Of Helcaraxë and the Passing of the Noldor

Pull out your pack and head on down to the Prancing Pony for some great Role Playing (try to stay in character)!

Postby Celebrimbor32 » Thu Mar 28, 2002 10:04 pm

[ thread by invitation only, please ]<BR><BR><b>~*~</b>A silvery mist of white fog rolled over the white-capped waves of the great Sea of Belegaer and crashed blindly into the solemn shores of Aman, home of the Valar, lands of the Eldar and all things that endure eternaly. The magnificent wonder and elegance of Valinor, that the children of Iluvatar had now enjoyed for many a long age under the government and guidance of the Valar, had now abruptly deviated from it's long appointed course of joy and prosperity, and had fallen from on high into a well of darkness. As a flame is extinguished suddenly by a wind too strong, the glory of Aman was now diminished. For the rule of law had been violated by the Noldor, and they had spilled the blood of their fellow Eldar unrighteously and unlawfully, the first ever within the undying lands. Against their own wisdom, they took up the counsels of Feanor and followed him away from their beloved city of Tirion and came at last to the havens of Alqualonde, land of the Teleri. There, a fierce battle was fought between the Noldor and the Teleri over possession of the great ships of that harbour but, in the end, Feanor prevailed and gained control of the fleet and quickly sailed northwards, along the coasts of Aman. With him was joined the hosts of Fingon, son of Fingolfin, brother of Feanor. The hosts of Fingolfin and Finarfin had followed behind, and now traveled northwards, along a parallel course, upon the coasts on foot.<BR><BR>The seas were dark and forboding, but the ships of the Teleri were the fairest that had ever been, and they were well-crafted. Feanor commanded his mariners to continue on through the darkness, though all aboard were weary with pain and grief over what had befallen back at Alqualonde. There, among those in the ships at the rear of the small fleet, stood Orowe, son of Celwe, alone along the portside of the boat. Almost motionless, he stared dumbly out across the wide sea to the east. White waves of foam crashed soundly beneath him as he reflected upon his deeds, and sought desparately to grasp hold of some thread of sanity to explain what had recently befallen the Noldor. A people crazed, they had now become, since fell Feanor and his son's had taken their terrible Oath. All their deeds were rash and without thought to the consequences they might bring upon them.<BR><BR>" Yet, I am not without sin, " thought Orowe to himself. " By my own hands were many of the Teleri slain, though I knew not the cause of the conflict. Feanor may have set ablaze the fires of my heart, but I fanned the flames willingly and have shed the blood of my kin. Alas! Would that I had heeded the words of my father and mother and remained in Tirion in peace! " Orowe raised his hands from the railing which he leaned upon and looked at the palms. Patches of dried blood stained his tattered gloves red from the battle with the mariners of the Teleri, only a short while ago. Vivid images now ran through his mind. Images of violence and atrocities committed by the hosts of the Noldor against their brothers. Thrice, he had thrown mariners from Alqualonde overboard and into the sea. At the last, he had drawn his sword and slew an elf that had sprung upon him from his flank. Shaking his head, Orowe now shut his eyes to hold back his tears. Taking off his blood-stained gloves, he threw them into the sea and said, " A fine son you have, father! A murderer of kin, and a burden to your unsullied reputation...."<BR><BR>Orowe was suddenly roused from his melancolia by shouts from his companions. " Orowe! " said one, " What are you doing? Come hither and lend us your aid at once! You are needed to look upon the wounded, for there are many here that require attention! " Orowe quickly came to his senses and began to aid the medics that were attempting to heal those who had been injured in the battle. Meanwhile, Feanor directed the convoy of ships from the van and would not be persuaded to stop along the shore and wait for Fingolfin to catch up........
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Postby Carnimiriel » Fri Mar 29, 2002 7:17 am

"They have slain many of us and taken our ships and gone." The Teleri elf's face was filled with grief as he said this, but also with a new loathing of the Noldor whom he had once thought of as distant kin. His grandmother was a Noldo. "Your son Fingon was with them."<BR><BR>He turned away without a farewell, and left Fingolfin standing silent beneath Varda's stars, surrounded by his kin and followers, who anxiously awaited the word of their leader. What would they do now?<BR><BR>"We go by land." Fingolfin finally pronounced, though all who were near him could see that his face was a mask of sorrow and rage.<BR><BR>And so the Noldor of Fingolfin's household made their way laboriously up the rocky coast. Only Fingolfin's elder son Fingon and his host were absent, having boarded the ships. But they had arrived late in the battle and believing that perhaps Feanor had been set upon by the mariners at the direction of Manwe, had unwittingly given him aid. Those in Fingolfin's vanguard could see the fair ships sailing ahead of them in the rough seas. Had Ulmo interceded to make it more difficult for the kinslayers?<BR><BR>Towards the rear of this great column were Finarfin and Earwen, who had been the most reluctant to heed Feanor's rash words, and their five children. Only the rumor of the kinslaying had reached them, and still they marched.<BR><BR>Behind Finrod and Galadriel, Aegnor walked with his head hung low in shame. Beside him his beloved daughter, Anarrima, wept, and he knew that he was the cause of the weeping.<BR><BR>"Father, let us go back to Tirion now." She pleaded. "You promised that we would only accompany our kin for a little while, so that we might say goodbye to them properly. Mother will wonder what has become of us!"<BR><BR>Aegnor's wife Malina was of the Vanyar, and had refused to come with them, which grieved the son of Finarfin greatly. He loved her and had taken great delight in the years they spent together. A pang of sadness stung his heart at the thought that never again would he hear her laugh, or see the sparkle of her wise grey eyes. She was lost to him the moment he gave his allegiance to his own kin rather than to hers. But how could he let all his brothers and sister, all of Fingolfin's house, go ahead into Arda without him? He was so close to his older brother Angrod that one of them was scarcely mentioned without the other. No matter what he decided, he would feel that he was tearing himself in two. And he felt that way now as he realized that he had to break the news to Anarrima, whose presence he hoped would be a comfort to him and somewhat lessen the pain over losing Malina.<BR><BR>"Father?" Anarrima's voice was small and afraid.<BR><BR>She slipped her hand into his. Surely they would turn back as he promised, wouldn't they? Had Nienna noticed her absence among her own pupils? Certainly the Maia Olorin, who had been spending much time as of late in the House of Nienna, would miss her presence. She had learned much from him, and was eager to learn more. All she really wanted was to sit at the feet of the Valar and the Maiar, to sing and play the lute, to embroider with her mother and her aunts -- her breath caught in her throat as she realized that her father did not intend for them to return. Though she knew it was trivial compared to not seeing her mother again, the first thing she thought of to mourn was that she would never complete the banner she had been embroidering for her father, with the crest of his house. She had left all of her embroidery behind in Tirion.<BR><BR>The weary company halted for a brief rest, and Aegnor turned to hand a cake of lembas to his daughter, but he still hadn't answered her question.<BR><BR>"Father? You don't intend for us to return, do you?" Anarrima caught his hand and looked him straight in the eyes. She had to know.<BR><BR>Aegnor wanted to look away, but his daughter's gaze, innocent yet with a certain wisdom often seen in those who spent time among the Valar, held him. Rather than answer with words, he nodded and pulled her into a close embrace. To his shame, he realized that he was weeping.<BR><BR>Anarrima wanted to resist. She clenched her hands into fists as if to strike him, but how could she strike her own father, who loved her, or else he would not weep so to cause her sorrow?<BR><BR>All of her innocence was destroyed on that day, and years later she would remember it with a mix of bitterness and longing. Her trusting heart had been wounded, and even as her body was limp and unresisting in her father's arms, something inside her broke into a million tiny shards, like the crystal vase she had accidentally broken as a child.<BR><BR>"Oh Father, why?" She finally asked, pulling away from him and not even bothering to wipe away the new tears that streamed forth suddenly from her eyes.<BR><BR>"I am sorry." Aegnor looked away from his daughter's accusing eyes. "My heart tells me that I must leave Aman with my kin, and I could not bear to be parted from both your mother and from you, dearest daughter. Someday when perhaps you have a child of your own, I pray that you understand."
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Postby asaris » Fri Mar 29, 2002 8:35 am

Curufë stood on the prow of the first ship, just behind and to the right of the elf who started all of this. "You are more quiet than usual, Curufë. Does your heart misgive you?"<BR><BR>"Aye, Fëanor. Leaving as we did, with the blood of our brothers on our hands . . . it is not right, and it will come back to haunt us in the end, I fear."<BR><BR>"Fear not, brother! We have escaped the clutches of the Valar -- how shall only one stand against us?"<BR><BR>Curufë nodded, but his heart was still heavy. He remained silent, watching the waves go by.
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Postby Elbren » Fri Mar 29, 2002 1:01 pm

"I am grieved beyond words that blood was shed," Fingolfin was saying, "yet, our course is now set, is it not? We go forth to Middle Earth."<BR><BR>Silence answered the Noldor Lord. The host of Fingolfin had camped for the night near the sea, but tonight, the song of the ocean brought no comfort to the Eldar. Many had gathered together near the fire closest to Fingolfin's tent; again, as had happened often since the Elves had first left Tirion, the discussion turned to whether or not they wished to continue traveling in Feanor's wake.<BR><BR>"We are here because of Feanor's vengeance," Glorfindel finally answered. He stood tall amongst his brethern; clad in silver mail and his eyes shining, he was an Elf of few words, but he was known to be a valiant Lord amongst the Noldor. "But what we seem to keep forgetting," he continued, his eyes addressing all who were gathered close, "is that what Morgoth did to our home, to the Two Trees, he did to us all. Yes, he destroyed Feanor's treasures, and for that, Feanor is crazed with revenge. But for me, for my kin, we are here to avenge Telperion and Laurelin; we are here to see that Morgoth pays dearly for what he has done."<BR><BR>"Do you speak for all of your House?" Fingolfin asked bluntly.<BR><BR>Glorfindel glanced at his sister, Elenwe, who nodded in return, and then at some other Golden haired Elves who stood close by, clad similarly to Glorfindel himself, who also nodded, and then he replied "I do."<BR><BR>"Good," Fingolfin nodded and smiled, "we must stop this constant discussion and bickering about whether to return or go forth. Feanor has taken to the sea, but he will not forsake us."<BR><BR>Another uncomfortable silence settled upon the gathering; clearly, not everyone was convinced of this.<BR><BR>"We follow you, Father, not Feanor," Turgon stepped forth and spoke. "It matters not to us where he goes."<BR><BR>A shadow fell across Fingolfin's face as his son spoke those last words. "It matters not?"<BR><BR>"We follow you," Glorfindel spoke again, putting his hand upon his friend and kinsman, Turgon's, shoulder, "we follow you, Lord Fingolfin."<BR><BR>***************************<BR><BR>Later, as Glorfindel stood near the sea, staring up at the countless stars, he thought he saw the sails of Feanor's ships in the distance. <BR><BR><i>Fingolfin's faith in you is ill placed,</i> Glorfindel said to Feanor in his mind.<BR><BR>The kinslaying was unthinkable; unimaginable; hideous. <i>I do not follow you, Feanor, I follow Fingolfin. Do not forget that ere we meet again.</i><BR><BR>For Glorfindel knew that they would meet again; he had the gift of foresight and prophecy. Even when he was a child he had been able to see glimpses of the future; and, though they were clearly seen by Glorfindel's inner eye, the visions were often puzzling to him. He would always speak what he had seen; indeed, the speaking of the vision seemed to be a part of the sight. Though, often times the truth of his words was not seen until many years later. <BR><BR>And what he had seen, ever since Feanor's terrible oath, had only been visions of death and misery. He could not leave his people now; no,he could not return to the city of Tirion and dwell in peace; not now that Morgoth had destroyed the Trees. As long as Fingolfin marched, Glorfindel and the House of the Golden Flower would march with him. <BR><BR>
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Postby sraedi » Fri Mar 29, 2002 4:48 pm

