Journey From Darkness

Title: Journey From Darkness 6/10

Author: Mayetra

Disclaimer: All things Tolkien belong to his estate; I only borrow them on occasion and always return them in good working order. I write fan fiction solely for my own enjoyment and do not claim any copyright or ownership of his works nor do I have intent to make financial gain. All original concepts and characters are from my own twisted plot bunnies and remain my property.

Chapter Six: Departure

Unfortunately for Glorfindel, they didn’t make it back to his room unnoticed.

Elrond was just approaching from the opposite direction when they arrived. “Glorfindel, I have been looking for you.”

Glorfindel cursed silently under his breath. “Is it something that can wait until morning?” He sent Elrond a meaningful look.

Elrond shook his head sadly. “I am afraid not.”

Glorfindel sighed in frustration. He turned and looked down at Faile, who was looking a bit put out by the entire situation. “I am sorry, Faile, but we will have to continue this discussion later.”

Faile couldn’t keep the disappointment from her face. “I understand.” She understood, all to well, the demands of duty. She had always put her people before herself. She could not find fault with Glorfindel for doing the same.

Glorfindel kiss her gently on the cheek and then followed Elrond.

*~*

The next morning found Faile summoned to Gil-galadrivarivate study. She entered and glanced around. The room was filled with half a dozen Elves. Aside from Glorfindel, Elrond, and Gil-galad, she did not recognize the others present.

“Ah, Faile, good you have arrived,” Gil-galad greeted her. He motioned for her to join the group, who were surrounding a large table. He pointed to the three unknown members of the council. “This is Círden, Galdor, and Ninya.”

Faile’s attention was then caught by the map on the table, which was part map and part detailed model. Since her people never left Mar Mordollo*, there was no need for such things. There were a few crude maps of the valley, but they were not scaled and consisted mostly of lines and shapes.

Elrond could read the interest on her face and tapped the raised mountains where a small red star was affixed. “We are here, in Forlindon*.”

“And where is Imladris*?” Faile asked, scanning the broad green area between the brown and white raised mountains.

“Here,” he answered her query, as he tapped a small red circle on the opposite mountain range. “This is the Hithaeglir*.” He made a motion with his hand to encompass all the mountain range.

“Where is your home, Faile?” Glorfindel moved to the northern end of the map table.

Faile furrowed her brow as she tried to relate this broad picture with her limited knowledge. “Where was I discovered?” she finally asked, unable to answer his question.

Glorfindel’s finger tapped the northern edge of the valley where Imladris was located. “You were discovered just inside the valley.” His finger swept down through a narrow depression that indicated a pass leading out towards a great flat plain. “I am assuming that you journeyed through this pass.”

Faile nodded. “I did come up from the grasslands.” She was beginning to relate the map to her journey. She moved slowly towards him, her eyes scanning the map and comparing it with what she remembered from her travels.

“I would say that my home is somewhere here.” She pointed towards the northern edge of the mountain range.

Glorfindel nodded. He had thought as much and her answer seemed to confirm it, now it was just a matter of narrowing down which valley was the one her people inhabited.

“What else can you tell us about the valley and lands surrounding it?” Círden asked quietly.

Faile frowned once again, before shrugging her shoulders. “I do not know, we never venture past the valley walls. It is too dangerous with the Saurihos* infesting the surrounding lands.”

“These Saurihos of which you speak, where do they come from?” Elrond asked.

“From the great peak that shadows the valley,” Faile answered.

Gil-galad sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

“What?” Faile was confused. She noted the exchanged glances and furrowed brows of the group.

Glorfindel reached over and touched a large peak. “This is where Carn Dûm* is located, the capital city of Angmar*. It is ruled by the Witch-king, who is chief in service to Sauron.”

None of this information meant anything to Faile; she only understood that they lived in the shadow of their enemy, a fact she had known since she was a small child. “Why is this a concern? I could have told you that we lived in our enemy’s shadow. The dark hordes come down from the mountain and into the valley, they attack and then retreat.”

“You must understand, Child,” Ninya began gently. “Your problem is part of a bigger one and it threatens the whole of Arda*. This presents a challenge, for your home lies in the center of Angmar. They will know an army approaches long before we reach your valley.” She smiled sadly at Faile.

“That is why you are all here,” Gil-galad looked from Faile’s crestfallen expression to Ninya sad one. “We will march an army to Mar Mordollo’s front gates. The question to be answered is, how?”

Silence reigned for many moments and Faile could not help but continue to examine the map. Her fingers trailed across the blue expanse along the right side of the table. “Is this the Sea?” She hadn’t meant to vocalize the question out loud.

