Chapter seven: Negotiations

I dreaded visiting Alqualonde . The last time I saw the city, it was from a distance, just after the kinslaying. The first thing I noticed was that I had a sick feeling that something terrible was happening. I didn't know what; I just knew that there was something wrong and that my sister was in the middle of it. We pressed forward, and then I smelled the smoke drifting over the hill. I never went nearer than the crest of the hill that day. What I saw from there was enough to give me nightmares to haunt me for the rest of that life and beyond. Beneath a dull ceiling of cloud, embers glowed in the dark and reflected red off the clouds above. The sound of muffled weeping could be heard, but little else. My brother Aikanaro had waited for us and he told us not to go down there. If we went down, we would die. We could do nothing; we came too late. The halls of Mandos may dull the pain of terrible memories, but they do not destroy it.

The city was beautiful today, the white beaches and white buildings shining in the sun. Ships lay at anchor in the harbor, and all signs of the horror that had been before were long gone from sight. From sight, yes, but not from memory, not for me nor from those who lived there.

I followed my parents and Ingwe the High King down into the city. People came out to look at us. I reached out tentatively to read their mood, but what I read was confusing. Some were glad to see us, more were concerned and reserved, and from one I had a sense of black hatred that rivalled that of Feanaro when he spoke of Morgoth. No wonder Olwe had not given the Valar a clear yes. This was likely to be messy. I began to wonder if my presence would really do anything other than harm, and to understand what my father had faced when he returned. The courage that must have taken...

I schooled my expression into something amicable and polite, and rode on.

We reached Olwe's palace around midafternoon. There was to be a formal banquet that evening, so I went to bathe and change into something not soiled by my travels.

Later, I followed my father into the hall. I looked around. It was still beautiful and much as I remembered it from happier times long ago. The abalone, pearl and jet mosaics on the walls still shone, depicting the rising of the Lord of the Waters from the waves, with swans flying overhead and ships in the background. I remembered being here when they were too high for me to reach. Edrahil had picked me up so I could examine them closely.

I was seated at the high table, between my father and one of his great lords. Across from me was Carnear, a Vanyar lord I knew vaguely from my time in Valmar, and Olwe's son Olnar. The banquet was excellent, consisting mainly of the seafood specialties that Alqualonde was well known for. The company was also good, although Olnar was avoiding speaking to me. I did not press him to speak, instead having a long conversation with Carnear about Ellemire's most recent poem. I did notice that Olnar was stealing covert glances at me when he thought I wasn't looking. Possibly the random glow was making him nervous, but it seemed more likely that he was uncomfortable in the presence of an Exiled Noldo. He had, after all, been badly wounded by Feanaro's son Tyelkormo in the fighting, as my father had informed me earlier. With regards to that, I had nothing but sympathy for him.

I enjoyed the banquet but guarded my tongue and was careful not to drink much of the very fine wines on offer. The singing after was better because everyone had relaxed and many of the Teleri are marvelous musicians. Many songs in, Carnear asked me to sing. "Sing something from Middle-earth," he requested, passing me the harp.

That was all well and good, but what would be appropriate? Probably something in Sindarin from Doriath - if I were to use a little extra of the minstrel's gift, it would be understandable to all. Perhaps the lay of Denethor's Fall. It was sad, but it would reminds them that the Exiled Noldor were not the only ones in danger from Morgoth. Carnear passed me the harp, and I began to sing:

In forests dark beneath the stars,

A lord of old was Denethor,

Nought he knew of metal arts,

Till Morgoth came unto the shore.

I sang of the coming of Morgoth and of Denethor's aid to Thingol in that time of darkness, of a battle won at too high a cost, and of Denethor's fall.

Surrounded then by hordes of orcs,

Better armed than he by far,

He fell upon the mountain's slopes,

And into darkness fell his star.

In the silence that followed, I bowed my head before passing the harp on to the next person.

"What was that?" someone asked.

"That was the fall of Denethor," a lady with silver hair and silver eyes answered. "He fell in the first battle against Morgoth, before Melian set the girdle around Doriath and before the Noldor arrived. His people are called the Nandor. Denethor's death shattered them, and they took no lord again." She turned towards me. "I am honored to meet you, Finrod Felagund, King of Nargothrond-that-was."

"And I you, Lady Elwing," I said, realizing then whom she must be.

The next person began to play, and things returned to normal. I went to bed tired, but well satisfied with what the day had brought.

The negotiations proper began the next day. The atmosphere was tense, but nothing I had not dealt with in Beleriand. As far as I could see, the great lords of the Teleri were divided between those who wished to fight, those who were willing to lend ships and sail them but not to fight, and those who wanted nothing to do with Middle-earth no matter what the Valar said. The middle group was probably the largest, but as ever the two extremes were louder. Nothing was decided that day, and in the evening we devoted ourselves to music and tales. By tacit agreement, nothing was said nor sung of Middle-earth that evening.

