hall.
At the two innermost of these chairs sat Manwë and Varda. Manwë was girt in robes of an unfathomable blue, so like the firmament in color that he seemed clad in the heavens themselves. His eyes were blue also, set in a fair, handsome face both wise and young, and upon his brow was a silver circlet set only with a trio of bright sapphires. Varda, sitting beside him, was clothed in blue cloth as well, but darker, nearly black, the color of the skies at twilight, and set with many diamonds that glittered like stars in the dark fabric. There was no diadem about her forehead, but she wore countless more diamonds woven into her hair, shining about her deep, mysterious eyes.
The other Valar sat about the two leaders of their kind, and I recognized many from the legends of my youth--Ulmo, terrible and great in his sea-green robes and shimmering mail; Oromë, friend of my son Tyelkormo, bearing a mighty javelin and with a great shaggy hound, not unlike Huan, lounging at his side; Yavanna, wife of Aulë, in a simple, woolen frock of earthy browns and greens, though her bearing suggested her nobility; Mandos, maintaining a somber, thoughtful face over his robes of black. . . I even caught sight of Aulë, wearing a copper-colored tunic and with a gold circlet about his brow. It was strange to see my erstwhile mentor in bodily form, when I was so used to hearing only a mighty voice in my head. He saw me as well, and his dark eyes brightened, a smile coming to his face, a smile I did not return.
I felt the cold, satisfied bite of irony as I knelt before the Valar, holding the casket before me.
"August Valar," I began, suppressing my inner smile of victory, "I, Fëanáro Curufinwë son of King Finwë of Tirion, come before you bearing a work devised of my own thought and craft alone."
"What is this creation?" Aulë asked first, face bright with pride.
I let myself smile then. So little did they know! "I call them the Silmarils, and they are three. Forever shall they illumine Aman and all of Arda with their light." With that, I opened the lid of the coffer, and the glow of the three jewels sprang forth, their pallid yet colorful light spilling over everything in the blink of an eye. There was an audible gasp that reverberated across the hall, and I stood to my feet, holding the casket in my hands as I did so.
"What magic is this?" Ulmo asked, deep voice rigidly emotionless, though his eyes are bright with surprise.
"Only that of the enmeshed light and dew of the Trees," I replied smoothly. Ambarussa and Ambarto flanked me on either side, awed and silenced by the combined majesty of the Silmarils and the Valar.
"How did you diverge this light?" Yavanna queried, voice rich as fresh-turned earth.
"I do not know," I said honestly, "I just--separated it from the rest, and gathered it into a phial."
Yavanna looked rather like Nerdanel as she quirked an eyebrow and looked at her husband, but she said no more.
"Bring them closer," Manwë commanded, speaking for the first time. I did as I was told, and took a few steps nearer to the thrones. Varda bent close, silvery-white hair tumbling over her shoulders as she scrutinized the Silmarils. Then she raised her gaze to me, and her eyes shone as stars in the fair coolness of her face.
"I would hallow them, so that no thing of evil or unclean will or mortal flesh might touch them, but only with your approval, Fëanáro," she told me quietly.
I considered this. It would further my dependence upon the Valar--not something I liked--but I was also ensuring the safety of my Silmarils.
"Very well," I said reluctantly, handing her the casket and jewels. Varda regarded the Silmarils calmly for a moment, with only subtle flickers of emotion revealing she had a penchant for the three gems, then her eyes fluttered shut and she passed a pale hand over the jewels. The hall was silent.
Varda opened her eyes, looked at the Silmarils once more, then smiled and returned the coffer to me.
"It is done," she explained, "Guard them well, son of Finwë. They are of more value than you know."
"The fates of Arda are bound to them," Mandos boomed, "Earth, sea, air--over all shall these jewels hold sway. I shall say to you once more the words of Varda--guard them well."
"I shall, for they have sway over my heart as well," I told them fervently, and with a quick bow, left the chamber.