As she listened to her own brother speak to their father, Aredhel could see his fair wife and daughter next to him. When their journey began, she had noticed the presence of the Elenwe and, with much amazement, saw her following Turgon, for she thought Elenwe would stay in the undying lands like so many Vanyar did, forsaking their spouses to their own choice and doom. And her amazement soon turned into concern, for she thought of her kin as delicate as the early sprouts of Yavanna, and feared that even the smallest peril would fall heavy upon her shoulders.<BR><BR>But Ar-Feiniel diverted her thoughts to the large ships now, sailing defiant and fearless against the sea, led by Feanor and his seven sons. Many murmurs of the kinslaying and the betrayal of the house of Feanor started to rise among the people of Fingolfin, like growing tides. But she thought she could hear the words of Maedhros and his brothers whispered through the winds and this brought confidence to her heart, that despite the raging anger of Feanor and the constant doubt among those under of her own father, they would not be abandoned. And thus she spoke, with strong and clear voice to the people gathered:<BR><BR>“Aye! They will come! Do not let yourselves be troubled with doubt and fear, and take heart! Even if the deeds and words of Feanor seem unwise and harsh, have we not all shaped strong bonds with his sons and his people? Were we not all the same house under the name of Finwe, our lord? And is our brother Fingon, not sailing next to them within the white ships?”<BR><BR>Then the murmurs had faded and to her father she said, full of respect, yet loudly so all could hear: <BR><BR>“Let us ride swiftly and walk in haste father, so we may shorten the time to meet again with Fingon, our brother and Feanor, our kin”<BR><BR>The White Lady of the Noldor spoke with words and tone no lady would dare take, yet she was fearless and hardy of heart as were all the children of Finwe, and stood tall and strong even between own her brothers. Within her, the desire of riding over the vast wilderness of Beleriand, but mostly, the urge to follow those she had befriended among the hosts of Feanor and the promised freedom, lay fresh and open like a scarlet gash on her chest.<BR>
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Postby Alkarion » Sat Mar 30, 2002 10:19 am

Foam-covered large waves were rushing at the ships as they struggled northward in the foreboding darkness. The whining of the wind into the sails and the splashing of salted spray across the ships' railing made it difficult for anyone to talk, yet at the prow of the last vessel Alkarion breathlessly continued to query Fingon about what had just happened.<BR><BR>"I sounded the alarm as soon as I saw the terrible deeds of the mariners... with my own eyes I witnessed one of Feanor's kin being pushed overboard... did you not hear my trumpet call in time ?" asked Alkarion, brushing aside soggy locks of his long pale hair from his face.<BR><BR>"Aye, Alkarion, your signal was loud and clear, and faster than hunters after a deer we ran. When we managed to board the ship the confusion was undescribable. The Teleri who had cornered a much smaller group of our kin had raised their staffs high and had we not intervened many of ours would have been harmed," replied Fingon, absent-mindedly staring at his torn sleeve and the superficial wound on his forearm.<BR><BR>Alkarion smiled with pride - he had indeed done the right thing. But why the look of concern, almost of despair on his master's face ?<BR><BR>Fingon's gaze had turned across the ship's prow to the other vessels in the northward journeying party, all tossed about by the gale-force winds and the angry waves. "Alkarion, I'm not sure what we really did. We did not stop to ask what was happening. Seeing our kin in danger made my blood boil... ere long all of the attacking Teleri had been tossed overboard or lay wounded or dead on the quay, and the other ships were already hastening out of Alqualonde. There was no choice but to follow. But never before..."<BR><BR>"...never before had swords and staffs been raised by elf against elf? Is that what you mean ?"<BR><BR>"Aye, Alkarion, I see this thought troubles you too. We jumped into the fray with little regard for what was the cause of the tumult, then followed hastily as the other ships escaped. At first I thought a band of fey Teleri had rebelled against their captain, for surely the mariners would have aided Feanor's cause, but as we fled I beheld so many maimed bodies on the quays and the shores, I do not know any more what to think." Fingon blinked two or three times and licked his salt-covered lips, fingering the hilt of the sword at his belt.
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Postby Celebrimbor32 » Sat Mar 30, 2002 12:46 pm

Amarethiel, wife of Celedhros, stood wan and silent outside the entrance to their little tent. The mighty hosts of Fingolfin had made their encampments for the evening along a row of raised and wooded hillocks that overlooked the long coastline of Aman, nigh to the great sea. All about her, others from the host were pitching their own tents and busying themselves with their nocturnal errands before retiring for the night. As she stood there, she gazed out through the eaves of the woods and beheld the white waves of the sea below her, tumbling in orderly fashion into the gentle beaches of white sand. Her and her husband had just come from the meeting of Fingolfin and his son Turgon. Glorfindel, of the house of the Golden Flower, was also present. The decision to hold their course and continue up along the coastline had been made. Ere long, they would reunite with Feanor, further to the north, and rejoin his hosts before they would all board the ships and depart Valinor once and for all....Or would they? A shadow of doubt fell upon her, for she had never cared for Feanor and she mistrusted him. " Would Feanor keep his word? " she asked herself. " Or would he turn his course eastwards now, and venture to Middle-earth without them? And what were these rumors about atrocities and murder back at Alqualonde? The Teleri were ever the friends of the Noldor. They would never seek to harm or waylay their friends of old, unless provoked. They are good people. " She strained her eyes eastwards in hopes of descrying the sails of ships carrying Feanor's hosts.<BR><BR>She then felt hands upon her shoulders. Celedhros came up behind her and embraced her. " Why do you linger out here, my dear? Tis' plain you are troubled by recent events, and it is no wonder. We are all concerned about what fate lies before us now, yet great hope is still with us. The counsels of Fingolfin are wise. He and his house will not fail us, of that you can be sure. In time, we will all come to Middle-earth ourselves and behold the wide, innocent lands of Arda, and you will be glad that you heeded my words. My dear sister, Linuile, will be with us, and we will begin a new life together. "<BR><BR>Amarethiel turned around and looked her husband in the eye, " And what of Feanor and his sons? Great evil they have already committed on their road, I can feel it! Reports have come to us that there was battle at Alqualonde. "<BR><BR>" Aye, it was mentioned at the meeting, but it has yet to be confirmed. I do not fully trust Feanor anymore than you, my dear, yet he is valiant and hearty. He is also now, by right, high king of the Noldor. He will soon rejoin our hosts and will begin ferrying his people across the wide seas upon the ships. After all, is not Fingon, Fingolfin's son, not aboard the ships alongside Feanor? Yea, they will return ere long. Then we will perhaps learn the truth of what befell back at the havens. For, surely, Fingon will not lie to his own father. " <BR><BR>They spoke no more of this that night. Amarethiel retired to the tent for the night, while Celedhros went out to seek Glorfindel, for the words of his wife troubled him, and he wished to speak with him in private, for he knew that Glorfindel loved not Feanor or his sons, and perhaps could enlighten him on what really befell back at Alqualonde...
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Postby Elbren » Sat Mar 30, 2002 6:07 pm

Glorfindel leaned forward at the small table within his private tent and folded his hands before him; his eyes were distant and sad. Across from him, Celedhros had the expression of one who waits for a summons.<BR><BR>"Celedhros, events have moved so rapidly, it seems, since Morgoth had that...<i>thing</i> destroy the Two Trees," the Elven lord's voice gradually grew bitter, "I did not witness the events at Alqualonde; so I cannot speak with the certainty of truth, but my heart is full of misgivings. I trust not Feanor in the matter of his Silmarils," Glorfindel's eyes darkened, "I believe that he would kill his own kin in order to fulfill his Oath."<BR><BR>Celedhros let out a breath that he had apparently been holding while Glorfindel had spoken. Glorfindel's heart went out to his friend; he could see the turmoil and doubt, of all of the Noldor, cleary showing in his friend's face.<BR><BR>"Things have changed so much," Celedhros said simply.<BR><BR>"And they will change even more," Glorfindel held up his hand at Celedhros's expression, "no, that is not from a vision that I've had. That is simply how it shall go for us."<BR><BR>The Lord of the House of the Golden Flower stood and poured them both some <i>miruvor</i>, placing the two goblets upon the table as the wind began to whisper outside.<BR><BR>"It's growing colder," Celedhros sipped the Elven drink.<BR><BR>Glorfindel nodded as he took a deep draught of the strong liquor, "Precisely why we are going to need to keep a sharp look on our supplies, especially the <i>lembas</i> and <i>miruvor</i>."<BR><BR>"I wonder if the ships have any supplies on them," Celedhros said quietly.<BR><BR>Glorfindel looked solemn, "You ask me," he said, "to tell you what I think happened in Alqualonde. Well, then I shall tell you, but before I do, I stand by what I said earlier this evening and have said since we left Tirion: I follow Fingolfin as my High King; Feanor has not long been returned from exile and his anger is hot and his pride like a dagger."<BR><BR>Glorfindel drained his goblet as his brow furrowed in worry and doubt, "I think that many of our host, and some even of Feanor's host, drew sword without full knowledge of what was taking place. Yet, that doesn't make the victims any less dead."<BR><BR>Celedhros was about to speak, but Glorfindel continued, his heart full and needing some release, "By the time that we arrived, the grief was too close to the Teleri for them to speak too much of what had happened. But, I do know this, Celedhros, when we arrived I was at the front of our people with Fingolfin and Finarfin, and the look within the eyes of the Teleri was one that I had not yet seen before: they had the look of <i>fear</i>. Their hands were at their sword hilts and the archers, some of them, had arrows already notched and ready."<BR><BR>Glorfindel shook his head, "My heart is full of foreboding. I do not trust Feanor or his sons; there is little love lost between my House and his own. Do you know what I fear more than Feanor abandoning us?"<BR><BR>Celedhros shrugged.<BR><BR>"I fear that Feanor <i>will</i> rejoin us," Glorfindel's eyes were sharp with mistrust, "I fear that he will join us and lead us to our doom."
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Postby asaris » Sun Mar 31, 2002 10:47 am

As the ships sailed on in the long night of Valinor, and the elven hosts marched under a yet starless sky, Uinen mourned the Teleri murdered by the Noldor, and a great storm rose up against the Noldor, tossing the ships in wind and wave.<BR><BR>Curufë, no sailor himself, was bent over one side of the ship, his lunch falling into the sea below as he clutched the railing for dear life. Near him, Fëanor held on to the rigging and laughed a fey laugh. And so the ship tossed and turned into the night.
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Postby Alkarion » Sun Mar 31, 2002 6:03 pm

Alkarion sat hunched up against the railing, near the middle of the ship where he had found refuge as the storm had increased its might and the vessel had enlarged its pitch and yaw. He had discovered quickly that standing at the prow where he originally stood only magnified the rising and sinking feeling in his innards. As more and more of the elves around him had fallen prey to some deadly sickness that caused them to stand over the railing and retch piteously, Alkarion had retreated to the point of the ship where the fierce jolting was somewhat attenuated, and so far had managed to contain the queasy feeling.<BR><BR>Fingon, his beloved master, had joined his host of counselors who stood on the elevated deck standing nearby, and was surveying the dark, swelling waters that now had boiled to such rage. "The conditions are bad", thought Alkarion below, "and we have just tossed away the very elves who would know how to handle this weather.... is Ulmo so angry at what happened that he will crush our unworthy armada?"<BR><BR>Alkarion shook his head almost violently, as much to dissipate this unworthy thought as to fight the rising illness he felt engulfing him. Feverishly, he thought to occupy his mind, just to distract it from the more than unpleasant feelings threatening to overcome his entire being. He began to review the hours preceding the momentous events that had just passed, and found himself drifting into diverse memories.<BR><BR>First to come to his mind was a brief encounter with Orowë, this bright young elf who seemed so eager to go, and with whom he had exchanged a few words as they rushed out of Tirion. "I wonder which ship he's on...", mused Alkarion as he grabbed at a coil or rope nearby at one of the ship's more pronounced lurches to starboard. Steadying himself against the wild movements of the deck underneath him (with a sudden chuckle Alkarion thought of playing with the horses in the Tirion stables, so long ago it now seemed), he swallowed hard and steadied his will <i>not</i> to fall prey to the retching illness which afflicted so many around him.<BR><BR>Alkarion sat straighter, inhaled deeply, and felt a bit better. He let his mind wander a bit more.<BR><BR>The memory of passing by a beautiful maiden in a slower group as Fingon's host was rushing towards Alqualondë struck him suddenly. As any young male elf was wont to do, Alkarion enjoyed looking at young females and detailing appreciatively (or not) what he could detect at first glance. This one, though, had seemed to be more than just another pretty object. Her eyes were so bright, her demeanor so clear that he had looked back a second time before rushing to join his group again. Yes, she was the prettiest elf he had seen in a very long time...<BR><BR>A thunderous crash with a rending overtone of broken timber interrupted Alkarion's musings. He sprang to his feet, struggling against the ship's vicious lurch, and peered overboard, and heard Fingon's unheeded cry of "Look out!" at the same time as he saw two of the nearest ships smashing into one another in the roaring see. The wind whistled around Alkarion's ears as he lunged perilously over the railing, trying to see through the darkness. All he could see was wild flotsam, as if the two mighty ships he had just beheld a moment ago were now nothing but the broken fragments of a child's angry crushing at a no longer wanted toy. Alkarion fell to his knees as tears welled to his eyes, but he felt a hand gripping his shoulder and looked up.<BR><BR>Fingon was hovering over him. "Was either one the ship Maehdros was on?" Fingon's face was twisted in anxiety.<BR><BR>"Master, how should I know? I boarded our vessel at the same time you did, and Feänor's host was already speeding away. Who would know which of his sons took which ship?"<BR><BR>Fingon's hand relaxed a little as he sighed, "Aye, you know as little as I do, and I shouldn't have expected my faithful herald to have prescience as well as musical talent..."<BR><BR>At this, the ship lurched once more and Fingon rushed back up the short flight of stairs to the command post. Following his master's ascent, Alkarion thought once more how unwise it had been to dispose of all of the ones who would best know how to handle such stormy seas. He once more grabbed urgently at the railing as the ship wildly pitched again in its unchecked flight into the darkness of the North. He fought the rising nausea by imagining the pretty maiden's face and her huge, anxious eyes.<BR>
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Postby Alkarion » Sun Mar 31, 2002 6:03 pm

