Seahorses. by hennethgalad

Chapter 1

   The music was beautiful, but Finarfin found that the thought of another formal dance made him long for the quiet of his garden. Írimë came towards him, still laughing over her shoulder as those behind her called after her. But she gestured to a tall window, and he stepped out into the glowing darkness of Alqualondë. It was only his second visit, he had been a child when last they had come, and this was his first attendance at the Court of Olwë. He admired the sea-elves, the lovely swan ships and the tremendous arch of rock, but most of all he loved the light, the silver of the stars and the shining nacre of the halls and towers reflected in the still waters of the harbour. The window led onto a high balcony, the harbour was beneath their feet, the silver lanterns gleaming on every ripple in the still sea.    He wished he could paint the light in the air, but he could not imagine how to capture the ever-changing hues, so subtle and tenuous, a hint of green, blending into violet, or deep blue, or silver, like living mist, or the light beneath the waves.
   Írimë breathed deeply ' "Oh sing, my heart, of the city of stars" ' she half-sang, then turned to him with a smile 'It is so beautiful, it is so beautiful that I tire of hearing the word beautiful, for everyone that I have spoken to has said it at least once. But what can we say, when we see this ?' She gestured to the sea, and they stood in silence for a time, breathing the strangely familiar salt air, listening to the gentle remorselessness of the waves.

   At length Írimë turned to Finarfin 'There is something that I would ask you. It is... it concerns our brothers.'
   He drew in a sharp breath and turned away, then sighed quietly and looked at her with resignation 'What new trouble is there ?'
   But she shook her head 'No, nothing new, but I have become suspicious, I think there may be...' she paused, gripped the railing and bowed her head. Finarfin had not seen her so troubled before, he was almost shocked.
   'Lalwen ! Do not fret, they merely bicker, as pups over a toy, it is nothing !'
   Írimë laughed and looked into his eyes 'Dearest Finarfin, I am sure that you are right. But... Tell me, have you ever heard Fingolfin mock Fëanor ?'
   Finarfin frowned 'Mock ? No... I have heard him angry, and hurt; when we are alone, he has complained bitterly of his treatment at the hands of our brother, but no, no he does not mock him. Ha, mock ! He admires him too much, as do we all ! He is merely hurt by him, not contemptuous.'
   Írimë nodded 'Nor I. It is not the Fingolfin that we know. But there are songs and tales...'
   Finarfin cursed 'How can they be so... so malicious ? Why do they hate us so ?'
   'Who ? Who is it who hates us ? Who sings these songs ? Who composes them ? I have had this investigated, and everyone says the same thing, they were at a party, it was late, they did not see who sang...'
   'Do you think...'
   Írimë interrupted him 'I think it is worse than that. For when they are asked why they themselves sing such words, when they are without truth, then the singers speak of talk. And the talk is worse than the songs. All have heard of someone who was present when Fingolfin mocked his brother, yet no investigation has found anyone who was actually there.'
   'The songs are lies, what then ?'
   'Oh ! Well... it is only... The readiness of all to believe such absurd tales chills my blood. What could make them see our dear Fingolfin in such a light ?'

   There was silence for a moment, and Finarfin stared down at the water where the bellfish pulsed in glowing clouds, drifting in the wake of a passing swan. Beyond the harbour, a solitary light moved on the shore, a watcher with a lantern walking by the sea. He thought he could see a second figure, but Írimë spoke again.
   'The actors gave me the idea. They were larking as my people asked their questions, and for a moment one actor spoke in a voice so like that of Fingolfin that my friend was almost misled. Oh Finarfin ! Do you not see ? What if there is one who can feign the voice of our brother ? He need only conceal himself at a party, speak his lies, and then be as shocked as the rest at what he has "heard". Indeed, it may be that there is one, though I doubt it, who can feign the voice of Fëanor, and spread lies in this way.'
   Finarfin felt his heart turn to stone, then beat like a startled bird fleeing. He put a hand to his brow, sick with horror, imagining someone feigning to be himself, insulting his father. 'Oh Írimë, no ! No ! It cannot be ! No, it is too... it is too dark.'

   Írimë was silent for a moment, looking up at the remote stars. Finarfin looked up, and for the first time, it seemed, he saw the blackness between the stars. He swallowed, and gripped the railing himself; the vastness of the void appalled him, Arda seemed a frail speck in the darkness, like a tiny bellfish, lost and alone, like the lantern on the shore.
   'We are only elves, Finarfin. The Enemy is so much greater and more powerful than we that he is beyond imagining. Yet he exists, and it may be that what to him is a mere jest, is to us a great catastrophe. When the horse walks, the ants are crushed, whether the horse heeds them or no.'
   Finarfin sighed and looked down 'I myself have toyed with ants, poking their nest with a stick...'
   Írimë laughed 'Do you think that I have forgotten ? Do you think that Tirion has forgotten the revenge of the ants ? My poor little brother, you looked like a strawberry, they bit you so much !'
   Finarfin laughed 'What then must we do ? Bite the horse ?'
   She laughed again then shook her head 'No. No, I do not think the horse would feel our teeth. Nor do I think we would do aught but increase his malice. No, we must work together, you and I, to bring harmony between our brothers, and let the light of truth scatter the shadows of lies. But first, there is one whom you have yet to meet, the lady Eärwen.'
   'Ah yes, she was not here when last we came. I am indeed eager to meet the Swan of Alqualondë !'
   'Yes, her hair is a marvel, shining silver like the stars of Varda.'
   'I need no more persuasion, I have heard the songs, and none are mocking !'
   'No indeed, she is... She is grave and serene, a swan among geese.'
   'Geese ? Do you mock the fair maidens of Olwë ?'
   Írimë laughed 'It would seem so ! No, no, I merely seek to prepare you for her... well, her majesty.'
   'The daughter of Olwë could scarce be otherwise, he himself is so impressive. But where is the lady ?'
   Írimë pointed along the shore to the solitary lantern, and Finarfin felt something within himself, which had been in motion, suddenly stop, like his heart. But instead of fear he felt great peace, as though all his life he had been swimming, alone in the darkness, until at last her lantern guided him to shore. He blinked, and looked at Írimë, who was looking at him in concern.
   'What is it Finarfin ? What have you seen ?'
   Finarfin rubbed his forehead briefly 'I cannot say, not seen so much as felt. I think... I think we shall be friends, Eärwen and I.'
   Írimë smiled delightedly 'Oh wonderful ! Mother was concerned that our kindreds are growing apart, she was friend to Olwë and Elwë before the Crossing, and regrets their parting. I hope you do become friends, that would... yes. Well, go to her !'

