Chapter 9 – The Children of Alqualondë

There were children playing on the docks when the Noldor slaughtered their kin at Alqualondë.

Did you know that?

It is not written in the histories, nor recorded in any song. And even now, three ages later, none among the Falmari dare speak of it. They have no words – but they do not forget. I wonder sometimes, who sings for the children of Alqualondë, who mourns for them? For if the grief of a people is silenced, unable to be set free, how can it ever be laid to rest?


Valinor
Fourth Age

Eruanna slipped out of Olwë's palace unseen by the ladies of the court. It was not that she disliked their company; she merely desired time alone to tour the city. She strolled through the market, absorbing the sights and sounds of the city, so full of life, stopping here and there to speak with vendors. As Eruanna moved further from the center of the city, her feet led her inexorably toward the sea. It was the one place Eruanna longed to visit – and yet dreaded with equal measure.

By midday Eruanna found herself at the top of the hill overlooking the docks. The sight was familiar, for she had stood on this very spot before, when she first arrived in Valinor. Those first few minutes had been such a whirlwind that it had not occurred to her that she stood on the very ground of the first kinslaying. Eruanna wanted to move closer, tour the docks again, but she could not take another step.

"Good afternoon, Eruanna," a voice called out from the path behind her.

Eruanna turned, her sights falling on a now familiar face. "And to you, Prince Ionwë," she answered with a smile and a bow. She had grown quite fond of Galadriel's uncle in the time she spent in Alqualondë. He reminded her of a mixture of her father and Lord Celeborn. The prince was wise, learned and possessing of an even temper and gentle humor that made him quite popular among the Eldar.

Ionwë graced the young elleth with a lighthearted smile. "I see you have successfully escaped the ladies of my father's court."

Eruanna laughed. "It was no easy task, I can assure you."

Ionwë glanced at docks and then back to Eruanna. He had spied the elleth on his approach and seen her gaze fixed with interest upon the sea. "Have you visited the docks yet?"

Eruanna shook her head. "No," she answered.

"I would be happy to give you a tour," he replied, holding out his hand.

Eruanna was thankful for the offer, but did not wish to be any trouble. "I am sure you have more important things to attend to."

"Touring the docks is an important part of my duties," he replied, "and I would enjoy the company."

Eruanna's eyes brightened. "I would enjoy a tour, then," she said, and took hold of the prince's arm.

They made their way down the hill to the sparkling blue waters. Ionwë was the perfect guide, sharing with Eruanna the many secrets that made the white ships the envy of Aman.

Eruanna marveled at the skill and artistry of the Teleri. Their ships were more spectacular even than those built by Círdan's Falathrim, built for elegance as much as utility. "They are beautiful!" Eruanna exclaimed. Even the ship she and the Ringbearers sailed in did not compare.

One of the great ships was even now dropping anchor, its crew and passengers preparing to come ashore. "Where does that ship come from?" Eruanna asked, watching the bustle from afar.

"Tol Eressëa," Ionwë replied. "Ships come and go from the island every day."

Eruanna watched the elves disembark – her gaze flitting across the many faces, but two, in particular, caught her eye, an ellon and elleth, both with long silver hair.

Ionwë followed the direction of Eruanna's gaze, easily identifying the couple she followed. "That is Anira and her brother Aearion," he told her.

"I … I believe I have seen them before," Eruanna replied, "at the Ringbearers' Feast."

Ionwë nodded and smiled, his eyes shining with laughter. "Aearion never likes to miss a party."

Eruanna's gaze shifted from the prince to Aearion and back again. "He looks like you," she said to the prince.

Ionwë laughed lightly. "I should think so," he replied. "They are the children of Círdan, my cousin."

Eruanna was more than surprised by this revelation. "I did not know Círdan had any children," she replied.

Ionwë did not appear entirely surprised. "Did you ever ask him?"

Eruanna shook her head. "I only met him briefly, when we passed through his haven to Valinor," she answered. Her gaze returned to the ellon and elleth as they made their way up the hill. She marked their resemblance to their father easily now, but the sight of them troubled her still. "There are no tales of Círdan's children in the histories of Middle-earth," she said.

"No," Ionwë replied, his tone suddenly grave. "I suppose not."

Eruanna was about to ask his meaning when the sound of laughter drew her attention to the far end of the dock. A group of children were playing, jumping off the edge of the pier into the water. It was a sight Eruanna was not expecting to see.

"Are children permitted to play on the docks?" she asked suddenly.

"Of course," Ionwë said. "It is the favorite playground of every child."

Eruanna's bright expression shifted, her eyes darkening, her lips turning into a frown. "Has it always been so?"

Ionwë noted the concern in Eruanna's voice and affect, though he did not understand its source. "For as long as we have dwelled on this shore," he answered. "Why? What is wrong?"

Eruanna did not answer immediately, for she had trouble finding the proper words. Her troubled gaze shifted from the children to Ionwë, his countenance now shadowed by concern. "There is no mention of children playing on the docks," she said.

Ionwë shook his head, confused by her statement. "What do you mean?"

Eruanna clutched her hands to her chest, as if they might somehow protect her from the prince's question – and its answer. "I have read every book and lay written about the first kinslaying," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, "not one of them speaks of children."

Ionwë was struck silent by the elleth's reply. He had not been prepared for it. His attention returned to the children, laughing and splashing in the water. His chest tightened, as if a great fist clamped down on his heart. There was no answer he could give Eruanna that would be of any comfort. "There are some horrors for which there are no words," he said. It was a feeble explanation.

"And yet, words are all we have," she lamented.

Eruanna studied Ionwë who continued to watch the children play. She knew that the prince of the Teleri was older than Fëanor, old enough to have witnessed the Noldor's assault on his city. "What words would you use," she asked, "if you were to tell that story?"

Ionwë's eyes grew distant, clouded by memory. The child sought answers, but what she asked for, he could not give. "I can not speak of what occurred in that battle."

Eruanna's response was slow, hesitant. "Why not?" she asked, hoping he would not think her question too impertinent and aware, for the first time, how terrible the answer might be.

Ionwë smiled – an unexpected reaction to so serious a question. "Because," he replied, "I was already dead."