The newbie did a double post by double-clicking, duh. <img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-blush.gif"border=0>
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Postby Celebrimbor32 » Sun Mar 31, 2002 10:02 pm

The graceful ships of the Teleri continued to hold their northern course adjacent to the coasts of Aman. Thus far, Feanor had prevailed and had succeeded in usurping control of the Teleri fleets, yet he could not control the wrath of Ossë. What was not long ago a calm and tranquil sea, had now become a violent one. For Ossë dearly loved the the elves of the Teleri and was wrathful for their wicked treatment at the hands of the Noldor. In retribution for their deeds, Ossë caused the the waves of the sea to rise to great heights and toss the vessels this way and that, and would have achieved the untimely demise of Feanor and his host, but the Valar would not allow him to interfere directly with the flight of the Noldor, and thus they were saved from destruction. Nevertheless, the storm did not abate at once, and many of the ships were broken and ruined and their mariners swallowed up by the waves. <BR><BR>There, still aboard the final ship, was Orowë. He no longer had leisure to reflect upon his recent deeds, for he had now more urgent matters to look to. As the storm clouds hovered above them and the waves threatened to drag their vessels down into it's shadowy bossom, Orowë still sought to aid the few wounded comrades who had fought fiercely back at the havens of Alqualondë. But now the rain began to fall from the skies and it pelted the decks of the ship with fury. Orowë was now hard pressed to stand on his own two feet, let alone tend to his comrades in need. He had just finished applying bandages to a nearby elf, before the ship again took a violent swing to starboard. Suddenly, a great wave washed across the deck, knocking Orowë from his feet again. He looked up just in time to behold the wounded mariner grasping vainly at the ropes ere he was swept overboard and into the raging tempest, his cry lost in the swirling winds.<BR><BR>The hour was indeed dark. The darkest yet that Orowë had experienced in his short life. As he struggled upon the deck, he could see others around him who were shouting out orders to their fellow comrades, but it was to no avail. They had all become soaking wet and were in danger of being capsized at any minute. Lightning flashed above them, providing them with but a mere momentary flash of light to see by, for the bright evening stars were now obscured.<BR><BR>Orowë now felt as if he had little choice. He must lash himself to one of the wooden railings by rope, or else risk being swept overboard. <BR><BR>By good fortune, he managed to dart across the deck and cut loose a coil of rope that flapped haggardly in the wind. He quickly found a sturdy rail and tied himself to it around his waist. There he stood desparately in great fear, for several of his mates had already gone into the raging sea. A few others now lay motionless on the floor of the deck, slain by previous wounds or by falling debris. <BR><BR>Out of the corner of his eye, Orowë could see two ships crashing into one another, their slender masts snapping in half. He tried to close his eyes and wait for death to overtake him, but he found it immpossible. Instead, he turned his faltering gaze toward the shores of Valinor, which still lay not far away from them. His thoughts quickly meandered between his family and his beloved city of Tirion, which he now knew he would never behold again. He heard himself crying amidst the roaring of the wind and waves, " Ulmo, lord of waters! Forgive us our folly! Will you not take pity on us? "....
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Postby Carnimiriel » Mon Apr 01, 2002 9:25 am

That night (if it was indeed night, for she had completely lost her sense of day and night when the two trees were destroyed), Anarrima lay awake alone in the tent she usually shared with her aunt, Galadriel, and two other maidens. She was still stunned by her father's betrayal, and had spoken little to him during dinner. Feigning weariness, she had retired to the tent, but really, Anarrima just wanted to be alone.<BR><BR>She thought of what her grandfather Finarfin had said during dinner, upon seeing the storms that raged just off the coast, bringing rain and chill air to those who trod the rocky path by land.<BR><BR>"I fear that the road we now tread is a road of woe and suffering for our people. Alas for us that we have spurned the friendship of the Valar! We will receive no aid from them on this quest."<BR><BR>All listened to the bitter words of Finarfin, as he was accounted among the wisest of the Noldor, but Finrod his son, who with his sister Galadriel was most eager to depart the Undying Lands, said in answer,<BR><BR>"But the Valar could not save our King, your father, from Melkor's treachery. Let Feanor and his host destroy themselves in pursuit of the Silmarilli. Then Fingolfin the Valiant will lead us to victory to avenge our wrongs."<BR><BR>As he finished speaking, Finrod looked towards the North, where the fires of Fingolfin's camp burned brightly not too far from theirs.<BR><BR>Finrod's counsel brought many nods and murmurs of agreement, for he stood tall and mighty among the Princes of the Noldor. Then his sister Galadriel stood beside him, powerful and radiant, whose hair some said still shone with the mingled lights of Laurelin and Telperion.<BR><BR>"There are lands across the Seas which we may rule to our hearts content, where we can use our knowledge and craft without the interference of the Valar. If we remain in Valinor, we are simply children, who will never be able to come to our full strength and power in the shadow of those who rule it. The Noldor are a mighty House. Is it not time for us to claim what is ours by right?"<BR><BR>There were cheers in reply to Galadriel's speech, for she was proud and her pride touched them all. In her deep, melodious voice was the power to inspire many, and even her brothers looked to her for counsel and guidance.<BR><BR>But Anarrima's heart was full of misgivings as she lay on her cot remembering all that had been said.<BR><BR>"Oh Mother..." She whispered into her pillow, "Our leaving the Blessed Realm is pure folly. How I wish I were still with you..."<BR><BR>Behind her, Anarrima could hear the flap of the tent opening, and so she lay very still, not wanting to have to talk to Galadriel or the other women who shared their tent.<BR><BR>"She is asleep." Galadriel said, and the flap of the tent closed again.<BR><BR>"But perhaps on the morrow, you can talk to her?" Anarrima recognized her father's worried sounding voice. "She misses her mother greatly. I don't know how to help her."<BR><BR>"And you think I do?" Galadriel's voice sounded vaguely amused. "I did not come on this journey to play nursemaid to my brother's children. And Anarrima is not a child. Her coming of age was, what, three years past?"<BR><BR>There was a moment of silence, and then Aegnor mumbled something that Anarrima did not understand, and Galadriel laughed. Even her laugh was rich and melodious.<BR><BR>"Do not think, dear brother, that I am leaving Valinor only to be saddled with the household tasks while you and my brothers seek glory. I have no child of my own. Why should I tend to yours?"<BR><BR>Anarrima's cheeks felt hot with shame as she heard her aunt's harsh sounding words, and her father's unintelligible reply. She was somewhat in awe of Galadriel, though she found her aunt rather mystifying.<BR><BR>But her ears perked up again as she heard Galadriel say, "I will help her if I can, Aegnor. But I am not a nursemaid and I am not her mother. She is young and fragile. I've scarcely seen her do anything but weep since we left Tirion. And yet I think it is well that you brought her."<BR><BR>There was a strange tone to Galadriel's voice in her last statement, which brought an excited response from Aegnor, "Then you have seen something, sister? Something of the future! Tell me what it is you see."<BR><BR>"I see nothing clearly." Galadriel replied, "but I think that even that frightened little creature you call daughter may have a part to play, before the tale is told. Or perhaps her descendents."<BR><BR>Aegnor mumbled something else, and then Anarrima heard the crunch of rocks underfoot as he apparently went back to his own tent. The tent flap opened once more and Galadriel quietly entered, but then she startled Anarrima by coming to her cot and pulling back the blanket sharply.<BR><BR>Anarrima gasped and her eyes flew open to look at Galadriel, her aunt's face illuminated by a single candle.<BR><BR>"You were listening, weren't you?" Galadriel asked, and her expression was unreadable.<BR><BR>"I...I was. I"m sorry..." Anarrima stuttered, feeling her cheeks flush with shame once more. The worst of it was, she was afraid she would start to cry and just prove that she was the sniveling, weak creature her aunt seemed to think she was.<BR><BR>"Don't be sorry." Galadriel said, and it seemed that her demeanor softened. "Keep listening. You might learn something."<BR><BR>Without another word, Galadriel blew out her candle and slid into her own cot for the night. Anarrima lay awake a while longer, listening to the gentle rain which had begun to fall, and the chirps of insects outside the tent. She pondered what had been said at dinner and what she had overheard, but she was too weary to make sense of it all. At last, she fell into a dreamless sleep.
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Postby Elbren » Mon Apr 01, 2002 5:32 pm

Glorfindel and three Elves from his House rode out from the camp of Fingolfin well before the host had even broke their fast from the night. During the night, a storm had raged upon the sea, and though the worst of it remained well off shore, the winds and rains had pelted the Noldorin camps relentlessly.<BR><BR>Glorfindel had been summoned to Fingolfin's tent during the worst of the tempest. Trudging through the loose rock and mud, the Elven Lord had obediently answered, his cloak pulled tightly around him to fight off the damp and cold.<BR><BR>"I worry of my brother," Fingolfin had said to Glorfindel. <BR><BR>Once inside the tent, Glorfindel had found that Fingolfin was alone, sitting with only a single lantern burning, his face tight with worry.<BR><BR>"I assume you mean...Feanor," Glorfindel answered, settling into a chair and shaking off the damp cloak.<BR><BR>"What? Oh...yes, of course," Fingolfin replied, running his fingers through his golden hair. "The storm is without mercy. It's almost as if--"<BR><BR>"It is," Glorfindel pronounced as Fingolfin looked up sharply, "it is more than a storm. It is wrath and anger and it is directed at Feanor and his...the ships that he has taken."<BR><BR>Fingolfin's face dropped at Glorfindel's words and he shook his head, even as he crushed his hands into two fists and pounded them into his own thighs, "Oh, Elbereth save us! It is as we feared, is it not?"<BR><BR>Glorfindel sighed, for even as Fingolfin asked the question, knowing the truth, there was still a note of pleading within the tone.<BR><BR>"Do you wish for the truth, Fingolfin?" Glorfindel leaned forward, "you don't need me to tell you what happened at Alqualonde."<BR><BR>"My father is dead," Fingolfin's voice was a whisper of melancholy, "the first death of our kind--"<BR><BR>"No," Glorfindel reminded him sharply, "Miriel died well before Finwe was slain."<BR><BR>"Yes...yes, of course...she died and--"<BR><BR>"She refused to return, you recall, because she said that she had given too much of herself into Feanor," Glorfindel's voice was tinged with bitterness.<BR><BR>"My father told you too much!" It was Fingolfin's turn to snap, and his eyes were bright, "I know that you think my brother is driven by nothing more than greed and pride; but there is more at stake for our people than his beloved Silmarils."<BR><BR>"And that," Glorfindel said calmly, "is precisely why I am here. Morgoth stole Feanor's treasures, this is true; but, he betrayed and misled our people with his evil and malice, and now he goes to do the same to Middle Earth. I cannot sit idly by in Valinor while he ravages and destroys at will."<BR><BR>Fingolfin sat in thought for a moment, but then his eyes snapped back towards his friend, "If you are not concerned for Feanor, then are you not concerned for Fingon? He is on one of those ships!"<BR><BR>Glorfindel nodded his head slowly, "I am very concerned for Fingon...and others."<BR><BR>Fingolfin frowned, "Then will you help me?"<BR><BR>"I will always help you, Fingolfin."<BR><BR>"Then ride to the shore and see if you can find any sign of their passing..any sign of where we should try to meet their rendezvous."<BR><BR>Glorfindel stood without hesitation and bowed his head, "Of course."<BR><BR>*************************<BR><BR>Choosing three more warriors from his House of the Golden Flower, Glorfindel rode at Fingolfin's bidding to search the shore for any sign of Feanor's passing. The sea was still raging, dark and dreadful as it crashed into the shore. Glorfindel's horse shied from the power issuing forth from the waters, even as the Elven Lord urged him on with his heels and voice.<BR><BR>It did not take long to see the first remnants of the fleet's passing: Broken timbers, a torn piece of sail, crates of scattered supplies. Glorfindel dismounted and waded into the waves, retrieving the sail cloth. He turned back towards his brethern and shouted, "I fear that the storm has taken some of the ships into the deep!"<BR><BR>The wind tried to steal Glorfindel's words, but his comrades had heard him. Despite the wailing of the sea, the scene was a sobering one: The image of the Elven Lord, knee deep in the waves as white foam crashed around him, holding the dripping and limp sail cloth in his two hands, was a lasting one. His white horse stood close by, having waded out to his master, even though the angry sea nearly froze his heart with fear.<BR><BR>Glorfindel remounted and then rode to his companions on the shore, "Let us ride a little farther, if anyone managed to survive, they may yet be found." Though he did not say, his thought was bent upon Fingon and the others who followed him. <BR><BR>The four Elves rode for several hours, and though they found more evidence of ships that had been lashed and smote by the sea, they found no living or dead. It was with a heavy heart that Glorfindel turned and began the ride back to the host of Fingolfin with the news of what they had found.<BR><BR>
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Postby Celebrimbor32 » Sat Apr 06, 2002 2:45 pm