The day after was much the same. Some of the arguments grew hotter, and lord Toldil decided to try and irritate me into embarrassing myself. He failed. Hundreds of years of acting as a bridge between Sindar and Noldor in Beleriand gives one a great deal of practice in ignoring barbed comments and keeping your temper. He was not nearly so adept at being maddening as Caranthir, Saeros, or even Elu Thingol in a dangerous mood.

The negotiations dragged on. The Vanyar and Noldor delegations held a small meeting of our own in which we decided not to ask the Teleri for any help other than the loan of their ships, and aid in building more, for all the ships in Alqualonde would not suffice to carry the entire host. The temper of the Teleri worried me. It seemed dislike was hardening rather than softening as the negotiations dragged on. Nothing I could say helped much. As a formerly Exiled Noldo, I was an object of suspicion, although no one dared say as much to my face or to my father's. I was nervous, and began to find the palace confining. Unfortunately, I did not dare wander around the city without an escort, and an armed escort would only aggravate the situation.

Five days into the negotiations, the situation exploded. It started innocently enough when Olnar asked me what the Valar intended to do about Maitimo and Maccalaure, the surviving sons of Feanaro. I told them I didn't know, and that their fate was up to the Valar.

"Where is the justice for our dead?" he demanded. "I don't see why we shoul bail them out when no one bailed us out when we were attacked by them. Yes, yes, I know that they are not the only ones there and in danger, but will we not see justice ever? Some of our people have not yet returned from Mandos!"

"I think you need to ask that of Lord Manwe or Lord Namo," I said. "I understand your pain with regards to your relatives in Mandos, but be assured that for them time does not run the same, and lord Namo will not harm them."

"That is easy for you to say. I notice you left awfully fast. What did you do to get left out so soon, one who did nothing when Feanaro slew your kin?"

He goes too far. "I did not stand there and watch, as some of you seem to think. Feanaro did not inform anyone of his plans, and I knew nothing of what was to happen. By the time I got to the crest of the hill, everything was over and I was told that I would be killed on sight if I came down here. As for why I was allowed out of Mandos, it was because I volunteered to try and heal some of the damage that the Noldor have done - and because I died saving someone else's life and have killed no one save servants of the enemy. Frankly, some of the things you are accusing me of make me wish I'd stayed in Mandos and let somebody else take on this extremely unpleasant task!"

"I don't believe you - kinslayer by inaction," lord Toldil said.

"Your accusations are unfounded," my father said. "My son was with me the entire time and neither of us knew what Feanaro was doing, nor imagined beforehand that he might do any such thing."

"Of course you say that to protect your son," lord Toldil said, tossing his head angrily. "But I don't see why he - "

"This is not relevant to the conversation," interrupted Olwe. "We were discussing training Vanyar and Noldor to build and sail ships."

Discussion of the appointed subject resumed. Toldil fell silent, but gave me contemptuous looks from where he was sitting. Worse, his wasn't the only mind giving off feelings of suspicion and hatred towards me. I sat where I was feeling somewhere between humiliated, furious, and deeply saddened. How dared he... yet it was not surprising. It was hardly the first time that someone assumed that because I did not turn back after Alqualonde, I condoned Feanaro's actions there. Morgoth might be in Middle-earth, but the lies and hatred he fathered bred quite well without him. I had hoped that Valinor might have healed, but it had not. All Arda was marred.

I spoke politely to the others as the meeting broke up, but avoided my father. My head hurt from the strength of my emotions, and I felt a need to be alone and to be outside for a time. I walked out the garden door into the palace gardens. I walked quickly, paying little attention to where I went. Eventually I found myself at the far gate. I turned back, walking more slowly as my anger began to cool. I stopped by a little fountain, and sat down on the bench beside it. I rested my chin on my folded arms, staring at the fountain while my mind was elsewhere.

There had to be a better way to handle these accusations. They were going to come up again. Deny them too strenuously and they looked as if they were true, ignore them completely and they also looked as if they were true. It was finding the balance that was the hard part. I thought back to my days in Middle-earth handling the difficult task of remaining on speaking terms with both Elu Thingol and the Feanorians.

I heard the crunching sound of someone walking down the gravel path ahead of me. I ignored it, but then they walked right up to me. I looked up. It was a Telerin mariner, to judge by his clothes. He was radiating anger and nervousness. Oh joy. Just what I didn't need right then. "Are you the Noldor prince?" he asked.

"I am," I said. I sensed danger from behind me and whirled, automatically reaching for my sword. It wasn't there. I suddenly realized that I had better not injure anyone or I would merely prove everyone's suspicions about the Noldor tendency to violence. I hesitated, and the Telerin mariner grabbed me. Someone hit me then, and I passed out.

Glossary:

Maitimo Maedhros

Maccalaure Maglor

Aikanaro Aegnor