Círden smiled warmly, he was the Lord of the Havens and chief among the Elven mariners. The Sea was his greatest love. “Yes, Child. That is the Sea. It is much larger than what you see represented and runs deeper than any water on land. One day, if you wish, I will take you out for a ride in one of our ships…” he trailed off as an idea struck him.

Glorfindel picked up his line of thought. “If we can not march an army in, we may be able to sail them in.”

Broad smiles crossed the faces of those present, with the exception of Faile. Her face was a mask of horror at the thought of traveling on the water. Her fear of water, ingrained from childhood, was not so easily conquered. “Are you all mad?”

She stared at them in disbelief. “You would be eaten alive by the monsters that dwell beneath the surface before you ever even drew near to your destination.”

Glorfindel quickly explained. “The waters in the valley are home to beasts that prey upon the land.” He looked at Faile. “These beasts are not present where we are going to travel.”

Faile didn’t look convinced, but said nothing.

Círden took control of the conversation at this point. “We can sail from the Grey Havens, up the Gulf of Lhûn and around the Peninsula of Forlindon.” He followed the shoreline north until the water turned east into a two-pronged bay. “If we sail into the Icebay of Forochel* and beach our boats there. The Forodwaith* can hide the boats and lead us through Forochel.” His finger moved across the white expanse of land to a little cluster of low hills. “We can enter through the pass between these hills and the northern tip of the Hithaeglir. With any luck, Angmar will not be expecting an attack from the North and we should not meet with any resistance. More importantly, they may not even realize we are in their territory until we are well established at Mar Mordollo.”

“We are well into summer. Will we have time to reach the bay before it freezes over?” Elrond asked.

Círden consulted quietly with Galdor, before answering Elrond. “It will be close, but we think there is time to make the trip.”

Faile had been watching this all with amazement. She felt a little out of place. This war council was unlike anything she had witnessed before. Her people never talked this much about anything. It was a simple, uncomplicated cycle. The Saurihos attacked, her people defended their home, the Saurihos left.

“What if you do not make it in time?” Faile asked quietly.

“Then we will turn back and try again after the spring thaw,” Galdor answered her.

“Then I must again ask your leave,” she avoided looking at Glorfindel as she addressed her comment to Gil-galad.

“No.” It was Glorfindel who answered her.

“I did not ask you,” she ground out through clenched teeth.

The others watched in amusement as Faile and Glorfindel argued. Finally, Gil-galad cleared his throat and gained their attention. “We will make it in time.” He turned to Círden. “See that the preparations are made quickly.”

Círden nodded. Galdor and he left the room.

“Elrond, you and Ninya see to the gathering of my army.”

They both left the room.

Finally, he turned to Glorfindel and Faile. “You will both cease your bickering.” He eyed them sternly. He was regretting the loss of Faile, but his joy that Glorfindel was finally happy outweighed his other feelings. He motioned for them to go, which they did quickly.

Once alone, he studied the map again. It was a sound plan, but he was tired of war. Little did he know that he would never see peace on Arda.

*~*

Faile walked down the wooden dock to the large boat tied to the mooring. She had a death-grip on Glorfindel’s hand and her eyes continued to dart back and forth to the water on either side of them.

Glorfindel lead Faile up the gangplank on the deck of I’manadh*, Círdan’s flagship. They had little time to be alone and he was regretting that they had not joined yet. War was always an uncertain endeavor. He could see that she was ready to bolt from the ship. Despite reassuring her over and over that there were no monsters in the water, she didn’t believe him.

“Easy, Pen’tithen*. You are completely safe. Would I lie to you?” Glorfindel gently loosed the death-grip on his hand and held it between his own.

“I know that you would not lie to me, but I cannot shake my unease. I will be glad when we reach the shore once more.” Faile smiled half-heartedly.

*~*

Glorfindel found Faile huddled on the deck at the bow of the ship. Nothing could convince her to join him in a cabin below deck.

“How are you doing?” he asked, noting her pallor.

“I… I am fine,” she replied somewhat hesitantly.

He produced a wrapped bundle from behind his back and crouched down next to her. He held it out and waited for her to accept it. “I have a gift for you.”

Faile smiled and accepted the bundle. She unwrapped the cloth quickly and with all the glee of a child. Her people did not often have celebrations and gift giving was rare. Her breath caught as she stared in awe at the bow nested amid the cotton. It was finely crafted and strong, with the same vine pattern as on her armor. “Thank you,” Faile’s voice was barely a whisper.

“I made it for you. Yours has been weakened and you needed a new one.” He smiled as he watched her stand and tested the draw, her previous fear forgotten.

“It is magnificent,” Faile removed her old bow and replaced it with her new one. “Thank you again.” She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips.

