Eternal

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own characters; everything belongs to Tolkien the genius.

Chapter Three: Tarsa mí Erumar

After a long discussion filled with many assurances, Glorfindel was successful in convincing Elenwë to allow Idril to go on the journey to the Two Trees of Valinor. Especially because it turned out every Eldar was invited to come. Elrilya's family, like every Noldor in Tirion, had already been planning on departing for the festivities and were glad to hear that the noble family of their daughter’s friend would be coming as well. Elenwe was also so kind as to allow Glorfindel to take Idril and Elrilya to leave earlier than many planned to leave so that they could visit the vast gardens.
Upon the arrival of the main host of the Eldar at Valmar, it was discovered that the long banished elf lord Fëanor, had decided to make an appearance since Manwë had invited him. It was time for Idril’s grandfather, Fingolfin, to reconcile with Fëanor over the drawing of Fëanor's sword on him several years before. In front of the entire company of Noldor, Vanyar, Valar, and Maia they took an oath to each other as true, full brothers in heart. At the moment of this oath, the silver and gold light of the trees mingled and shone brightly. The Eldar present broke out into song, hailing the nobles.
Suddenly, a shadow passed over the Blessed Realm and the light of the trees darkened as it was sucked away by an unseen force. The singing ended and silence overtook the Eldar seated at the feast. All became dark as the light disappeared from sight and the mountain Taniquetil was an island of firelight amidst the sea of darkness. The cries of the Teleri on the far away shores rose up in the quiet air and it was chilling to the bone to hear. Then the Valar observed the shadow escaping quickly to the north out of Aman and they knew that Melkor had taken the life and light of their blessed trees.
Days later, tidings arrived that the shadow had passed the halls of Formenos where Finwë, the father of Fëanor, Fingolfin, and Finarfin, dwelt as a banished king of the Noldor. There he had been slain and Melkor disappeared with the precious jewels, the Silmarils. These precious gems that Fëanor had crafted contained the lasting light of the trees within their depths. It was then that Fëanor damned Melkor for his evil deeds and named him Morgoth. Great mourning was taken at this time and many were frightened of the days to come and in this state the Noldor and Vanyar returned to Tirion in the darkened twilight.
* * * *
Standing on one of the high walls of Tirion, Glorfindel looked out from the ramparts toward where the mountain passes once were filled with light but were now dark with a fog of darkness. Suddenly, he felt a soft touch on his arm and turned to see Elrilya at his side. In the firelight of the torches upon the nearby walls, her eyes were bleak and sad but she looked upon him imploringly. He knew why she felt as such.
Ever since Melkor and Ungoliant, the spider witch, had defiled the Blessed Realm and destroyed the Two Trees, he had become extremely reserved and unresponsive. Everyone on the journey back to Tirion had noticed how he was being unlike himself and many of his kin were wondering about his well-being. The recent events had stricken him deeply within his soul and he could not help but feel a sense of deep loss as he walked alone on his way back and upon his return to Tirion.
“Are you feeling well?” she asked.
He attempted to bring a smile to his lips but they only quaked at the effort. Despite wanting to feel alone for the time being, he could not push away the caring face and worried tone she had in her voice. Glorfindel knew that she sought to help him in anyway she could, even if they were small endeavors. His close friend Turgon had already visited him that same night but could not come up with much to say in order to salve the pain within him because of his own grief that lay in his heart. Yet, Glorfindel felt touched by this young elf-maiden whom he had barely known and who had a seemingly uncanny ability to reach out to others because of an inner perceptiveness or empathic ability stronger than any he had come across.
“I am well,” he conceded, though he could tell that it did not quell her searching eyes as he felt her gaze upon him.
However, Elrilya seemed to realize that there were no words that could be spoken to him for the time being and so she remained silent. She then turned her gaze to follow his own out across the valley to where darkness crept upon the lighted city. The fog seemed to want to strangle the struggling light of Mindon high above them.