The ferocity of the storm had taken the hosts of Fëanor at unawares, for they had not anticipated any interference of their quest by the Valar, for so they now deemed it ( mistakenly, as they soon learned ). The great fleet of the Telerin ships were the strongest and fairest that had sailed the seas since the coming of the children of Iluvatar to Aman, and their like were never matched again, save only by those of the Numenoreans many years later. Yet the wrath of Ossë was very great, and the ensuing tempest that arose from that anger proved to be too powerful for many of the ships to endure, and thus a large number of the ships were drowned beneath the waves, and the Noldorin mariners that manned them came never again back to their beloved cities within Valinor, nor would they ever see the new lands of Middle-earth which they sought.<BR><BR>Yet many of the stolen vessels were saved from the destruction and managed to find their way out of the chaos and back to the coasts of Aman, though now their numbers were halved. Their ships were now far too few to bear the entire host of the Noldor across the wide sea and into Beleriand. Fëanor, who had been saved from the storm, was well aware of this, though he concealed this knowledge from all others for the time being.<BR><BR>Now Orowë had boarded the final ship after the kinslaying at Alqualondë and, by good fortune, that vessel had escaped complete destruction from the storm. However, many of it's occupants were battered by the enveloping waves and were tossed overboard to their demise. Others, believing that the end of the world was at hand and that their doom had caught up with them for their past deeds, lost courage and cast themselves into the sea, for their minds were filled with confusion and doubt and their wisdom had failed them.<BR><BR>Yet also their were those that had regained their wits even amid the swirling winds and waves, and they had tied themselves securely to masts and railings to prevent themselves from being swept overboard and being drowned. Orowë had done just this and now found himself sitting on deck up against the entranceway into the cabin. He blinked several times as he opened his eyes once again, for he had thought that he had lost his sight, for all around him was as black as pitch, for the night stars were hidden behind thick clouds laden with rain and hail. Yet, for the time being, the rain had ceased, though the waves were still excessively high. He turned his head this way and that, hoping to see some sign that he had not perished in the storm and was still among the living in Arda. An occassional flash of lightning quickly reassured him that he was indeed still alive and aboard the Telerin ship, though still in a perilous plight. <BR><BR>Orowë then became aware that he was in pain, for the ropes that bound him securely to the railing, dug in deep into his waist. He tried vainly to unfasten them in the darkness, but to little avail. He then cried out into the darkness, " Is there any left alive to hear me!? I am in pain! " <BR><BR>To his surprise, his call was answered by another, who replied, " Aye! We are here! We had thought that there were no other survivors. Wait, we will come to you! " answered the voice. <BR><BR>Within seconds, Orowë could see two elves approaching him from the prow of the ship. One of them had managed to alight one of the lanterns from the hull. Quickly they came up to him and cut loose the ropes that had saved his life. They introduced themselves as Camthalion and Falastur, two elves of Fingon's host. They then aided Orowë to his feet saying, " You were wise to tie yourself down like this. I marvel that you managed to do so amid so violent a storm! Others were not as fortunate. You are only among five others that we have found thus far. " <BR><BR>By the light of the lantern, Orowë looked down at his waistband and saw that the ropes had cut deeply into his skin, and several open cuts were now burning from the salt water. He grit his teeth. " What of the other ships? Where is Fingon, our lord? "<BR><BR>" He was not aboard this ship, " replied Camthalion, " We believe him to have boarded one of the ships in front of us, though we know not if he was spared from the storm. " <BR><BR>Orowë suddenly remembered the brief glimpse he had seen of two ships colliding into one another, not far away, amid the raging tempest. " That does not bode well, " he said, " It will be too great a loss for us to overcome if he has perished! Our quest will surely fail without him. "<BR><BR>" Our failure might already be at hand, Orowë, " replied Falastur. " Against my better wisdom did I resign myself to join this contingent, and bitterly now do I rue it! The storm has diminished now, but we are without direction and without the light of the stars to see by. In which direction shall we now turn? "<BR><BR>" What of Fëanor and his seven sons? " asked Orowë. <BR><BR>" It is unknown, though all of them are surely upon the first of the ships that left the harbors, " said Falastur. " Perhaps they have all drowned, so that we may now be rid of them once and for all and may follow Fingon and his father. " <BR><BR>Orowë took no notice of that comment, and instead began to assist in the tending of the few remaining survivors of their ship. Of the beginning two dozen or so that had boarded the ship in haste back at the havens, only eight now remained. They felt that they had not strayed very far from the coasts of Valinor, yet they could not be sure, for all was dark around them, and the waves were still very high. They then took one of the last two lanterns remaining to them and fastened it securely to the prow of the ship to serve as a beacon for any who might descry them from afar....<BR><BR>
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Postby sraedi » Sun Apr 07, 2002 12:02 am

She had remained in this tent well into the night, to keep Elenwe and Idril company under the light of lanterns, while Turgon was away taking charge of numerous matters; she wanted to watch over them and be at hand, should they have any need or fears. The night was wide and dark, while the storm seemed to be at it’s fullest wrath, wilder than Aredhel had ever seen, and it had taken its tow on Elenwe’s mood, as she confined in Aredhel amid sighs and a furrowed brow.<BR><BR>“…lady, this is folly! To disgrace ourselves like this, turning away from the Valar and their generous hands. Being as foul Melkor would have us be! Me and my daughter, we shall follow to where Turgon leads us, but why should he follow the track of Feanor, why should we all suffer this and submit ourselves to this exiled kin and his sons?” - Her fair face was tainted scarlet with what seemed to Aredhel, amalgam of shame and anger. She could have answered with her own thoughts and hopes, telling of the vast wilderness of Beleriand and what realms they would forge there; speaking of what great lords her brothers and all descendants of Finwe would be; convincing her that even if amid much peril and sorrow, the value of the freedom of the Noldor was tenfold to the wellness and bliss Valinor could offer. But seeing how affected the wife of her brother was and remembering the love of the Vanyar for their white towers and houses in the undying lands, she simply sat beside her and listened as best her patience allowed her, while Idril layed asleep, with her head resting on her mother’s lap.<BR><BR>When she left, the night had grown colder and fiercer still, and she exited quickly to fence any winds from entering Turgon’s tent, where both mother and child where now asleep. She grasped a heavy fur cloak closer to herself and as she lifted her lantern to try and see under such precarious weather, a swift wind snatched it’s flame away, so she traveled the rest of her way in darkness. And as she was almost at her tent, which stood aside that of her father, she saw the amber glow from its inside reach forth as it flapped open for an instant, and she recognized Glorfindel when he exited the warmth of the tent and walked into the storm. Her eyes narrowed to focus, but she failed to see the expression on Glorfindel’s face, for he wore none.<BR><BR>Now, Aredhel was still young of heart, even if it had been quite some time since her coming of age had passed, and she was as ever she would be: of an avid curiosity, tempestuous of spirit and joyous , even in hopeless moments. So she was quick to follow those of the House of the Golden Flower, for it was strange that four would set out to ride under such a storm unless it was a matter of great urge. Riding her own mare unsaddled, her secrecy aided by her well known hunting skills and the cloak of such a night as this one, she followed. By the manner of their ride, she could tell they were searching for something and her heart felt for Glorfindel as he faced the raged oceans and turned back with a grim countenance.<BR><BR>She contined her pursuit with a burden in her chest, but it was when the riders of Glorfindel found the remains of the ships and she had seen them after passing a line of barrows, that she witnessed the wreckage in disbelief. She remained upon her steed motionless, careless now of being found by Glorfindel and his riders as they turned back, for all she could see was the ships of the Teleri, once great and proud, turning into dark omens as they stood like broken bones upon the shore.
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Postby Elbren » Mon Apr 08, 2002 5:47 pm

It was with a heavy heart, full of foreboding, that Glorfindel looked to the sea. He patted his horse's head as the raging surf reached for them, searching the horizon for any distant sail. The storm seemed to be abating, and the stars were beginning to brighten overhead. A wind was coming from the North, cold and tinged with ice, and the clouds were fleeing before it. Glorfindel nodded his head as if he understood the wind's voice, for indeed, it seemed that it sang as it danced around them. <BR><BR>Casting his gaze upon the calming sea, he could now see far into the mist and deep waters, but he saw not the ships of Feanor nor any distant standard. <BR><BR><i>Feanor's pride has slain more of my people</i> Glorfindel thought bitterly.<BR><BR>He clucked to Nimroch, his horse, and together they turned from the dark waters.<BR><BR>Glorfindel's three companions waited for their Lord near some of the wreckage that they had found. <BR><BR>"Shall we return now?" Edrahil asked, pulling his cloak tightly around his shoulders, "the cold of the north is not far away. I think that we have our answer for Fingolfin."<BR><BR>"We may," Glorfindel replied quietly, "and even if we do not, he should know what we have found and that the storm is passing."<BR><BR>A lone rider was suddenly espied near a collection of driftwood and ship wreckage, and for a moment, Glorfindel's heart leapt that maybe they had found a survivor after all. A closer look, though, and he recognised her: Aredhel, sister of Turgon and Fingon, and daughter to Fingolfin.<BR><BR>Glorfindel galloped over to her and soon saw the dread written upon her face. He hesitated before he spoke, "Lady Aredhel, well met. You....have seen what the sea has left us to find."<BR><BR>Aredhel nodded, "These are ill omens indeed, Glorfindel."<BR><BR>"Do not despair...not yet. There were many ships taken, Lady, and the wreckage here is but a few. My heart tells me that some of them survived and that we will find them. Come, let us ride back to the host of your father and rest. The wind is cold and the sea is yet angry, though the worst of it has passed, I think."<BR><BR>"Do you think we will find them yet?" Edrahil asked as they began to ride south again along the shoreline.<BR><BR>"We may," Glorfindel replied thoughtfully, "we may indeed."<BR><BR><i>How many ships made it?</i> he wondered, <i>and was Feanor's among them?</i><BR><BR>**************************<BR><BR>They met with Fingolfin and Turgon at the lead of the first host of Elves, having heard the report, they then determined to camp and await Finarfin's arrival. <BR><BR>"We need his counsel," Fingolfin said as the tents were erected and fires began to kindle along the rocky shore.<BR><BR>"His heart was not set upon leaving Tirion," Glorfindel reminded them as he helped set the poles for the King's shelter. <BR><BR>"There are many who would leave now, if the walk home were not so long," this was Elenwe, Turgon's wife, who had come to join them.<BR><BR>Glorfindel embraced his sister and whispered, "But you are not among them, are you?"<BR><BR>Elenwe smiled as she leaned into him, "We all have our roads to travel, Brother; mine leads to the Hither Lands."<BR><BR>Finally, the massive tent was standing and a fire built within it. Soon, the royal family and nobles were gathered inside, sheltered against the blustery winds, and enjoying what warm supper they could prepare.<BR><BR>"You sent Edrahil to tell Finarfin that we await him, yes?" Fingolfin asked of Glorfindel.<BR><BR>"Yes," he replied, filling his bowl with warm broth and tearing off a piece of brown, nutty bread, "he will deliver your message, M'Lord."<BR><BR>"Good," Fingolfin leaned forward, closer to the fire, and stretched out his hands for its warmth, "so, you think there were survivors?"<BR><BR>Glorfindel suddenly felt all eyes fall to him, "I do indeed, M'Lord. Those were Teleri ships, and even if they were taken cruelly---" Glorfindel nearly choked on his words; he had spoken rashly, he feared, but then hurried on, "even if they were taken....they are well built. Many will have weathered the anger of the sea."<BR><BR>"The sea is angry?!" Idril was sitting nearby, her eyes wide.<BR><BR>Glorfindel adored his niece and he felt badly that he had alarmed her, "The sea has many moods, dear Idril," he smiled, "it is calming now, though, and see? Listen to its song....it will be a soothing lullabye for thee this night."<BR><BR>Idril's eyes sparkled as she smiled back at her Uncle, "I hear it!"<BR><BR>"Now," Fingolfin interrupted, anxious to have his fears laid aside, "where would they put ashore then? Is there a haven nearby where they might come in?"<BR><BR>"I know not," Glorfindel shrugged, "others might. Perhaps those who have sailed with the Teleri up the coast?"<BR><BR>"I cannot say," Turgon sat down heavily beside his daughter.<BR><BR>"This road that we travel is not an easy one," Elenwe brought more water to the cauldron of broth as she spoke, "even if Fingon were with us here on shore, the road to the Hither Lands is long."<BR><BR>"Aye, but the whole point of Feanor taking---" Fingolfin pursed his lips at the memory, "the ships are to take us across the sea! We cannot risk the peril of the Ice."<BR><BR>"Morgoth and his demon did," Glorfindel's voice was low.<BR><BR>"I hardly put us in that same circumstance," Fingolfin scolded.<BR><BR>"Perhaps not, but if I must take the Ice to find Morgoth and find the far shore, then that is the path that I will take."<BR><BR>Turgon looked up at Glorfindel's words and nodded, "As will I." He looked then to his wife, who smiled at him.
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Postby Alkarion » Mon Apr 08, 2002 7:13 pm