Glorfindel wanted to deepen the kiss, but preferred not to give the entire ship a show. When she pulled back, he reached out and turned her so that she faced the open water. He pulled her back against him as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

They were silent for several moments before she spoke again. “Glorfindel?”

“Yes.”

“I feel this strange longing that I have never felt before. I… The Sea scares me, but…” she sighed, unable to give words to the feeling.

Glorfindel smiled. He knew that she was suffering from the longing that affected all Elves that came near the Sea. It was like a siren’s call, beckoning them to Eldamar*. “It is the yearning for Eldamar. All Elves feel the longing once they have seen the Sea. We were never meant to live in this part of Arda. Sooner or later, we must all make the journey to Eldamar.”

“But I want to stay here,” Faile said in a petulant tone. She did not like the feeling; it left an emptiness in her.

Glorfindel kissed the top of her head. “It matters not. Our time here fades, but do not worry about it now.”

Faile decided not to argue with him, it was pointless. She gazed out onto the blue-green water, every now and again; the wind would crown the waves with white foam. Even with her uneasiness, she could appreciate the beauty of the Sea. Off to the west, was a small island. It was rocky and devoid of green, growing things. Seagulls covered it, as they had long ago claimed it for a nesting ground.

“What is that place called?” Faile asked curiously, pointing towards the island.

“That is Himling. There is where Maedhros built his fortress and defended the Eastern portions of Beleriand. During Dagor Bragollach* in the winter of 455 in the First Age, Fëanor’s sons regrouped there and held the hill until the disaster of the Nirnaeth Arhoediad* when their power was broken.” A shadow crossed Glorfindel’s face as he remembered another battle. It was a battle that often haunted his reverie coming unbidden from the back of his mind.

Faile couldn’t see his face and continued her query. “When was the Nirnaeth Arhoediad?”

“In the summer of 473, also, during the First Age.”

“Did you fight in those battles?”

“Not in the Dagor Bragollach, but I was present for the Nirnaeth Arhoediad. We were ten thousand strong that day, marching under Turgon’s flag. The finest the Houses of Gondolin* had to offer,” pride tinged his voice.

“Gondolin?”

“The city that I lived in long ago, it was ruled by Turgon,” Glorfindel smiled as he remembered the good times. “It was a sight that I wish I could share with you. It was built with white stone on Amon Gwareth and its beauty rivaled Tirion.”

“Can we go there?” Faile wanted to see this place that Glorfindel was so proud of.

“No.” No word that passed from Glorfindel’s lips had ever held such heart-wrenching sadness. “It was destroyed long ago by Morgoth. My first life ended there.”

“What?” Faile turned to face Glorfindel.

He smiled sadly. “I was killed fighting a Balrog, but I have the satisfaction of knowing that I took it with me. That my people escaped.”

“But, if you died then, how can you be here now?” Faile suddenly had a suspicion that he was jesting with her.

“I was resurrected from the Halls of Waiting and sent back by the Valar*, for what purpose I cannot tell you.”

Faile could see no deceit written on his face, only a great sadness. She pulled him to her and embraced him, wishing she could wash away his pain.

Glorfindel returned her embrace. For the first time in two ages, he felt comforted.

They remained that way for a long while.

End Chapter Six

Mar Mordollo – Home out of Shadow (Quenya)
Forlindon – City where Gil-galad lived during the Second Age (Sindarin: north Lindon)
Imladris – Rivendell (Sindarin: deep-dale-cleft)
Hithaeglir – Misty Mountains (Sindarin: mist-peak-line)
Saurihos – Foul Folk (Quenya)
Carn Dûm – Fortress and chief city of Angmar, located at the northern end of the Misty Mountains.
Angmar – Iron Home (Sindarin) Witch-kingdom on both sides of the northern Misty Mountains. Ruled by
the Lord of the Nazgûl who was known as the Witch-king of Angmar.
Arda – Middle Earth (Quenya: region, realm)
Forochel – North ? (Sindarin) cold, barren area in northern Middle Earth
Forodwaith – North – People (Sindarin) Race of Men that lived in the Northern portions of Middle Earth
I’manadh – The Fortune (Sindarin)
Silmarilli – Brilliance (Quenya)
Pen’tithen – Little One (Sindarin)
Eldamar – elvenhome (Quenya) The lands of the Eldar in the West.
Eldar – Elves (Quenya: people of the stars)
Dagor Bragollach – battle quick-flame (Sindarin) The fourth of the great battles of the Wars of Beleriand
Nirnaeth Arhoediad – tears unnumbered (Sindarin) The fifth of the great battles of the Wars of Beleriand
Gondolin – rock hidden (Sindarin) Elven city and kingdom built by Turgon
Valar – The fourteen greatest of the Ainur