They stood for a long time together upon the wall in silent repartee while feeling comfort in the other’s presence. Glorfindel breathed in deeply and he caught the scent of her hair from beside him. He closed his eyes, letting himself reminisce in the fragrances of a sweet mixture of holly and heather. It reminded him of a time of greater innocence and comfort among the Eldar, one they may not see for a long time, if at all.
“Glorfindel?”
He opened his eyes and turned his head to look into her blue eyes, “Yes?”
“Do not worry,” Elrilya said reassuringly. “If we remain strong and steadfast in our beliefs and memories, a better day will come.”
Her words surprised him for a moment but he did not let it show. He did not respond but he realized she somehow understood that he had accepted what she had said. He did not know it; though, Elrilya had meant it own for her own sanity. To see one of the greatest and strongest in heart of the Eldar she had met in her short life lose hope, then all the Eldar were lost. And yet through her, Glorfindel felt that one of the younger generations of Eldar still could bring the Eldar to that new hope and renewed beginning.
"We are in uncertain times, indeed," he said with a touch of sorrow. "I knew a horrible event would befall us by Melkor’s hand but I wish it had not been in this way."
"None of us did," she answered. "I fear though this might be only the beginning of many heartaches but I feel there will be some goodness that comes out of it all."
"Maybe," Glorfindel said as he hung his head low. "May the Valar help us."
"I pray and hope that they will watch over us carefully through these times," Elrilya nodded.
Glorfindel nodded a moment in response then looked to her huddled close to him in the unsettling darkness.
“Come, it is time you returned home,” he said as he took her arm in the crook of his own. “I will walk you home tonight. It is the least I could do for your kind company.”
The two walked slowly once more in silence as he took her home. Though she mostly led the way to her home since he did not know the way, Glorfindel was glad they went at the slow gait they took. He suddenly did not wish to be alone anymore and he felt the need to find a comfort in any way necessary. The longer she stayed on his arm, the more he felt anchored in the reality that those like Elrilya and Idril could support the Eldar in their quest to survive through harshness such as this. When he had been embittered before at lesser things, he had sought the comfort of another in his bed but the closeness of Elrilya was all he needed and desired for bedroom activities were the furthest from his mind.
Once they reached her destination, Glorfindel released her arm and gave a slight bow of his head.
“Thank you, Elrilya,” he said as she nodded her thanks to him and slipped inside her abode.
He turned to walk away but was caught by another noise of her return.
“Glorfindel!” she called to him quietly.
He came back to her, wondering what might be on her mind.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” Elrilya said.
“For what?” he questioned.
“Taking me to the gardens and the Two Trees before…” her voice trailed off as she tried to finish.
Glorfindel took her hand and held it between his two palms.
“It was my pleasure, vinya quen,” he said quietly.
Though, he did not smile, she could see his eyes twinkle from a moment of remembered bliss before he led her back to her doorway.
After she was inside, he then turned and took his time to unhurriedly make his way back to the main halls of the noble families.
* * *
The time after returning from Valmar was dark and dreary for the Eldar and time seemed to stand still in the gloom that surrounded the great city of Tirion. Much similar was the mood of many Eldar, including that of Glorfindel and Turgon as they contemplated the actions that the Valar might take in revenge for the destruction of the Two Trees. Many rumors had spread about the city concerning the future and what may or may not happen. The city was becoming restless and many knew something large and unnerving was on the eve of happening.
The very night that the first steps toward these events occurred, Idril and Elrilya were in the middle of needlework in one of the parlors of the many halls of Tirion when Aredhel suddenly burst into the room.
“Come quick to the main courtyard,” she urged the two of them. “Fëanor has returned and is calling to the entire city to hear what he has to say.”
Placing their projects upon the tables, the two elf maidens hurried after Aredhel to one of the higher walls of the main hall where they could have a good view of what was happening. As they came outside, the air was abuzz with conversations as a fast gathering crowd of mostly Noldor elves. Torchlight blazed from several handheld sticks and wall mounts, setting the courtyard ablaze with bright, strong light. Fëanor stood high amidst the crowd on the raised wall that surrounded the White Tree. The three maidens found an open spot along the wall that overlooked the scene among many others of the noble household. Though, Glorfindel, Turgon, and the brothers of the three princes were nowhere to be seen in the sea of mostly sable haired heads dotted with a few golden tresses.