Waves still battered the vessel as a toy shell in a tub agitated by a boy's overbearing hand, but the intensity had begun to decrease. Alkarion had managed to remain onboard in spite of the raging, crushing waves sweeping the deck by imitating what he had seen many others hastily accomplish in the midst of the fury of the storm sweeping bodies over the railing: he had tied himself around a mast with a providentially-found coil of rope. The darkness that had fallen was not really dissipating; yet, blinking salty tears away from his eyes, Alkarion spied a distant, bobbing light not too far away. "Another ship! Then all have not perished", thought Alkarion with a wave of thankfulness to Elbereth for not forsaking them.<BR><BR>The sounds of the rushing wind and the assaulting swells were indeed beginning to recede, and the erratic motions of the ship, while still ample, were ebbing somewhat. Enough that Alkarion dared to untie the knot of rope he had hastily woven, clumsily, almost dreamily, and at once he was actually standing on the deck, no longer battered around by gale and rushing foam and wild pitch of deck. Straddling in a wide stance, however awkwardly, Alkarion peered at the next ship's beacon whose prow he now could vaguely discern. As the sound of the wind died down he could even descry muffled sounds of voices coming from starboard as well, and turning his head he saw another ship painfully maneuver to set a course parallel to his vessel's. He barely could make sense of the exchange of shouts across the now safe space separating the ships, but took it as a sign that both were now firmly in the hands of their crews - however improvised those might have been in such hard circumstances. Cringing suddenly, he let a lone tear well and slowly fall down his cheek as he thought about all the valiant elves he knew had already been swallowed by the storm's fury.<BR><BR>Slowly staggering to the other side and leaning on the railing, Alkarion peered westward, his gaze straining as far as it could reach. Beyond the blackness of the still tumultuous waves it seemed that there was a faint jagged line that did not move... "The shore ! We are getting close to the shore!" yelled Alkarion as he raced towards the stairway leading to the command deck, hoping that someone's hand was still at the tiller.
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Postby Celebrimbor32 » Mon Apr 08, 2002 10:23 pm

" I will not follow the fool-hardy counsels of a murderer, dear Amarethiel, " thus spoke Linuilë, sister of Celedhros, to Amarethiel, his wife. The tumultuous night had run it's course and a starlit dawn had now emerged from it's reclusive den of storm clouds, for the tempest that had raged over the sea had at last subsided, though the winds had not. As they sat together preparing their early-morning meal, Linuilë and Amarethiel talked together about the turn of events that had transpired among their people and to what end they might lead them all. Though they had nestled their tent within a patch of tall evergreens over-looking the coasts, the wind gusts continued to roll in from the sea. The trees creeked and groaned around them as they swayed in the wind.<BR><BR>" Try to stay your anger and withhold your judgement for now, Linuilë " replied Amarethiel, " for we have, as of yet, no proof that Fëanor has committed murder, nor any of his sons. It is true he has often proved himself to be haughty and ungenerous to all save his own family, yet I do not deem him to be a traitor. "<BR><BR>" You give him more credit than he deserves. He begrudged Yavanna the light of his Silmarils to rejuivinate both Laurelin and Telperion - a light that came into being by Yavanna's thought alone, and not Fëanor's. When the Valar needed his aid the most, he refused it, thinking only of himself and not for the common good of all the folk in Aman. And as for his conduct, what good has he achieved so far? He wantonly disobeyed the law of the Valar and returned to Tirion in defiance, though he knew full well had been sentenced to temporary exile....And now we hear rumors of an uprising at Alqualondë at the very time Fëanor and his sons came thither to meet the Teleri? I call that a mysterious cooincidence indeed! Do not doubt the guile of this unruly prince, Amarethiel, " Linuilë's voice trailed off a bit as she refilled her drinking vessel. <BR><BR>" Yet, that is still no proof of murder, " argued Amarethiel, " Like you, I do not trust Fëanor, but I also wonder much at the circumstances that led to all this madness. It is known to all that the Valar did not favor us departing Aman for Middle-earth. If you speak of cooincidences, what then of this sudden storm that has arose upon the sea at the same time we have chosen to depart? "<BR><BR>" What of it? " asked Linuilë.<BR><BR>" There are some that believe that Manwë has called upon Ossë to raise the sea against us and perhaps even persuaded the Teleri to waylay Fëanor in ambush as he drew near to Alqualondë, " said Amarethiel.<BR><BR>" I do not believe it, " replied Linuilë. " And you should not either, dear sister-in-law, for the Valar have ever cherished and protected the Noldor, even before our forefathers and Foremothers first awoke in Cuiviènen long ago...Save one only, of course, " her voice hesitated a moment before going on, " and of Melkor, we shall forever now be at odds with him, I deem. At least as long as we continue to follow Fëanor, for he has become fey and will not be satisfied until one of them is dead...and you know who that will be...."<BR><BR>" Alas, this I know all too well now, " answered Amarethiel, " for I had even forseen this even before we departed Tirion. Yet it is Celedhros' will that we will make a new home for ourselves in Middle-earth, and my husband is stubborn, once he has resigned himself to something, and is difficult to be persuaded. And I, for my part, will not abandon my beloved now, for I also desire to see the unguarded lands across the sea. " Amarethiel leaned closer to Linuilë and held her gaze for a moment in silence, attempting to read her thoughts, " I am beginning to believe that you now have second thoughts about the journey, am I correct? "<BR><BR>Linuilë raised her drinking vessel to her mouth and drained the contents before replying, " I, too, love my brother and, like you, would not leave him now, though my heart already yearns for home. I do not wish to break my promise to him, for I have already given him my word that I would join you both upon this quest, even though our sister, Aruilë, did not....I only wish that Celedhros had not heeded the counsels of Melkor within Aulë's guild of smiths. I fear that the lies of Melkor have sown seeds of greed and haste, not only in Fëanor's heart, but in Celedhros' as well..."<BR><BR>Now Celedhros had talked late into the night with Glorfindel in his quarters, and had later strolled around through the woods to sort out his thoughts on the Noldor's future deeds and their intended route of travel before returning to his own tent, where his sister and wife were resting. <BR><BR>Upon returning, he had overheard part of the discussion between Amarethiel and Linuilë just outide the entrance to their tent. After Linuilë had spoken these last words, Celedhros thrust open the door to the tent in anger and replied, " I am my own man, Linuilë, and not a waif or pupil of a former jailcrow! Tis' true, I have been present among Melkor's speeches and have heeded some of his lectures on smithying and forging, but have confined my ears to that and that alone! Is it not enough that I must now live with the embarresment and shame of that, knowing that I once took counsel with the one responsible for the death of our king and the extinguisher of the lights of the trees? " <BR><BR>" Do not be cross, my love, " said Amarethiel gently, as she arose and came forward to him, " We are both with you now, as ever we shall be. " <BR><BR>" Amarethiel speaks for me also, dear brother, for I meant no ill towards you. " <BR><BR>Celedhros looked at them both silently for a moment before nodding his head, " I know it, and I am grateful to have both of you with me now, for we will need each other's comfort, ere all is done. " He then went over to his bed and put on his silver breast plate, that bore the emblem of Fingolfin's house. " Come! Put on your cloaks, for the wind had turned chill now. Finarfin and his host has arrived and we will attend a counsel meeting to decide upon our next course of direction. " <BR><BR>Together, the three family members left the tent and made straight away for the quarters of Fingolfin....
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Postby asaris » Tue Apr 09, 2002 10:08 am

As the storm died down, Curufë pried his cold hands off of the rope he had been holding onto for dear life. His clothes were soiled in vomit and soaked with the salt spray of the ocean, and he walked unsteadly over to the helm, where Fëanor had held the ship on course, mainly by the force of his will.<BR><BR>"We should stop for a time, brother," Curufë said. "We have been driven much north of the host on land, and should give them time to catch up, and allow us to retrieve some warmth." Fëanor nodded, and signaled the rest of the fleet to seek landfall. Curufë looked around at the fleet -- of the ships they had left Alqualondë with, only half were with them, though undoubtedly several other had survived the storm but been blown off course. He cursed the pride of the Teleri. If they had come with them, probably none of the ships had been lost.<BR><BR>For his part, Fëanor steered towards a nearby bay slightly north of the present position of the ships. The fleet made landfall, and Curufë, Fëanor, and the seven sons held council.
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Postby Elbren » Tue Apr 09, 2002 12:38 pm

