Paths of Exile by Zdenka

Chapter 1

1. To the Ends of the Earth (Speech)

She can never recall the exact words of Fëanor’s speech, only that it rouses her blood like a trumpet call. Feredwen has followed her lord Celegorm to the hunt, but now she will follow him further, through those unbounded new lands.

Fëanor and his sons are descending the hill, gathering their own people about them in the torchlight. Feredwen pushes her way through the crowd to Celegorm’s side.

“My lord,” she says, her face exultant, “my lord, I am with you.” He laughs and grips her shoulder in passing. She is not the only one to fall in behind him.

2. Revenge (Body language)

The sprawled bodies tell their own tale; she can see it as it happened. Celegorm’s sword buried hilt-deep in Dior’s chest; a white arrow in Celegorm’s throat; and over there Nimloth lies with the bow fallen from her hands, where one of their host cut her down.

Feredwen is shaking with fury. Nimloth’s death, Dior –- balanced against her lord’s death, all Menegroth weighs too little. She longs for an enemy, shifting her gaze like an arrow without a target, but finds only the dead.

Then someone says, “We found the children.” Celegorm’s followers look at each other with new purpose.

3. Eregion (Sign language)

She hears the sound first from a distance, metal striking against metal, and reaches for her bow. Next is the smell of smoke, all too familiar, as she approaches cautiously. It is not until she climbs the ridge and looks down from behind a screen of holly trees that the old memories of battle release her and she recognizes the clangor of a forge.

It seems a prosperous town, with fair dwellings. A lofty hall stands in the center. She sees with growing amazement the star with silver rays, sign of the House of Fëanor, traced boldly across its doors.

4. Their Hearts Were Not At Peace (Mind reading)

That night as she walks the familiar path of dreams, it twists beneath her feet. Again and again she sees the white sands of Alqualondë stained with blood, or feels the shock of her knife going into Daradir’s breast, or hears the cold voice of the Valar’s herald denying mercy. And always a pair of burning eyes piercing her, leaving her defenseless in the dark.

She flees from her bed to the forge and tries to banish the visions with work, but her hand trembles.

The next day, Annatar greets her with a faintly mocking smile, as if he knows.

5. The Last Calm (Writing)

Feredwen paces through the armory. Here lie stacks of swords and spearheads from Eregion’s forges, bows, sheaves of arrows. Here too are Dwarvish mail-coats, made to Elvish stature -- a kingly gift indeed, sent by Durin of Khazad-dûm when he learned their peril. Feredwen lifts a layer of the cold linked rings, admiring their suppleness and their makers’ skill.

In her mind’s eye she sees Khazad-dûm’s strong doors of stone, made with blended Dwarven and Elvish craft and enchantment. Sauron will not cast them down easily.

Celebrimbor has written to Durin one last time: Shut the doors. The storm is coming.

6. Lines of Defense (Drawing)

Feredwen brings the scouts’ reports to Celebrimbor and watches him make notes on the maps in his precise handwriting. The earlier notations are clear and careful: what is known about Sauron’s forces and their positions, the state of the fortifications, the routes that Gil-galad’s army might take to reach them. Later, they are scribbled in haste, telling of positions overcome and companies cut off.

When she comes to tell him the archers have been driven back, he draws the pen across the parchment with a single sharp motion, leaving a thick black line through Ost-in-Edhil, and takes up his sword.