Out of the Darkling West by Lindariel

| | |

Chapter 1

Teleporno finished stowing the sail. He raised his voice over the sound of the estuarine tide slapping at the swan-ship's flanks. "What do you see?"

Alatáriel stood at the bow, right hand draped over the arched white neck. She peered eastward. "I can scarcely see in this dimness, but I hear waterfalls upriver. Canyalqua will have to stay here." She put her other arm around the swan's neck, embracing the prow. "She has carried us safely thus far, but even she cannot sail up waterfalls."

Teleporno remembered his objection to the trite name Alatáriel had chosen for their ship. But all swans are brave, he had said. They just don't think they have to go around proving it all the time. Unlike the Fëanorions, he had thought but didn't say, for after all he was in love with the very Laurelin of Finwë's family tree. But given the eventual circumstances of their sailing East, he was glad she hadn't gone with his suggestion of Entulessë. That would be far too heartbreaking, for there would be no returning.

They had fallen under the Ban of the Valar along with all Alatáriel's kin who had left the uttermost West; their life together would lay to the East, somewhere in the unexplored wilderness of Endor. It didn't matter that they had fought fiercely on behalf of his kin and the rest of the wronged Teleri; it mattered that they had bolted from Aman in the wake of the Kinslaying without first seeking the permission they'd agreed would be necessary to acquire for their voyage of exploration. They weren't even traveling with the Exiles: agile Canyalqua, sailed by the two who had lovingly built and provisioned her for just this journey, had quickly outstripped the fleet of stolen Teleri swan-ships so clumsily piloted by their Noldorin thieves. Her slow shore-hugging crawl northeast, the heart-stopping short sail across open sea, and the even slower trip down the coast of the Hither Lands unmarked by the shifting of Treelight had taken more time, it seemed, than even the long yéni Teleporno and Alatáriel had already lived.

Alatáriel unwrapped herself from the prow. She had long expected they would need to leave the swan-ship eventually. Abandoning this beautiful craft, the first work she and Teleporno had created together, would be a wrench. But she was so weary from their long sea journey! Dry land, running water, and a chance to sleep without rocking beckoned. Eagerly she tucked back her cloak and reached to unload the first box.

"Wait," said Teleporno, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm not ready to head inland yet. How about we seek a place to bathe and get a bit of a look at the landscape before we take any irrevocable steps?"

 

 

 

Teleporno turned the swan-ship to southeast around a sharp point of land. A large mountain, the last peak of the range they'd been following southwest for several days, reared its dark head into clouds beside the sea. Beyond stretched indistinct grey plains as far south as Alatáriel could see. As she strained to make out the details of this new terrain, she noticed the swan-ship was casting a shadow much stronger than any starlight could cause. She turned to locate the source of the puzzling light and saw Teleporno already staring into the West.

A new star lay above the horizon, a star many sizes larger than any other; rather than twinkling, it gleamed like Telperion, round and smooth as a pearl, bright as a Fëanorian lamp. Wonder siezed them. They held hands and watched as the new star slowly climbed the sky, casting its gentle silvery light on everything below. "Ele! Laita Varda, what have you wrought?" murmured Alatáriel, but Teleporno began to sing. Alatáriel joined him in singing the childish rhyme in praise of Varda Tintallë, the first hymn all elf children in Aman were taught. Children's rhyme or no, it felt so good to be moved to sing again after the horrors and hardships of the seemingly endless, undifferentiated dark time that lay just behind them! The two of them alternately sang, laughed, and wept for a very long time.

The new star was halfway up the sky before Alatáriel could tear her eyes away from it and turn her gaze back eastward. "What can you see now?" Teleporno asked.

"Still nothing but plains," replied Alatáriel after a moment of squinting. "Endor is so wide a land! But the new star should make it easier for us to find the Elf havens; all we have to do is continue to follow the coast."

"I wonder why it moves like that," Teleporno said. "Will it go all the way up and over and down? And if it does, then what?"