Glorfindel stood near Turgon as the Noldor gathered within the tent of Fingolfin. There were many Elves present, in fact, the tent was rapidly filling and many were having to stand outside in the weather, though within earshot. At the rear of the tent, standing and conversing in low tones, were Fingolfin and his brother, Finarfin. Galadriel, beautiful and almost unapproachable in her pride, stood near her father, and to her right was Finrod. All were tall and shining, intent with their own purposes, though not all had been voiced. <BR><BR>The tent was quickly filled with warmth from all present and the constant hum of conversation droned on. Glorfindel said little and Turgon took note of it.<BR><BR>"You seem far away," Turgon commented.<BR><BR>"No, I am here," Glorfindel replied, "but...something...it is as if I see a flame out of the corner of my eye."<BR><BR>"Odd," Turgon's eyebrows raised, "nothing more than that?"<BR><BR>Glorfindel was about to reply when Fingolfin called the gathering to order. There was an immediate hush and a feeling of expectancy fell upon them all.<BR><BR>"We have sent scouts to the North and have reports that indeed there have been ships lost in the storm," he began, "yet, there were many ships...gone to sea and we have reason to believe that some have indeed survived."<BR><BR>"We have not seen them?" someone called out, "we have not seen any surviving ships?"<BR><BR>"And what of Alqualonde? What happened there?" another cried out.<BR><BR>"Did Feanor take the ships---" yet another voice began.<BR><BR>"ALL IN GOOD TIME!" Fingolfin silenced them, not with a little anger, "let us not allow our emotions to waylay our course."<BR><BR>"Nay, let us not, for that is what drives Feanor, and we have yet to know truly what that course has been," that was Ecthelion.<BR><BR>Fingolfin sighed, looked to Finarfin for support, and saw none, "I see that we are determined to know."<BR><BR>"And why shouldn't we? If blood was shed...HOW that blood was shed...it is an ill deed that will follow us upon OUR course!"<BR><BR>Shouting then erupted with angry words and it took a long while before order could be established again. It was Galadriel who finally gained the upper hand and silenced the arguing.<BR><BR>"Then ask he who was there."<BR><BR>Every head in the gathering turned to the softly spoken words; and there, stepping into the tent with his sons was Feanor. With him was Fingon and others, and though there was much delight and joy in many, others were loathe that Feanor was amongst them again.<BR><BR>Glorfindel met the eyes of Feanor but briefly, but in that swift encounter, Glorfindel had his answer: Feanor had murdered his kin. Within those fiery eyes was death and betrayal...and the ever-present pride. Glorfindel broke the contact first and looked away. His heart was heavy in his chest and his stomach lurched with the truth.<BR><BR>Feanor made his way to his brothers and the crowd parted for him as he passed. He had a smile upon his face that, for some, was victorious, and for others, sickening.<BR><BR>"Do I have no words of greeting from my brothers?" Feanor challenged.<BR><BR>"Welcome, brother," Fingolfin said tentatively and then embraced him.<BR><BR>Finarfin said nothing, but watched Feanor warily.<BR><BR>"We have come far," Feanor continued to smile, "and our paths meet again. We have the ships to cross to Endor and then we shall be free to dwell in our new home!"<BR><BR>Some cheered at his words while others murmured uneasily.<BR><BR>"What happened at Alqualonde?"<BR><BR>Feanor's eyes cut through the crowd to Ecthelion, who stood with his arms folded across his chest. Glorfindel, and others, held their breath as the tension thickened within the tent.<BR><BR>
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Postby Carnimiriel » Tue Apr 09, 2002 1:34 pm

Anarrima stood by her father's side in the large tent that had been erected near the natural harbor where the ships had landed. He had wanted her to stay behind, telling her that this was no matter for a girl.<BR><BR>"I am no longer a girl, but a woman." Anarrima had seen the surprise in her father's face. He was not used to having her challenge him in this manner. "And I see that my Aunt means to take part in this meeting, so why should not I?"<BR><BR>Aegnor had not protested then, and had allowed her to accompany him, but she felt frightfully out of place among her elders, and she shrank back against her father as Feanor entered with his customary swagger, all seven of his sons behind him.<BR><BR>But Fingon was there as well, and Anarrima's heart leapt to see him. Surely he would not have killed the Teleri, and so the rumors were false! But Fingon's noble head was hung with shame, and at his side his young herald looked nervous, as if he felt as out of place there as did she.<BR><BR>She caught his eye and gave him a friendly smile, though she didn't think they had met. He looked startled and quickly turned away, which puzzled her, but she gave it no more thought. Feanor was speaking, and like him or no, he was a powerful orator.<BR><BR>"I only slew those who opposed my destiny, as I have sworn to do." Feanor's voice was proud, and he gazed around the room, as if daring anyone else to oppose him.<BR><BR>Earwen cried out in grief and buried her face against Finarfin's shoulder. Her worst suspicions had been confirmed, and she mourned the Teleri, her people, who had been so cruelly slain.<BR><BR>"See what your terrible oath has done." Finarfin muttered darkly, but said no more as he left the tent then with arm around his wife, but none of his children followed. <BR><BR>Anarrima wanted to follow and comfort her grandmother, but her father's hand on hers restrained her. Would he still follow Feanor even now? Jerking her hand from his, she ran out of the tent, heedless of the eyes upon her. What had become of her, who had always been the dutiful daughter? Twice in one day she had challenged his authority! Though her father had tricked her into making this journey, he was still her father. <BR><BR>She felt as if she could not breathe inside the tent, though; she was suffocating. She needed to see the stars. The sea was now calm, and gulls were crying in the salty breezes, heedless of the band of elves huddled together in tents against the sting of the mists. She looked around for her grandparents, but they must have already gone inside their own tent.<BR><BR>Alone, she climbed upwards among the rocks, her hands thrust deep into the pockets of her cloak. What was to become of them? Though she and her family had not been among the Kinslayers, the guilt weighed as heavily on her mind as if she had committed the crime herself. Empathy was a gift that she had learned from Nienna herself.<BR><BR>"Oh Nienna, Lady of Sorrows, take pity on us." She whispered to the wind, her eyes cast down in order to keep her footing on the jumbled rocks that began to ascend gradually from the coastline. The mist stung her pale cheeks, or was she weeping? Anarrima wasn't sure, and she wasn't even sure what she was doing out here when she should at least comfort her Grandmother if she could not abide hearing Feanor's haughty words.<BR><BR>"Nienna, have pity." She murmured again, remembering all that the Lady had taught her. Surely in her great compassion she would sympathize with the plight of the Noldor, most of whom, she believed, were more inflamed with the desire to see and rule wild new lands than to follow Feanor's folly.<BR><BR>She looked up and instantly drew her breath in sharply as she saw a dark shape looming ahead of her that was not part of the rock, but some powerful presence. Had Nienna answered her?<BR><BR>"My Sister hears your plea, but upon Feanor and his House her pity would be wasted." The dark presence spoke with a deep and powerful voice, a voice that she had heard before.<BR><BR>"My Lord." Anarrima dropped to one knee and bowed her head, for she knew that she was in the presence of Mandos.<BR><BR>All her senses tingled and she feared what he might say to her.<BR><BR>"Return to your kin, for my words are not for you alone. Bid them stop arguing among themselves and listen to the Doom I will pronounce."<BR><BR>"Yes, my Lord." Anarrima answered, not daring to raise her eyes even as she turned and sped back down the rocks.<BR><BR>What would the Valar do to them for their disobedience? Over and over she repeated her prayer for pity, in spite of Mandos' words.<BR><BR>Her light shoes were not meant for running over rocks, and in her haste she ran them to shreds, but she did not even know her feet were bleeding until later. Her heart was filled with a deep and terrible forboding, <BR><BR>She had meant to run to her father first, or perhaps Galadriel, but it was one of Feanor's son's who caught her arm as she rushed into the camp. The meeting had apparently broken up.<BR><BR>"Who is this?" Celegorm said with a sneer.<BR><BR>Anarrima was too breathless to reply, but he shone a lantern upon her face and said, "Ah, it is our noble cousin, running around like a frightened mouse. Get back to your father, girl!"<BR><BR>"But Mandos --" She began foolishly, wishing instantly that she had remained silent and conveyed this message to more worthy ears. "Mandos is here, and bids us listen."<BR><BR>"Mandos, you say?" Celegorm grinned as if he were about to say something in jest, but he turned to follow her gaze, and he too saw the dark figure outlined against the starry sky. "Manwe's bones!"<BR><BR>In his moment of surprise, Anarrima took the opportunity to slip out of his grip and run towards her father's tent, but there was no need. Mandos had begun to speak, and the booming of his voice brought everyone scrambling from their tents.<BR><BR>"Hear, O people of the Noldor, thy Doom pronounced." Mandos proclaimed in a voice that was at once like trumpets and a great, booming drum.<BR><BR>Many that heard it fell on their faces in fear, and all who heard it for long years afterwards could remember and recite the terrible words by heart.<BR><BR>
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Postby asaris » Wed Apr 10, 2002 7:32 am

Curufë, who had been standing silently behind Fëanor, his presence obscured by the mighty spirit of his brother, went out to join the elves who awaited Mandos' doom. As he left the tent, it seemed to him that the eyes of the Vala alighted on him, and became sad. The Vala then began to speak mighty words of doom, some of which made Curufë quail deep in his heart, though he understood them not until much later. Three lines he remembered until the end of days, for they were spoken of him, though then he knew it not:<BR><BR>The last scion of the Dipossessed shall remain<BR>All his works shall be in vain<BR>Until the fall of the shadow of Morgoth.<BR><BR>These lines caused Curufë, later to be called the last Fëanorian, to shudder, as if his spirit knew the truth of these words.
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Postby Celebrimbor32 » Thu Apr 11, 2002 9:59 pm

Even as all indeed seemed lost and hope dwindled for what remained of the fleets of the Teleri amid the storm, the seas began to relent and patches of starlight began to peek through the rain clouds of gray. The hail had ceased and the heavy rainfall had diminished, allowing the ships to reorganize upon the waves and regain their composure. A select few had managed to alight make-shift beacons on deck so that others could detect them amid the darkness. One by one, the ships managed to sail into a nearby bay upon the shores of Aman, though they were still too far to the north of the main hosts of the Noldor. After they were assembled together they immediately set out southwards until they were spotted by the scouts of Fingolfin and brought into the camps. There, they were welcomed with joy and wonder, though not all were pleased to see the return of Fëanor or his sons. Fingon it was, who received the most praise, for it was feared that he had been lost at sea. With him was his esteemed pupil, Alkarion, the bard. Orowë was also there; and Camthalion; and Falastur, the Swift; and many others also. They had survived the wrath of Ossë and had landed ashore safely, though not without much grief and bitter memories, for they were eye-witnesses of the kinslaying at Alqualondë, and indeed, several of them had taken part in the melee themselves, though they knew not the true cause.<BR><BR>But it was Fëanor who now commanded the attention of all those present among the gathering of the hosts of the Noldor. In brief, he began to give an account of what befell at Alqualondë and his own view of how they were assualted by the Teleri. He was lauded as a hero by some, but his brothers, Fingolfin and Finarfin, and the other lords of the Noldor, guessed the truth. They were horrified, and Finarfin rebuked Fëanor for his cruelty and straightway left the tents with his wife, Earwen. <BR><BR>Orowë now became besotted with grief at the harsh memory, and he now began to look upon Fëanor with new eyes, as if a dark veil had been lifted from them. No longer did he behold a noble lord of the Noldor, who was striken with grief over the death of his father and rape of his treasure. He was now quite plainly a madman who would soon lead them all to death and destruction, if they continued to follow his lead. Somehow, the house of Fingolfin would have to take control and wrest the leadership from the clutches of Fëanor and his sons. Orowë's mind meandered as Fëanor gave his twisted account of the tale. He wondered what repercussions would ensue from all of this once the Valar had decided upon a course of action to take. <BR><BR>Just then, several elves dashed into the pavillion with great, but terrible tidings, " He has come! Behold, the shadow of Mandos has come upon us! " There were many gasps and murmurs among the throng of the Noldor, and they emerged from their tents to behold a tall, shadowy figure illuminated against the starlit sky, standing tall and ominous as a mountain. And behold! The figure began to recite the curse and prophecy which spelled out the doom of all the Noldor! <BR><BR>The curse of Mandos was heard by all, and many there quailed and averted their eyes, for they were filled with fear and confusion by the frightful words of the Vala. But Fëanor was not moved, and shouted aloud words of defiance even as the apparition faded away and left them. <BR><BR>Then Fëanor again gathered his seven sons together and reitterated his insistance on going forward with the cause, saying, " We will go on, people of the Noldor! We have sworn to do so, and this oath we shall not break! Be not daunted by the fell words you have heard, for they are filled with desparation and hostility towards the Noldor. Being consumed by jealousy and envy, the Valar have raised the seas and our friends of old against us, but their plots have failed, as they always have! To Middle-earth we shall go and perform deeds of courage that surpass those of even Tulkas and Oromë, and we will hunt Morgoth to all ends......"<BR><BR>At that moment Finarfin, half-brother of Fëanor, emerged from the crowd and confronted Fëanor and interrupted his speech, saying, " Enough, half-brother!! Your words are now empty and fall upon deaf ears! The lies of Morgoth have filled your head and poisoned your tongue! You have committed murder and slain my kin, and for that there is no forgiveness. I shall call you brother no more, and I renounce our kinship! One brother only do I now have. The lies of Morgoth you will, doubtless, unlearn in bitterness. You may indeed come into Middle-earth again, but your hopes will fail you ere the end, though I will not be there to see it, for I shall not go forward and watch you drag my father's people to their untimely doom! "<BR><BR>Then insults were exchanged, and Fëanor's son, Caranthir, drew forth his shining sword and called Finarfin a coward and craven, and would have approached him, but was restrained by his brother, Maglor. Fingolfin and his son Fingon attempted to assuage the bitter feelings that now overwhelmed Finarfin, but to no avail. <BR><BR>Finarfin then announce that he would forsake the march and return to Tirion and seek the pardon of the Valar, taking any that chose to follow him. At this, Galadriel bowed her head in sorrow, for she loved her father dearly and knew now that it would be long indeed, even as it is reckoned among the Eldar, before she would see him again, for she had already decided to continue forth into Middle-earth with her brothers....
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Postby Carnimiriel » Fri Apr 12, 2002 2:46 pm

