Chapter 5
"Where exactly are we going?" asked Loriel, after they had left the orcs far behind them.
"Lothlorien," said Berand. "We must take the fairies to Lady Galadriel."
"That's all right," said Omiel. "We can go by ourselves."
"I'm not going to Lothlorien!" said Loriel.
"All right," said Berand with a shrug. "You can go back, then. But that anthracite is probably still around."
Loriel said nothing but kept rowing.
Berand glanced at the horizon. The sun had set already, and a pale waning moon had risen. "We should stop here for the night," he said. "Make for the west bank."
Loriel accordingly did. They pulled the boats up onto the bank and set up camp, while Dakir lit a fire and started cooking some bacon...the first meat the fairies had had for three days now. Omiel felt like an orc.
Loriel smoked and target practiced on mosquitos while the others were busy. After everything was assembled, they all gathered around the fire and ate dinner.
Phylloxera turned to Omiel. "How did you find this thing?" she asked.
"That's none of your business," said Omiel warily.
"I was just curious," said Phylloxera with a shrug.
"What exactly is this thing?" asked Omir. He sounded irritated. "You said you would tell me later, Omiel, now is a good time."
Omiel sat stubbornly silent.
"You mean," asked Berand, obviously surprised, "you don't know what she bears?"
"I know she carries a little clear stone on a chain around her neck that shines at random...often unfortunate...moments," replied Omir impatiently.
"And you have no knowledge of the early days?" Berand sounded excited. "Then I'll tell you the story."
"No!" cried Loriel. "Spare us!"
"Long ago, at the very beginning of all things..." began Berand.
"See what you did?" said Loriel. "He'll go on like this for hours now!"
"In the deepest depths of time," continued Berand, "were made the great peoples of the earth. There were the Elves, the firstborn of the One, Iluvatar, and they were the people of the Stars. There was the race of Dwarfs, made by Aule, the people of the Fire. Then came Man, also children of Iluvatar, the people of the Sun. And there was the race of Fairïes, and whence they came none is certain. But it is said that in the beginning, certain of the Valar took to themselves the form of men and women, and married elves, and the fairïes were their children. And they were called the people of the Moon, because they loved the night, and because while they were not so powerful as Elves or Man, they brightened the world in places no man could reach; or so it was said, though more likely it was because by that time, all other lights had been used for the naming of the other peoples.
"Of all peoples, only the fairïes were able to wield magic (it is said because of their Valar ancestors), and but few of those. Of these, King Tamil was the greatest."
"Thanks for the news bulletin," said Omir, yawning, "but I already knew all that."
Berand went on regardless. "The first three peoples dwelt happily in friendship for some time, but the elves and fairïes were not so well off at first. In ancient times the fairïes were merry and mischievous...and some are so still..." (this with a meaningful look at Omir) "...and both they and the elves have always been proud, but the elves more so."
"We are not!" said Loriel.
"And so it often happened," went on Berand, "that what would have been taken as a light jest by a man or dwarf, was counted as an insult and replied to as such by an elf. And what would, in time, have been forgiven by most, was held as a grudge for many years by a fairïe. And as the years went by, more and more often, quarrels and fights broke out between them.
"At last the head kings of Fairïes and Elves held a meeting, inviting also the lesser kings of the two peoples. Now it happened that on the night of the meeting, the moon was sailing upright, or, as men say, crescent- shaped, and lying on its back, and Eärendil was hidden behind it. And after certain decisions were made, King Tamil, by his great magic, took the moon, and made Eärendil to shine through, just above the curve of the moon. And it was a sign for the mutual friendship and freedom of the Elves and Fairies, and it came in time to be a sign for all people.
"And thus the prophecy came about, in Fairïe:
"Eärendil, Menon o Elvejïhren, ï Ceth-Ʋfan opir.
"And in the common tongue, as close as one can translate it:
"Eärendil, Star of the Elves, and the Sailing Moon shall bear it.
"And Eärendil traversed the sky, and whenever it passed behind a sailing moon, it shone through; and peace and prosperity endured on earth and in the heavens.
'But two hundred years after all these things, to the very night, the moon once more sailed upright and Eärendil passed behind it. And in that moment, the Silmaril fell from the brow of Eärendil, and was lost, and the light of Eärendil was no more. Even the dwarves and goblins came up from the mines and caves to see the sight; and all suspected the fairïes, for only fairïes could work such great magic.
"And none knew where the Silmaril had fallen, nor when it would return. But all believed the prophecy, that, one day, Eärendil would once more be ride upon the Sailing Moon. And the prophecy books and the ancient scrolls say that the prophecy means, moreover, that the Silmaril itself will be born back to the elves by a fairy of the House of the Sailing Moon.
"And now that prophecy has come to pass, for this fairy brings the Silmaril with her, and I judge she is a descendant of Ulmo, of the house of Herdun, and it only remains to find a way to return it to the sky and to Eärendil."
There was silence for a moment, then Phylloxera yawned. "Not that that wasn't terribly interesting and all," she said, "but I think it's time we get to bed."
The rest agreed, and soon they retired. But Omiel lay awake for a long while, pondering what she had heard. She had known the gist of the story before, but never had she heard it all at once and in detail, and she felt that something was missing. Berand had never mentioned…
A twig snapped a few feet away. Omiel's blood froze, and out of the corner of her eyes she saw Phylloxera making her way stealthily across the camp. She was coming straight toward her.
Omiel quickly shut her eyes, pretending she was asleep. She heard Phylloxera crouch down beside her. She felt fingers on her neck, on the chain. Almost before she knew what she was doing, she reached up and grabbed the elf's wrists.
Phylloxera started, then struggled violently. One of her wrists escaped Omiel's grasp and groped for the chain. Omiel tried desperately to hold her back. The elf had the advantage, being larger and on top, but somehow she never quite touched the chain. Omiel felt the sweat on her forehead as she squirmed, trying to get out from under Phylloxera. It was the only outward sign of her desperation. Neither of the girls was making a sound.
Omiel had almost gotten free, when Phylloxera reached behind her back and drew something out. An elven blade glittered blue in the moonlight and Omiel could stand it no more. "Aaaaaaah!" she screamed.
Dakir jumped out of sleep like a jack-in-the-box, with his mouth hanging open at the peculiar turn of affairs. Berand lifted his head groggily, then leaped to his feet. Loriel sat up as if he had been awake all along, looked at the unusual scene, and asked "Why did you do that?" as though it really didn't matter. Omir opened one eye, rolled over and promptly fell asleep again.
Phylloxera, seeing Berand catch up his sword, abandoned her position on Omiel stomach and fled into the forest. Omiel lay gasping on the ground, holding tight to the Silmaril.
"What was that all about?" asked Dakir.
Omiel sat up painfully and said nothing.
Loriel gazed vacantly at the place where Phylloxera had disappeared and coughed. "We should leave now," he said, nonchalantly.
Berand gathered up the blankets, frying pan, and other odds and ends, and kicked Omir. "Come on," he said. "We're leaving."
They put everything in the boats and rowed on towards Lothlorien.
