In Darkness Bound by Fiondil

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Chapter 8: Olwë

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8: Olwë

The Lindaran in Aman stood on the balcony to the throne room and stared pensively upon Alqualondë. The palace of Olwë sat midmost the city on an artificial mound overlooking the Swanhaven. To the east was the harbor gate, an arch of living rock sea-carved, a mournful lullaby echoing through the holes of the arch as a sea breeze blew gently through them. Southward, beyond the seawall, he could see the Light of the Two Trees streaming from this end of the Calacirya, causing the gems that littered the shore to glitter and sparkle like stars fallen from the heavens. To the north lay the ever dark of the star-strewn heavens and Olwë enjoyed that view best. Swanships sailed serenely beyond the harbor bar, seeking for the fish that were the main staple of their diet, though they traded with the Noldor for other foodstuffs that did not grow easily here on the shores of Elendë.

Olwë sighed, leaning his elbows on the balcony rail, looking down at the lamp-lit quays as his people went about their business. He could hear flutes in the distance and out on the waters sailors sang a sea chanty invoking Lord Ossë’s aid in their endeavors. Street vendors walked serenely about the city selling their goods to all and sundry and elflings played in courtyards and gardens under the indulgent eyes of their minders.

He smelled perfume in the air, a pleasant mix of jasmine and lavender, and smiled, though he did not turn as his wife came up behind him. Lirillë wrapped her arms around her husband and leaned her head against his back. He straightened, wrapping his own hands around hers.

"Will you go?" she asked quietly.

"I do not know," he answered honestly enough. "Arafinwë would welcome me for Eärwen’s sake and for the love we bear for one another. Ñolofinwë and Indis, though?" He shook his head. "I fear they will see it as interference on my part."

"You and Finwë were ever close," Lirillë said as she disentangled herself from Olwë to move to his side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her as they looked out upon their city. "Our people have grown close over the ages, especially once we left Tol Eressëa and the Noldor helped us in building Alqualondë," she continued. "It is a pity that Fëanáro’s... impulsiveness has strained relations between our two peoples."

Olwë smiled down at Lirillë. "Impulsiveness, is it? I think you’re being too kind on the ellon."

She smiled back. "I like to find the good in all, as well you know."

He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips and she responded in kind and for a while they were lost in their bond and love for one another. When they finally broke apart, Olwë gave her another smile. "I know indeed, which is why I love you so. You help me to find the balance for my own... impulsiveness."

She gave him a merry laugh and by mutual consent they turned and went back into the throne room, usually referred to as the Great Audience Hall. It was perhaps not as large as those in Tirion or Vanyamar, or even as ornate, but it was beautiful in its own way. The thrones themselves were wrought from giant alabaster shells and studded with pearls, sitting on a three-step dais of mithril. The room was circular, its roof domed, an unusual architectural feature not found among the Noldor or Vanyar. The throne dais stood in the room’s center underneath the domed roof, which was not entirely closed at the top, allowing for starlight to shine through and bathe the room in a silvery glow. Other illumination was provided by crystal lamps suspended from mithril-wrought sconces that were placed around the wall. Pearls, emeralds and sapphires adorned the walls and ceiling in pleasing geometric designs and the play of light was reminiscent of the sea. The floor was a dark blue-grey marble inlaid with pearls outlining eight-pointed stars. There were several doors made of precious nessamelda wood that led to various antechambers but the main door, opposite the balcony, was wrought of beaten mithril. There were fifteen panels, seven on each side of a single central panel. The smaller panels showed representations of all the Valar in low-relief while the main panel featured a collage of scenes from the everyday lives of the Lindar, with the swanships being prominently displayed.

The rulers of the Lindar were presently alone in the room, Lirillë having dismissed the guards and servitors who were normally in attendance. Olwë moved towards the dais, sitting on the top step before his throne. Lirillë joined him.

"Faniel is naturally upset," she said, speaking of their daughter-in-law, married to their youngest son, Salmar. She was the youngest child of Finwë and Indis. She and Salmar were only recently married and had been husband and wife for less than a year.

Olwë nodded. "She told me she wanted to go to Tirion to see her parents."

"Will you permit her to leave?" Lirillë asked.

Her husband gave her a surprised look. "Why would I forbid it? My only concern is that if she and Salmar go there they will be caught up in the madness that seems to have overtaken the Noldor."

"Not all of them," Lirillë reminded him. "Eärwen will be there and you know she and Arafinwë will watch over them."

Olwë nodded, still not happy at the thought of his youngest son and their newest daughter leaving the safety of Alqualondë.

"Perhaps you could place a time limit for their visit," Lirillë suggested, knowing well how her beloved felt. "I see no reason for them to remain for more than a half a year. By then Ñolofinwë will have gotten settled in his new role and hopefully the excitement over Fëanáro will have died down."

"That sounds reasonable," Olwë admitted, thankful once again that Lirillë was his wife and queen. "Will you tell them?"

Lirillë smiled. "Coward."

The Lindarin king laughed. "We’ll tell them together then." After a moment though he sobered as he thought again about the letter Eärwen had sent them. "Finwë is such a fool," he muttered sadly.

"I know," Lirillë said gently. "He is your dearest friend and you grieve for him."

"I grieve that he did not see fit to let me know what was happening. I could have gone to him, made him see the folly of his decision to follow Fëanáro into exile. Why would he forsake our friendship so easily as to leave me out of his councils when we were ever helping one another before?" His expression was one of loss mixed with anger and confusion.

Lirillë wrapped her arms around him, giving him a fierce hug. "I do not know, beloved. Perhaps he was ashamed to send for you. Perhaps he feared your disapproval and disappointment more than your anger and could not face it. Perhaps in all the excitement of the moment he simply forgot."

"Perhaps," Olwë said with a sigh.

"You could still go to him, you know," his wife said. "They do not set out for this Formenos for another week according to Eärwen."

Olwë shook his head. "If not even Indis could persuade him from his course, I doubt I could do any better. By the time I reached the city it will be too late anyway."

"Then, what will you do?" she asked.

"I will remain here and pray that somehow all will work out as it should and when the time of exile is over my friend and brother will be restored to me."

"Á vala Manwë," Lirillë whispered.

"Indeed," Olwë sighed, leaning over to give his wife another kiss. "I suppose we should return to our duties," he said with a wry grin when they finally came up for air. "The kingdom won’t run itself." Lirillë smiled back but said nothing.

It was some time though before they did indeed leave the throne room, preferring to sit where they were, their arms wrapped around each other for comfort while the stars above bathed them with their silvery light and the sound of flutes drifted from somewhere outside, serenading them. As far as they were concerned, the kingdom would just have to get along without them for a little while longer.

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Lindaran: King of the Lindar, the name by which the Teleri called themselves [Linda + aran], cf. Noldóran ‘King of the Noldor’ and Ingaran ‘High King’. While Noldóran and Ingaran are attested, Lindaran is constructed based on the attested examples.

Lindar: ‘The Singers’, the name by which the Teleri call themselves. The adjective is Lindarin.

Elendë: Another name for Eldamar, that part of Valinor inhabited by the Elves.

Á vala Manwë: ‘May Manwë order it’, an attested phrase.