   Alya watched the distant elf stride along the shore towards them. The lights of Alqualondë left him in silhouette, but she could see from the cut of his robe that he was of the Noldor. She wondered if he had been sent to fetch them, and looked out along the finger of Ossë's Hand to where Eärwen stood alone on the dark rock. It seemed a pity to interrupt her, she had been studying the seahorse for so long, and now the hatchlings they had watched emerge were at last gathering, full grown and ready to court. The bellfish swarmed thickly under the shelter of the Hand, and the delicate seahorses drifted among them, finer far than the most exquisite craftings of the Noldor, for all their great pride.

   But the intruder drew near, she must speak.
   'Eärwen, someone approaches.'
   Eärwen sighed 'Oh, tell them I shall come soon.'
   'Eärwen, you must greet your father’s guests, they have come all this way.'
   'As have these creatures, which are far fairer.'
   'Do you see the patterns you sought ?'
   'Yes, though I must watch again, and in other places. But I feel that there is the influence of the current to consider, though whether they use that motion as we would the wind when we sail, or whether it merely disturbs what would be a different set of patterns altogether, I cannot say. But yes, they move in harmonies, here and there. You may be right that they are different kindreds, or families, scattered among the grouping.'
   'And the harmonies are not caused by the forms of the rocks and corals ?'
   'I think not, no. I shall tell our tutor, she will be pleased with you, Alya, though I myself am disappointed.'
   'I do not see why, your theory seemed as likely to me as to our tutor. When we seek the path of wisdom we must not regret that some paths lead nowhere.'
   'It is not that. I think I regret that kinship marks us so deeply, that we are what we are, however we might choose to be otherwise.'
   'But Eärwen, what would you change ? In yourself or in your family ?'
   'Oh Alya, I fret as any other elf does, busy with my doubts and worries, though I smile for my family. I have that in common with the swans at least. But it is not my family, or any family, not even the bickering brothers of Tirion that trouble me, so much as the Music, moving us all, seahorse, swan and elf, in a dance we seem to have no more say in than the leaf blown on the wind.'
   

   Alya sighed, Eärwen liked to think more deeply than she herself, who studied the creatures for their own sake, not to determine some abstract principle. But they had long been friends, and she knew how to lift the mood of the lady of the sea.
   'Have you chosen whom to take as passenger in the race tomorrow ?'
   Eärwen looked over her shoulder 'Father asked me to invite one of the Finwëans, "it little matters which", and mother asked me to be nice to Finarfin, he is her favourite, and she thinks him overlooked in the scramble around his brothers. Perhaps I shall, I admit that I am curious, it seems strange to me that brothers should disagree so bitterly.'
   Alya laughed 'That is because your brothers are so charming, and you are such friends with them. Not all families are as harmonious as the House of Olwë. My own sister thinks me foolish, poking about in rock pools studying the small creatures, when there is the whole of Alqualondë, and all its rich culture to swim in.'
   'Your sister is very wise, we do neglect our people, here we are while all the city feasts our guests, and look, here is one come to rebuke our childish folly.'

   Finarfin raised an arm in greeting as he drew near, and Alya raised her lantern in welcome. She heard Eärwen sigh softly, but the daughter of Olwë did not move to welcome her guest. Alya smiled to herself, then bowed to the steanger.
   'Stars shine upon you, guest, welcome to the Hand of Ossë.'
   'May you walk in the Light ! I am Finarfin son of Finwë. Do I have the honour to greet the lady Eärwen ?'
   Alya smiled, she could see, though he struggled to keep his face still, that she was not what he had expected, being shorter, darker and altogether livelier than Eärwen.
   'Here is the lady' she said, gesturing to the finger, where Eärwen had turned to watch them 'I am Alya, a friend and fellow student. We are here to observe the dance of the seahorses.'
   Finarfin looked astonished 'That is true ? I saw a seahorse once, as a child, and I have just now heard the song, and seen your people dance it, but I did not think the dance real. May I see ?'
   Alya smiled and gestured to Eärwen, who made room at the point of the finger. Finarfin stepped lightly onto the rock and spoke softly to Eärwen.
 

   A strange feeling came to Alya; she had never had a vision, and had found it hard to believe, or to understand those who did, but the air, or the sound of the waves, or the very light around them was changed.

   Finarfin and Eärwen were not speaking, merely looking at each other, both of them tall and fair, well-matched and akin beyond the mere surface, alike in the very rhythm of their lives. And it seemed to Alya that instead of elves, two of the delicate seahorses stood on the rock, still, but poised. And she lowered the lantern and stepped back, for this dance was one that her presence would shift, as the currents of Uinen shifted the dance below.