“What is it do you think he wants?” Idril asked her aunt.
“I do not know,” Aredhel conceded. “It is strange he returns here now when his banishment has not yet been relinquished.”
“My fellow Noldor! Vanyar and Teleri friends! Listen to my words!” Fëanor called out suddenly from below. “A great evil has befallen us, as you all well know. Our hearts are heavy with grief because something dear to our hearts and souls was stolen from us! I know how all of you suffer since I feel the loss inside me too. That a part of us is missing.”
Fëanor then went on talking about the death of the Two Trees, the theft of the Silmarils, and the slaying of Finwë. He spoke harshly with anger in his voice rising up above the crowd.
Elrilya crept closer to Idril as she felt a shiver run through her spine while she watched Idril’s great-uncle speak. She could sense that his tone hid something he would bring out at the right moment. She did not know what it could be but as she glanced at Idril, she could see her friend was also in deep thought concerning the speech. The other Eldar about them appeared to be entranced by his words, nodding in a hypnotic fashion. Mostly it was the Noldor who were being drawn in, Elrilya noted, and most of the Vanyar present seemed nervous and anxious as Fëanor continued on.
“I call upon all of you,” he said. “We must come together and unite against this evil might. The wicked deeds of Morgoth have stirred and awakened things within us that have long slumbered. We must strike back! And take back what is ours!”
Many Noldor raised their fists and shouted in agreement with Fëanor within and all around the courtyard. It only seemed to heave Fëanor’s courage and ego ever higher.
“While the Valar sit silently and do nothing, we wander like frightened children waiting for their word,” he went on, then he let out a roar of rage that he had pent up. “We are stronger than that! Are we not powerful enough to bring down Morgoth and make him pay for his transgressions against us? I say we are! Who among us can disagree? And call us weak to our faces? My people! We can destroy Morgoth and his vile servants. In the place of our beloved king, my father, I shall lead you as your new king!”
Now a strong majority of Noldor shouted and argued in fervor around Fëanor. Many disliked his declaration to call himself the new king of the Noldor. Others supported his claim while the rest remained silent with the Vanyar. Fëanor raised his hands high to calm them to a quiet murmur.
“‘Why, O people of the Noldor,’ he cried, ‘why should we longer serve the jealous Valar, who cannot keep us nor even their own realm secure from their Enemy? And though he be now their foe, are not they and he of one kin? Vengeance calls me hence, but even were it otherwise I would not dwell longer in the same land with the kin of my father’s slayer and of the thief of my treasure. Yet I am not the only valiant in this valiant people. And have ye not all lost your King? And what else have ye not lost, cooped here in a narrow land between the mountains and the sea?
‘Hence once was light, that the Valar begrudged to Middle-Earth, but now dark levels all. Shall we mourn here deedless for ever, a shadow-folk, mist-haunting, dropping vain tears in the thankless sea? Or shall we return to our home? In Cuiviénen sweet ran the waters under unclouded stars, and wide lands lay about, where a free people might walk. There they lie still and await us who in our folly forsook them. Come away! Let the cowards keep this city!’**
“They mean to belittle us and hold us back from the glory we are capable of!” Fëanor cried out heatedly. “They wish to let their true beloved creations rule the Hither Lands!”
At this pronouncement, there was a great muttering that began spreading through the crowd of Eldar.
“What does he mean by ‘true beloved creations’?” Elrilya asked Idril.
The golden-haired maiden seemed as confused as she was and shook her head in confusion. They both looked to Aredhel who had remained awfully quiet the past half hour and who now appeared to have become anxious from the most recent words of Fëanor.
“Who is he speaking of?” Idril questioned her aunt.
Aredhel’s blue eyes flickered to their faces with some apprehension.
“He is speaking of the Aftercomers,” she said. “A people who appeared in the Hither Lands after the Great Journey. I am not surprised you do not know of them, not many do. They are short-lived creatures but have spread much through the lands in their time.”