"I don't know," Alatáriel admitted. "But Varda does not create lights in order to hide them; she wants them to be seen. And perhaps this light is a message like the Valacirca -- a benison for the Elves and a warning to the Enemy."

"A hopeful thought. Let us put into shore," Teleporno suggested. "The new light will make it easier to find a good beach, and I would welcome the chance to sleep on grass."

Alatáriel agreed and began watching the coastline again. It bent eastward, and a narrow beach opened up to the south side of the great peak they'd been skirting. "There!" Alatáriel pointed. Teleporno turned the swan-ship onto the section of beach as quickly and easily as he had been wont to berth her back at Alqualondë.

Small smooth pebbles in shades of black, grey, and ivory made up the beach. Tiny light-colored and iridescent seashells dappled the area normally covered by high tide, which rose toward gentle sand dunes held down by plumed reeds. As she led him up the beach onto the higher ground she'd glimpsed, Alatáriel's feet crushed low plants that released clean, pungent green scents. Teleporno drew a few deep, appreciative breaths before dropping his bedroll onto one such herb thicket; Alatáriel's bedroll followed.

They lay on their spread bedrolls and held hands as they stared straight up at the new star. It was at the top of the sky now, dimming the other stars with its great light. Alatáriel began to weep again, more gently than before. Teleporno put his arms around her, and they clung together mourning, for the first time, all the evils, horrors, and losses they had seen. Exhaustion and wonder soon overtook them, and the cool silver light of the new star blanketed them as they fell asleep for the first time in a new land.

 

 

Teleporno opened his eyes to the sound of swans calling. A mist lay above him, dimming the dome of sky. The strange new star was no longer visible. An unsettling vibration rose above the swan calls, then resolved into the sound of a horn. Alatáriel stirred beside him, then sat up quickly. "What is that noise?" she asked in an urgent whisper.

"It is a hyalma, a kind of seashell you can play like a horn. My people call it Ulmo's horn for its resemblance to the Ulumúri," he replied. "But who can be blowing one in this empty place?"

They looked down from the dunes toward the beach, seeking the unknown horn player. The sound grew louder, as if two horns were playing together. A great wave drew near the shore but then stopped as they watched, rising and rising yet never breaching. The crest of the wave narrowed, towering over the beach as it resolved into the shape of a helmeted head, crowned with spume and crined in rivulets of continuously flowing water. Phosphorescent eyes turned toward them and the dark slash of a mouth opened. Teleporno knelt, then bowed all the way to the ground. Alatáriel hastened to do likewise. The horn blasts quieted as a voice spoke from the water.

"My brother has told how the Exiles shall fail and fall in their task. But I say to ye that ye may take hope. Ye must look ever East and fight the long defeat for three ages of this world before your task is done. Sail ye now south, following the swans to Eglarest where ye shall be as the first harbingers of succor. The Valar will lend ye the last light of Aman that all in these hither lands may see in fullness and be blessed by the works of Kementári."

The sound of blowing horns resumed. As the great wave breached and subsided, the horns dimmed until only the swan cries could be heard above the tide. Teleporno's lips moved in some prayer that Alatáriel couldn't quite hear, naming the Vala Ulmo. "Thank you, my Lord Ulmo," she whispered.

 

 

Alatáriel picked up the first of the limp-bound books she'd packed to use as a journal of their explorations. Its silvery mallorn fiber pages gleamed gently in the light of Vinyelen, the new star which was near setting for the seventh time. She opened the book, set it on the writing chest, and made some notes on the first page, which was almost full now that she had chronicled the events of the six previous trips of the star. Closing the book, she returned it to the chest.

Hope rose in her again, as it had with every fresh rise of Vinyelen which she had begun to think of as a "day." Time was almost assuming a rhythm again, after the chaotic dark yéni of the recent past. And Vinyelen had cast enough light that Teleporno had even braved following the swans on that one day they had struck out across open sea in a southeasterly direction. But their swan guides had been flying more or less east for some time now, close to the shoreline. She remembered again the words of Ulmo as she returned to the prow, casting her eyes ahead to follow their course. Looking to the east felt auspicious; perhaps the Elf haven was near at long last.