Anarrima's heart leapt at the news that Finarfin would turn back -- did this mean that her father would do so as well? Were they going home?<BR><BR>But Aegnor and his brother Angrod had at once gone to the tent of Fingon, their friend, to confer with him, and Anarrima could only speculate about what they might be discussing. Her heart sank, for she felt almost certain that she would not see her beloved Tirion again. Her uncle Finrod would surely follow Turgon, and if Turgon went, Fingon was sure to go. If Fingon went...<BR><BR>Anarrima sighed heavily and went to her grandparents' tent. Galadriel was there, standing tall and proud before her parents. Anarrima turned to go, not wishing to intrude, but Galadriel called to her, saying, "Stay, niece. You are the first one born of your generation to the House of Finarfin."<BR><BR>Turning her grey eyes back to her parents, Galadriel pushed Anarrima one step ahead of her. "Look upon your granddaughter, Father and Mother, for she is the only one you shall ever see, if you turn back from this journey. I pray that you rethink your rash words."<BR><BR>"Will you rethink yours, Artanis?" Finarfin answered, his voice calm, though his eyes betrayed his sorrow. "Are you so eager to follow Feanor's madness, even though he has killed our kin?"<BR><BR>"Surely you will come back with us, dearest daughter. You of all our children..." Earwen stood and walked towards her daughter, both hands outstretched. Her eyes were rimmed with tears.<BR><BR>"I follow no one but myself." Galadriel declared, meeting her father's gaze unflinchingly. Then to her mother, with a trace of challenge in her voice, she said, "Would you have me stay and play the dutiful daughter while all of my brothers seek realms of their own to rule? Nay, there is nothing I desire in Valinor."<BR><BR>"Namarie." Galadriel kissed her mother's cheek and then went to her father, but he turned from her in despair and anger.<BR><BR>Without another word, Galadriel left the tent, taking Anarrima by the hand before she could protest or say her own farewells, and ignoring the sobs of Earwen.<BR><BR>"How could you say that to your parents?" Anarrima finally asked as they went back to their tent. Tears were streaming down her face, to her embarrassment. <BR><BR>But Galadriel did not answer. Anarrima's aunt lay down upon her own cot and wept bitterly. That is when Anarrima realized how much Galadriel did love her parents, and how much it grieved her to be parted from them, in spite of her harsh words.<BR><BR><i>So she has feelings after all,</i> Anarrima thought.<BR><BR>Anarrima sat down upon the cot and stroked Galadriel's golden hair soothingly, though her own heart was in turmoil. For once, she thought she understood how Galadriel felt.<BR><BR>Galadriel smiled through her tears and sat up to embrace Anarrima.<BR><BR>"Never let the men see you weep." She advised, even as she wiped the tears from her own eyes. "They think often enough that we womenfolk are weak, and if we are to take our rightful places among them, we must be seen as strong."<BR><BR>Anarrmia nodded, but she thought to herself, <i>I am not like you. I cannot project even the illusion of strength. I am not made for a journey such as this, but if this is the path I am given to trod, I will tread it the best I can.</i><BR><BR>What Anarrima did not realize until much later is that in that moment, she was beginning to display the quiet strength that would help her survive the terrible ordeal that was to come. Wiping the tears from her face and arranging her pale golden hair, she left her tent and went in search of her father. He was still inside Fingon's tent, but she noticed Orowe sitting outside the tent restringing his bow, whom she knew from her father's close friendship with Fingon's House.<BR><BR>"You will go on, will you not?" She asked him quietly.<BR><BR>"Aye, unless Fingon decides to turn back, which is unlikely." Orowe nodded. "Your father plans to go on, I think?"<BR><BR>"I fear so." Anarrima looked at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. "I think that even my uncle Orodreth will go."<BR><BR>Orodreth of all Finarfin's children was most like him in spirit, but he was close to his brother Finrod and to Galadriel and Anarrima suspected he would continue on with them.<BR><BR>"And you, Lady? What will you do?" Orowe asked her.<BR><BR>Anarrima's eyes did meet his then, briefly, with surprise. He asked as if she had a choice in the matter. It suddenly occurred to her that she could leave with Finarfin and Earwen, and return home to her mother and to her studies! Galadriel would not obey her own father, so why should Anarrima obey hers?<BR><BR><i>But he needs you.</i><BR><BR>Anarrima sighed and hung her head. Somehow, she knew this was not to be. Orowe was still looking at her expectantly.<BR><BR>"I...will go where my Father goes." She said with a sad smile.<BR><BR><BR>
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Postby sraedi » Fri Apr 12, 2002 4:06 pm

Clad entirely in white as she always does, Aredhel sat next to her brother and finished her meal while Glorfindel told of what was seen at the shores to Fingolfin, her eyes downcast and her ever loud voice now silent, just as it remained during the ride back to the tents. When the time came, she stepped out the tent along with the other to face the people of her father, Fingolfin and Finarfin, younger and wiser sons of Finwë, speak to the rising anxiety of the crowd. Where she would have been hasty to speak, she now kept her tongue and simply watched. The moment she had seen the wreckage on the shores, was the first time she had felt her hope flicker under the sea winds and its flame glowed dimly against her damp mood and demeanor still, until she heard the voice of Fëanor, lifted her eyes and caught sight of her brother.<BR><BR>As Finrod’s gaze caught hers, she could not help but smile before both turned to hear the words exchanged between the lords of the Noldor.<BR><BR>Aredhel stood still, with her countenance settled, even amid the unease and heated bickering, since her heart had been set at ease and her thoughts were now back upon the promise of Beleriand. And she was content to listen to Fëanor speak, until her eyes drifted towards his sons, studying the faces of each of them at a time: Maedhros the tall, Maglor the gentle, Celegorm the fair and her own hunting companion, Caranthir, Curufin and the twins, Amrod and Amras. Among them, she dwelt longest on Maedhros for he now seemed to her as if someone she had never seen before. Despite the dirt and wounds, he was proud and more alive than ever, as if a star shone upon his brow, but Aredhel could feel an ashen veil upon his head, as if he stood unbent, her intrepid cousin, yet not without a burden. The slaying was indeed true, which hung from Maedhros’ heart heavily, but it was something else that she saw, something which not even Maedhros knew.<BR><BR>And it was then that the terrible words came down and shook the air around her. Námo it was, who stood before them, colossal and absolute as his Doom, conquering all except Fëanor. She had instinctively reached for the hand of her father and pulled herself close to him. <BR><BR>And it was long after the last word was spoken that she could find her own thoughts within her still trembling mind and brought upon her knees by the weight of the Prophecy, she saw anger burning within herself. For while Mandos spoke, the White Lady of the Noldor felt fear for the first time and amidst her pride, fear quickly cloaked itself in a scarlet wrath. She wanted now, above all and in defiance of the Valar, to find herself free to ride and dwell upon Beleriand, mistress of her own will and her own doom.
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Postby Celebrimbor32 » Mon Apr 15, 2002 10:31 pm

Time seemed to pass slowly, following the heated quarrel between Fëanor and his half-brother, Finarfin. Though insults and accusations were hurled at one another from both houses of the Noldor, violence was averted as both parties departed the scene and went to opposite ends of the encampment to dwell for the time being. The sudden announcement by Finarfin, that he would heed the words of Mandos and forsake the journey and return to Tirion, was an unforseen setback to the hosts of the Noldor. Suddenly, a sizable host would now be leaving the expedition for good. Fingolfin still had the greater number followers among the hosts, but their size was now diminished, for Finarfin had won the hearts of many of the Noldor long ago through his patience and wisdom, and they would not be parted from him. Yet, his children were not with him. They would see the journey through to it's completion, for better or for worse, though not all were as eager to depart as others. They would continue onwards under the leadership of Fingolfin until they reached Middle-earth.<BR><BR>Therefore, many of the Noldor began to convene in groups throughout the camps, for they knew not when, if ever, they would look upon their friends again. Their fates were now apart, and their hearts were heavy at their parting. <BR><BR>Now Anarrima, Aegnor's young daughter, had gone in search of her father, who was presently inside Fingon's tent receiving farewell gifts from those would return to Tirion with Finarfin. She had declared her intentions of going onward with the journey to the young Orowë, a huntsman of Fingon's house. Noticing a sizable crowd inside the entranceway, she forced her way inside through the congested area until she came to her father. <BR><BR>Orowë, however, remained outside the tent. The memory of the battle at Alqualondë still haunted him, and he could not bring himself to look into the eyes of those who were akin to the slain among Olwë's folk. He remained outside the tent and busied himself with the re-stringing of his bow. <BR><BR>At length, the sound of music could be heard, coming from a distance not far away. Orowë left the tent and walked down to a wooded vale that was lit by torches. Once there, he beheld two Noldorin minstrels plucking the strings of harps. He recognized one of them as Inglor, a bard of Finarfin's house. They accompanied a maiden who stood before them, and she sang a lament of the downfall of the two trees, Laurelin and Telperion, along with a tombeau Inglor had composed for those who were slain in the battle at Alqualondë. <BR><BR>The words of the lament were new to Orowë, and he listened attentively, for they hit close to home for him. He found himself unable to resist their mystical sadness, and tears welled up in his eyes. <BR><BR>Suddenly, he noticed an elf-maiden standing near him in the flickering light of the torches, listening to the music. Softly, she spoke, saying, " My life, thus far, has been so filled with profound happiness and contentment that I may only marvel as to how it has been replaced by turmoil and trepidation....Alas! We have only turned our backs on our homes but a little while ago and already it seems our course has gone astray. The lament of Inglor conjures up the sorrows of that unfortunate event all too truly it seems, though I was not there..." The elf-maiden sighed softly to herself as she stood there.<BR><BR>Orowë slowly turned his head and beheld a fair maiden clad in a silvery blue cloak that partially concealed a gown, woven of a fine, silver fabric, trimmed with scarlett. Her hair was of auburn and her eyes a deep grey. Her cloak was clasped at the neck by a broach that resembled the badge of Fingolfin's house. He gazed at her in silence for a moment before replying hesitantly, "...Be glad that you were not there, my lady, for the scene was evil. Mariners that should have dwelt forever in peace upon the shores of Tol Eressëa under the protection of Ulmo, lost their lives unrighteuosly at the hands of those who were bewitched by the lies of Melkor. "<BR><BR>She now turned and looked Orowë in the eye, and she saw that he was burdened by the grief of the memory of the Kinslaying. Realizing now that he, himself, had been present at the battle, she took pity on him and she comforted him. Taking his hand in hers she said, " I read the horror of what happened at the havens in your eyes, and I see in them no malice of forethought. Do not burden your conscience with with deeds done by others that you followed along the way, for you have no control over them...I see that you bear the tokens of Fingon's house. None here rightly believe that Fingolfin's son would knowingly lead his hosts alongside Fëanor in a plot to usurp the fleets of the Teleri from them. You speak now of falling prey to the lies of Melkor, but in that I believe you to be innocent. Fëanor and his sons are the true victims, not you or I. " <BR><BR>" What is your name, lady? " asked Orowë, " for I do not recall seeing you before. "<BR><BR>" I am Linuilë, daughter of Celenor, sister of Celedhros. We have followed Fingolfin's banner now for a long time. "<BR><BR>" I thank you, Linuilë, for your kind words. I am Orowë, vassal of Fingon. Of Celedhros I have indeed heard the name, though I have never met him. Perhaps I will have the chance ere...." <BR><BR>Orowë's words were interupted by a horn-call from the tents. " Come, Orowë, " said Linuilë, " We must go, for that is the signal that Finarfin and his folk are departing soon. I would like to see them once more ere we are sundered from them, perhaps forever. "
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Postby asaris » Tue Apr 16, 2002 10:26 am