At this point, Fëanor garnered the attention of his crowd once more. He called upon them all to join him in a journey. A journey back to the Hither Lands he planned to take with a great force to take back the Silmarils from Morgoth. He said to travel light but to bring their weapons so that they may fight and outlast the greatest of the Valar. Then they would rule Arda as the mightiest race.
“My people, by the name of Ilúvatar, I swear before you this day that I shall not let the Silmarils lay in the possession of one not worthy and full of such evil. I call upon Manwë and Varda, and the hallowed mountain of Taniquetil as witnesses to my oath! I will continue until the end of time to avenge my father and retrieve the Silmarils, or be it I come to the Everlasting Dark if I do not!”
At these words leapt Fëanor’s sons to his side upon the wall above the crowd. They cried that they too would take the same oath as their father and would never rest until the Silmarils were returned to their family.
“These are terrible words to be spoken,” Aredhel said as all eight sons took their turn to speak the oath. Her voice quivered as she spoke. “No one should speak such a promise.”
Elrilya and Idril solemnly nodded in response to Aredhel’s words then turned their attention back to the courtyard when they heard a new voice. There stood Fingolfin, Turgon, and Finrod below Fëanor and his sons.
“Fëanor, your declarations are blasphemous!” Fingolfin cried. “Surely the Valar will not forgive you or any of us if you go through with this madness!”
“Why do you not stand by me, brother?” Fëanor cried, his eyes flashing angrily. “Why do you not want to join me in avenging our father together?”
“This is a dangerous task you call upon all of us for!” Turgon responded. “It would not be as easy as you say.”
“You sound like you have lost your mind,” Finrod spoke up against his uncle. “This is not the way to undo what has been done upon us all.”
“And what would you know of our father’s intentions?” cried Amras, one of Fëanor’s sons. “You cared not for our grandsire, cousins! Nor did you, uncle! You attempted to turn our grandsire against our father years ago! A fool’s errand and a coward too!”
Angry cries broke out as Finrod, Turgon and Fingolfin rushed forth at the cruel words. The crowd grew loud with shouts as those who were silent finally spoke up. Two of Fëanor’s sons, Curufin and Caranthir, drew their swords on Fingolfin, Finrod, and Turgon as the arguing escalated.
“Atar! No!”
The shrill cry of Idril’s screams from above the courtyard cut through the air as panic nearly seized the Eldar present. If not for the sudden appearance of a moderator, blood would have been shed upon the white stones surrounding the White Tree.
“Halt! Stop this turmoil now!” cried Glorfindel as he threw himself in front of Fingolfin and Turgon so that Curufin and Caranthir could not reach them. “The offenses between Fingolfin and Fëanor have been resolved. There is no reason to bring it forth again! Do not shed blood here or pull your weapons upon your kin!”
Agreeing with Glorfindel’s words, Curufin and Caranthir placed their swords back in their sheaths. When all had calmed and the mob stilled, Glorfindel stepped aside so that they could continue to debate the issue but he kept a watchful eye from beside Turgon on those that had threatened to cause trouble.
Finarfin then came forth, his other children standing behind him. Finrod came to Finarfin’s side to support his father.
“What you say may be true, my brother,” he said to Fëanor. “But we should not make decisions like these in such haste. We must take time to prepare for this great journey into the unknown. We must think it over before making a definitive pronouncement to go.”
“What have we to wait for?” Fëanor answered loudly. “The Valar to give us permission? We are not their slaves who must ask when and where we can go! I say we go immediately! We shall set out soonest, before tomorrow’s noon.”
“It is not wise to set out yet!” Finarfin tried to call again to his brother but it was of no use, Fëanor’s mind was made up.
“Go to your families and your kin! Call them to join us back to the Hither Lands!” called out Fëanor. “For tomorrow we leave! Pack light, my friends, for we have a long way to go and need not carry heavy burdens. We shall find new treasures for us all when we arrive!”
The crowds began to disperse and the courtyard hummed loudly with the discussions of the crowd. Elrilya, Idril, and Aredhel noticed that Turgon, Glorfindel, and Fingolfin were making their way inside the noble halls and so the three women followed suit so they could discuss more with them.