She watched Vinyelen set, sighing a little at the loss of the light. Her eyes lingered on the east for a moment, and she shook her head before looking back at Teleporno with a wistful smile. But as she looked at him holding the swan-ship's tiller, his face seemed brighter than usual. He stared eagerly ahead past her as everything around her grew easier to see. What new thing was this, she wondered, and turned around to face east again.

A crescent of golden light burned on the eastern horizon, brighter than anything they'd seen since Ungoliant drank down the light of the Two Trees. Around it pooled flat grey clouds, now underlit in bright rose and purple. The crescent waxed and it grew harder to look at as a third of the sky welled with light. The stars vanished as the sky slowly turned the color of lupine flowers. The clouds faded to dazzling white. The golden light grew full and round like Vinyelin, only larger and reminiscent of Laurelin rather than Telperion. And it was warm!

The nearby shores of western Beleriand writhed as a profusion of plants sprang up. Bright colors adorned some of them, such a welcome change from so long a period of greys and silvers. A curl of scent like an entire flowering garden eddied across the bow of the swan-ship. This time it was Alatáriel who started to sing, a joyous hymn to Kementári from her acolyte youth. Teleporno did not remember the words, but the chorus was simple; he joined his voice to hers as tears fell from their eyes and the ship scudded through waters suddenly blue and green.

Best of all, in the increased light they could both see a haven not far ahead, a small city of stone at a river's mouth. Small ships dotted the waters near the haven. They seemed clumsy compared with the graceful swan-ship Canyalqua, but the sight of them under the new light swelled the hopes and hearts of the weary exiles.

As they approached, grey-clad people came to stand on the wharf, staring and pointing at the swan-ship. The other ships came about and followed them toward the shore as well. Then came a very tall elf, rushing from the city onto the very dock. Everyone fell back and made way for him. His silver hair lifted in the breeze as he gestured, beckoning the swan-ship toward a berth.

Teleporno gasped. "By the Valar, I think that must be Nowë!"

"Your kinsman Nowë? The Nelyar prince?" chuckled Alatáriel. "That would explain his hair. It looks just like yours!"

They busied themselves with berthing and tying up the ship, eager as children, laughing and tripping over the work in their haste to embrace the unlooked-for miracles of this day. The crowd pressed close, many exclaiming in an unfamiliar dialect as they pointed to the swan-ship or the new light. Some shyly smiled at the two newcomers but said nothing. The tall elf finally reached the side of the ship. Beaming, he spread his arms wide in apparent welcome and said something unintelligible. Teleporno spoke to him in a language Alatáriel had heard spoken from time to time in Alqualondë but had never learned. It sounded ancient. The tall elf's face brightened and he exchanged a torrent of words with Teleporno while Alatáriel stood by, smiling.

Teleporno leapt off the ship. He turned to Alatáriel, saying "my kinsman Nowë is called Círdan here. He is the ruler of these people. He says we are welcome to Eglarest," as he reached out a hand to clasp hers and draw her off the ship. "Come, he wants first to feed us and hear our story. And find out whether we know anything about the new lights. And he desires news of his kin. And I think he wants to study Canyalqua as well," he concluded somewhat breathlessly.

Alatáriel flung back her heavy cloak and paused for a moment, enjoying the sensation of this second new star's warmth. Before taking her first steps in the Hither Lands she took a deep breath of the rich breeze, savoring the promise of new plants and flowers to study and cherish. As she set out into the city with Teleporno and the still-voluble Círdan, the swans wheeled above their heads, cried out with a single voice, and fanned out across the blue sky.

Chapter End Notes

I subscribe to the version of Galadriel and Celeborn's backstory that Tolkien introduced at the end of his life.

Table of Contents | Leave a Comment