"Finarfin's folk are leaving," Curufë told his brother, as the horns blew in the distance. "Good riddance!" Fëanor responded bitterly. "We have no need of elves who lack the heart or the spirit to seek their own freedom. Let them go back to slavery! We are better off without them." <BR><BR>Curufë sadly shook his head, but said nothing. He walked outside the tent, and Celegorm followed him. "You seem troubled, my friend," said the nephew to the uncle. "Did you not hear the words of Mandos? 'Tears unnumbered ye shall shed...' I fear not for myself, but for those weaker than us among us, and I fear Fëanor's lack of compassion will do us much harm." Celegorm put his hand on Curufë's shoulder. <BR><BR>"You were always the compassionate one. But we must show strength, and not allow the nay-saying of the Valar to deter us. They certainly seek only to bring us back to themselves, and stop us from finding freedom, from reclaiming the Silmarils. Think not too much on the fate of the weak. It will only weaken your resolve as well." He chuckled a little, and added, "I would not want my best hunting partner too weepy! Come, let us go back inside." Curufë nodded, and the two elves walked back in the tent.
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Postby Carnimiriel » Tue Apr 16, 2002 1:00 pm

Anarrima sadly watched Finarfin's host depart until they were out of her sight. First, she was brought away from her mother and her kin of the Vanyar, and now her grandparents and many she had known for all of her short life were going back to Tirion, the beloved city that would for her now live only in memory. Heedless of Galadriel's advice, she made no effort to conceal her tears of sorrow. Did not Nienna weep for Laurelin and Telperion? <BR><BR>Earwen had come to see her shortly before they left, and her Grandmother's lovely face was stained with tears.<BR><BR>"Take this, dearest Granddaughter, but do not let your father know." Earwen had pressed a small, wooden chest into Anarrima's trembling hands. "My husband fashioned this, and I would have something of Valinor go with you into Endor."<BR><BR>Anarrima opened the chest to see a deep red jewel, cut and polished so that it glittered, though it had not been set in a piece of jewelry.<BR><BR>"I...thank you. What would you have me do with it?"<BR><BR>"Keep it safe, do not speak of it, and perhaps someday you will give it to a son or daughter of your own. I dare not give it to one of my own children, for I fear that they will be jealous of the one upon whom I bestow such a gift. We have suffered enough over Feanor's jewels, and you may be the only grandchild I ever see."<BR><BR>Earwen had hurriedly departed then, because Finarfin called her name from outside the tent. Did he not know that his wife was giving away this possession? Anarrima could not guess what the value of this jewel might be, but the thought that it might cause arguing among her uncles and aunt alarmed her. She vowed to herself that she would never speak of it, not even to her father. Why had her grandmother given her this heavy responsibility? She wrapped the chest in cloth and tucked it away deep within her pack, and her desire to not let this gift cause grief to anyone else was strong enough that in truth, she nearly did forget about it.<BR><BR>Aegnor was inside his tent with his brother Angrod, and only Orodreth and Anarrima stayed outside to watch until the last lanterns of Finarfin's host disappeared from view. He smiled sadly at her and patted her shoulder before he also departed.<BR><BR>There was an air of drear about the camp that morning, and the chill air caused most of the elves to break their fast inside the tents, but still Anarrima stood staring towards the southwest, towards the city that was the only home she had ever known. Stretching her arms into the breeze, she sang her own lament for Tirion, the white city with its banners flying boldly in the wind, its artisans and musicians, its streets paved with the finest stone. Though she sang only for herself, her song gave comfort to many in the tents clustered behind her.<BR><BR>One who heard her song came in search of her, for he had another matter he wished to discuss, and her voice had reminded him. Anarrima didn't realize Glorfindel had been standing nearby listening until she finished the song and at last turned away from the southwest.<BR><BR>"I am sorry M'Lord, I didn't see you. Would you like me to let my father know you are here?" She asked politely as soon as she noticed him.<BR><BR>Turgon's brother-in-law was very close in Fingolfin's counsel, and though Anarrima knew him, the two of them had not spoken together much. She was only recently come into her womanhood and was accustomed to being treated like a child, so it did not even occur to her that perhaps Glorfindel wished to speak with her and not her father.<BR><BR>"I wish to speak with you, rather than your father, Lady, if you will permit me."<BR><BR>"Certainly." Anarrima turned to face him, realizing with some embarrassment that her eyes were probably still quite red from weeping.<BR><BR>"Do I hear correctly that you saw Mandos before anyone else? And that he spoke to you?"<BR><BR>Anarrima nodded, and proceeded to tell him everything that had happened. His eyes seemed eager to hear what she said, but he looked mildly disappointed that Mandos had no more profound words than those about Nienna's pity being wasted on the House of Feanor.<BR><BR>"And your pity as well, Anarrima." Glorfindel said sadly. "You have a soft heart, do you not? But reserve your pity for those who truly deserve it. There are many of Fingon's followers whose guilt from the Kinslaying weighs heavily upon them. All of us have been hurt by this sundering of kin from kin, and by Morgoth's terrible deeds. Your songs and your pity may comfort many before our Doom is fully wrought."<BR><BR>Anarrima simply nodded, not really sure what he meant, but Glorfindel gave her hand a companionable squeeze and nodded his farewell, striding off into the dim light of stars before she even had a chance to form a question in her mind. It was rumored that Glorfindel had the gift of prophecy. Had he seen something regarding her?<BR><BR>Shaking her head, she retreated inside the large tent where most of her House were already breakfasting.<BR><BR>"I saw you speaking with Glorfindel. What did he want to talk to you about?" Aegnor asked around a mouthful of lembas, his eyes betraying his curiosity, though his tone was casual.<BR><BR>"Oh, he just thanked me for my song." Anarrima wasn't being dishonest on purpose, but she wasn't sure what to make of the conversation.<BR><BR>She had been a student of Nienna. Apparently Nienna still heard her prayers, though she was forbidden from intervening. If Glorfindel was right, perhaps it was her duty to give as much comfort as she could to those who suffered during this journey. How foolish of her to forget her training and spend so much of her energy mourning her own personal grief...<BR><BR>"Your song was quite lovely, and I thank you as well." Aegnor smiled fondly at her, but there was something somewhat strained in his gaze that seemed to have nothing to do with her song.<BR><BR>After breakfast, though, he called her into his tent to speak with her alone, and suddenly she understood.<BR><BR>"You are maturing into a lovely young woman, and as a daughter of a noble House you may begin to...attract attention."<BR><BR>Aegnor cleared his throat slightly and looked down at his hands, then back up to meet her gaze.<BR><BR>"I want to make it very clear to you I do not wish to hear of your name linked romantically with that of an Elf of any House, no matter how noble. If someone wishes to pay court to you, he must discuss the matter with me first. As your Mother is not here to advise you," Aegnor's face clouded with pain briefly at the remembrance of his wife, "I trust that Galadriel will know how to help you dissuade any potential suitors."<BR><BR>"Certainly, Father." Anarrima couldn't help but smile bemusedly, though.<BR><BR>She knew that this would not be difficult, as she was sure that her own heart would be very slow to awaken to love. In fact, the very idea of falling in love with one particular person was rather mystifying to her. There was no reason she should think of love and marriage -- after all, her Aunt Galadriel was still a maiden as was her father's first cousin, Aredhel. Love was the last thing on Anarrima's mind, and she knew that Glorfindel had no such intentions towards her, whatever her father might think.<BR><BR>No, Anarrima would not fall in love. She had a higher duty now, and Glorfindel's words had reminded her. But how could she be of service? She was still contemplating this later as she found her feet carrying her towards Fingon's tents. Perhaps Glorfindel was right that those who had slain the Teleri unwittingly were suffering most of all.<BR>
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Postby Celebrimbor32 » Sat Apr 20, 2002 7:10 pm

At last, the host of Finarfin had departed and set out upon their return journey to Tirion, where they would seek pardon from Manwë for their behavior and insolence toward the Valar. The parting of the two brothers, Fingolfin and Finarfin, was heavy indeed, and the many there who witnessed it felt the sorrow and anguish that lay between them. In their hearts, they knew that this would be their final parting. Not until the end of days would they meet again, and then perhaps only in the halls of Mandos.<BR><BR>Then, the children of Finarfin, and the few of their folk that still remained with them, came to Fingolfin and pledged their support for him and their steadfast resolve to see the journey through to it's appointed end, although some were more eager than others. Few of them would now be willing to follow the leadership of Fëanor, and many among them became unsettled at this thought, as they felt that yet another confrontation with Fëanor was imminent. Fëanor was as proud and haughty as any that had yet come before him, and little would it please him to see Fingolfin usurp the leadership of the Noldor upon a quest that purposed to pursue Melkor, their common enemy, into the wilds of Beleriand, for it was he who had first named him, <i>Morgoth</i>, Black Foe of the World.<BR><BR>Now the remaining hosts made ready to be gone. Throughout the camps, the tents were struck and the horses loaded up with goods for their long and laborious travel up the coastline. Of all the Noldor, the folk of Finarfin's house had brought with them the most treasures and keep-sakes along the road, for they were now the only memories of fair Tirion they had remaining to them, and they refused to part with them. <BR><BR>As preparations were being made, many among the chief of the Noldor began to gather together down by the shore, where the ships of the Teleri were docked. Both Fëanor and Fingolfin were there, and with them were their sons and daughters, and many other prominent figures also. They began to assess the situation and how to best organize their method of travel, as it was plain that the remaining ships, that were not destroyed by the storm, were not large enough to transport the entire host of the Noldor along their way. <BR><BR>Leaving the grassy dunes behind them, Celedhros and Glorfindel strode over to the waters edge and beheld one of the great Telerin ships. For many of the Noldor it was the first time they had beheld the vessels and, now that they had seen them with their own eyes, they were fully able to appreciate their beauty and workmanship. <BR><BR>" Alas, that I feel such sorrow at beholding these remarkable ships, kinsman, " said Glorfindel to Celedhros over the noise of the sea gulls. " They should be resting peacefully in the havens of Alqualondë. "<BR><BR>" I know it, " replied Celedhros, while gazing at the tall masts of the ship, " yet, we should not dwell upon the past, for what is done is done. We cannot change that fact. To the future we must now look, and with eyes wide open! The past we will leave behind us, for these ships are our one hope, now. They will bear us across the sea into Middle-earth. Perhaps one day, after we have established ourselves in new realms, we will return the ships to the Teleri with thanks, and renew our friendships of old, for you and I are guiltless in their theft "<BR><BR>Then Glorfindel, who was foresighted, said, " Nay, Celedhros. It is not that simple. The moment we set foot upon these ships for any cause, other than returning them to their rightful owners, we become guilty also, though perhaps not to the degree of Fëanor and his sons. Once we set out, I deem that these fair vessels will never again be seen in the havens of Alqualondë, where they belong. " <BR><BR>It happened that Galadriel and her brother Angrod drew near them now and overheard the words of Glorfindel. " You speak truly, Glorfindel, " said Angrod coming up to them, " for even if these ships bear us all across the wide sea, Fëanor would never consider returning them to the Teleri, for seldom does a thief return that which he has seized in the dark. "<BR><BR>" Nevertheless, our primary objective is to reach the shores of Middle-earth, and these ships must now be used for that purpose, " replied Celedhros, turning towards Angrod, " Once that objective is achieved, we shall see what happens. Our mutual anger with Fëanor must be put aside for now. After he sets foot upon Middle-earth and begins his pursuit of Melkor, I doubt that he will give much thought to the ships of the Teleri. "<BR><BR>" Yet, an army of a thousand may not sail a ship equipped for only a hundred, " added Galadriel, " for have you not seen that the ships remaining to us are now too few to bear all the Noldor across the sea? Many will have to remain behind and await their turn to be ferried across. "<BR><BR>" My sister is right, " said Angrod, " We shall have to take it in turn ere we all stand upon the western shores of Middle-earth together. "<BR><BR>" Whatever the case, Fëanor and his followers must be evenly divided among ours and Fingolfin's hosts before we board the boats and depart, " added Glorfindel. <BR><BR>" Therefore, be patient, Celedhros, " said Galadriel, " we are all eager to depart, but first the proper precautions must be observed. "<BR><BR>Celedhros said no more, and looked despondantly along the shoreline, where the remaining ships were tied. Back and forth they swayed, as the white-capped waves tumbled into the rocky shore. A considerable distance away, Fëanor, along with his advisors, could be seen loading various goods into one of the vessels. As he directed the activity with an authoritative voice, Celedhros thought that he could see Fëanor observing him and his three companions with suspicion as they talked together....
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