As soon as they met up with their friends and family, Elenwë was already had Turgon in a strong embrace. She appeared to be upset that her husband had come close to being harmed. Turgon was talking to her soothingly in a hushed tone in her ear as he held her to him. Leaning against the far wall of the parlor room, Glorfindel seemed to be in deep thought. Fingolfin was nowhere to be seen.
Idril rushed forth and joined her parents together in their embrace. Aredhel came close to her brother and his family, placing a hand on his shoulder to let him know she was there and glad that he was safe. Elrilya let them be but made her way to the lone figure against the wall.
“That was brave of you to stand up to Fëanor’s sons like you did,” she said as she came close.
“Turgon is my closest friend of my family kin,” Glorfindel said, his eyes still darkened deep from thought. “I would not see his blood or anyone else’s be shed upon this shore’s hallow ground.”
He seemed to go back into thought for a moment after he finished speaking. Elrilya could feel the turbulent emotions running through his mind.
“Do you wish to go?” she asked.
He looked up to her in small surprise but sobered quickly.
“It is an fascinating prospect, to say the least,” he conceded. “But I believe it is for the wrong reasons. Fëanor’s chosen path is extremely uncertain. It will be bitter and rough for us all if we go on this journey.”
“What if Turgon goes?” she asked, she wanted to know especially since Glorfindel was so close to him.
Glorfindel took a deep breath as he considered it for a moment.
“That is my impasse,” he finally said after a moment. “It has been on my mind since Fëanor had called upon us all, including his kin. Our loyalty is strong between each other so I will stand by whatever decision he makes and I will follow.”
She nodded, her own thoughts starting to creep further into her consciousness about the call to leave Aman.
“Elrilya,” Glorfindel said. “Perhaps it should be a good idea for you to see what your family wishes to do.”
“You’re right,” she replied. “Please let Idril know I have returned home.”
“Of course,” Glorfindel said as they both eyed the family still hugging each other tightly.
* * *
“Elrilya, Idril is here to see you,” Elrilya’s mother, Kalmírë, said as she peeked her head into her daughter’s room.
The golden-haired maiden stepped past Kalmírë into Elrilya’s room where she sat upon her bed with multiple items strewn about. Idril came and sat by her side upon the bed.
“How are you?” Elrilya asked her friend once they were alone.
“My family has decided to leave Aman,” Idril said. “My grandsire decided to after Fingon came to him and urged him to join the journey. Father said he would follow him, as did our kin, Finrod.”
“My family has also chosen to leave,” Elrilya said. “They were quite moved by Fëanor’s speech, which does worry me some.” She paused but then her eyes lit up. “But at least I will have you with me and it will not be so lonely.”
“Yes, it will be more pleasant with company like yours,” Idril said in a teasing tone. “I do not know if I could go on the journey without you. I might have had Glorfindel steal you away in the night if you were not to come.”
“That certainly would have been a sight,” Elrilya laughed. “Though, I think I would have come or stayed with you depending on your decision.”
“Oh!” Idril said with wide eyes as if she just remembered something important. “Many Noldor came to the halls after you left and spoke with my father and grandsire. They said they will go on the journey but will follow my grandsire as king, not Fëanor!”
“I hope he does not find out, he might not approve of that,” Elrilya said cautiously. “After his speech tonight, I fear he may be dangerous to others who stand in his way.”
“I hope you are wrong, but I have doubts, too,” Idril said seriously. “Though, I must go now, Amil needs help preparing and packing.”
“Yes, I must finish as well,” said Elrilya as she glanced around at the things she had pulled out in consideration. “Shall I see you early tomorrow morning?”
“We will be meeting in the courtyard by the White Tree before setting out to the gates,” Idril said. “Goodbye.”


**Excerpt used from The Silmarillion text by J.R.R. Tolkien.

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Quenya Translations:
Tarsa mí Erumar: trouble in heaven
vinya quen: young one
Atar: father
Amil: mother
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