Nightfall by Ithilwen

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Nightfall

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Chapter 4 – Nightfall

How long he lay there, eyes tightly shut, fingers clenching desperately into the ground, shaking in terror, Maitimo never knew for certain. Perhaps an eternity. He only knew that at some point his frantically racing heart gradually began to slow, and his fingers loosened their grip on the earth. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find that he could see, faintly but unmistakably, a few blades of grass sprouting from the soil. The horrible, smothering Unlight, and the terror that had traveled beneath it, was apparently gone. He pushed himself off the ground, and stood up.

The stars overhead were again luminous; only in the north could the Darkness still be seen, and as Maitimo watched, it gradually receded. When the last of the Unlight was finally gone, he turned his attention away from the sky and looked about in puzzlement. How far did I run? he wondered, for he saw no familiar landmarks; the scrub-covered hills he saw surrounding him, though, provided proof that he had to be somewhere north of Formenos. Using the stars as his guide, hand firmly gripping the pommel of his sword, he began to walk south.

As he walked, Maitimo eventually began to encounter other people, all appearing frightened and exhausted, their faces and hands flecked with dirt and leaves, their clothes ripped from snagging on branches and rocks; a few had been seriously injured in falls and collisions with unseen hard objects during their panicked flight from the city. Little Tyelpinquar had badly wrenched his ankle and could barely walk, and so Maitimo soon found himself carrying his frightened young nephew while he searched in vain for Curufinwë and Callótë. The faint sound of singing drifting on the breeze eventually caught the attention of Maitimo's small band of wanderers; following their ears lead them to a much larger group headed by Makalaurë and Tyelkormo. Tyelkormo, who had frequently hunted in the northern hills, knew exactly where they were. He had set up a makeshift infirmary for the injured under a rocky overhang, and had also sent out people to gather firewood for the purpose of lighting a signal fire on the summit of the tallest nearby hilltop. "We're about two leagues north of Formenos," he told his brother while they watched a healer wrap Tyelpinquar's swollen ankle in a makeshift bandage torn from a ruined shirt, "and in their current state, I don't think most of our people can walk that far. So rather than push everyone on towards Formenos, I thought it would be better to stop here and do something eye-catching to attract the attention of everyone who might still be wandering around in these hills. Our brother's voice is certainly loud, but even it only carries so far; that fire should be visible for a long way off, and right now I can't imagine any sight that would be more welcome to frightened people stumbling around in the dark. I'm sure they'll come to it quickly enough. And this is as good a place as any for our people to regroup; there's a small spring in the northern end of this hollow, and even a bit of shelter under the rocks for those who really need it. Later, after everyone has rested for a while and recovered from their fright, they can head back home. In the meantime, I think a few of us who are in the best shape should go back as quickly as possible, both to make sure that whatever it was that came into the city is really gone, and to bring back some supplies for the healers and carts to transport the wounded."

Maitimo nodded his head, impressed. "It's a good plan, little brother. Why don't you start organizing a scouting expedition; we'll head south when Carnil rises over that hilltop. That will give everyone in the scouting party a bit of time to recuperate, too, and with any luck Grandfather and the rest of our brothers might find their way here before we leave. People will feel much safer once Grandfather arrives, and he's certainly had experience in organizing people marching through the wilds in the dark!"

"I think you should stay here, Maitimo," Tyelkormo replied. "I'm stealthier than you are. And until Grandfather comes, leading our people is your responsibility. They need you here."

Maitimo shook his head in negation. "You may be the better hunter, little brother - but I'm the better fighter. I'm fairly sure there's nothing lurking about in Formenos now; whatever that strange cloud was, I saw it heading north - but all the same, I'm not letting you walk into that city with only a few of your huntsmen to protect you. Makalaurë can reassure our people better than I can, anyway - and right now, that's really all that's necessary. No more," he continued, raising his hand to forestall Tyelkormo's as-yet-unspoken protest. "You said it yourself, brother - right now, I'm in charge. Like it or not, I'm going with you."

By the time Carnil had climbed over the dark ridge, the remaining sons of Fëanáro had all come straggling into the sheltered valley, drawn (along with many others) by the light of the signal fire. As each missing brother made his appearance, the relief Maitimo felt was increasingly mixed with foreboding, for of his grandfather Finwë there still remained no sign. Grandfather is no coward; unlike us, he probably stood his ground instead of fleeing like a panicked hare being chased by Oromë's hounds, Maitimo told himself firmly. He's probably back at the palace right now, wondering where everyone else has fled, and a nice job I'm going to have explaining to him why we all reacted like frightened children instead of princes. Well, we'll deserve his censure, after running away because we were afraid of the dark! But try though he might, Maitimo could not rid himself of his misgivings; when the scouting party at last set forth, he joined it with a troubled heart.

Even in the relative darkness of the starlight the party made good time, for Tyelkormo knew the terrain well and was able to spot paths Maitimo and the others would have missed. They moved warily, alert for any signs of danger, but encountered nothing more menacing than a few hunting foxes. As they walked, the hills gradually became lower, less rugged, and more widely spaced. Finally, even Maitimo, who had had little time for idle exploration of the countryside, recognized where they were. The scouting party's pace picked up as they began to crest the last hill that stood between them and their home; when they reached the summit, they paused briefly to look at the city that stood below them.

Formenos seemed unchanged; the white stone buildings stood apparently untouched and the still-unfinished Tower of Finwë continued to soar heavenward. The streets were still and quiet; here and there, a flicker of light shone from a door or an open window in homes where an oil lamp remained lit or the hearthfire had not yet burned completely out. There was no sign of the terrible Unlight, and the sense of terror and palpable evil that they'd previously felt was absent. But as the scouting party carefully descended from the hilltop, Maitimo looked again towards the great tower he'd helped to create - and his heart suddenly froze. For red Carnil now rested directly over the tower's still-unfinished height, and for a brief, irrational moment it seemed to Maitimo as though the tower was lit by a beacon of blood. Stop it! It's just a star; nothing more, he said to himself as he forced his eyes away from the tower and resumed his descent. But though he knew his feelings were irrational, he nonetheless found himself dreading what they would find when they entered Formenos.

It was not until the scouting expedition actually entered the city proper and began cautiously exploring that they found the first signs of something amiss. Throughout the city, strands of a strange dark material were draped from the rooftops and hanging from the trees in the courtyards and gardens. Foul-smelling and sticky, in places the black ropes almost appeared to be woven into a crude net of sorts; moths, fireflies, and other small insects that had apparently blundered against the substance were stuck to its surface. Like a monstrous spiderweb, Maitimo thought as the party moved cautiously towards the city's heart, swords drawn, but no spider ever spun such filth as this. What was hiding inside that terrible cloud?

The horrible webbing became more abundant as they moved into the center of Formenos; to Maitimo's and Tyelkormo's disgust, the entire palace was thickly draped with it. They had to use their swords to hack their way into the courtyard, forced to cut dense mats of the filth down in order to advance without becoming entrapped, as though they were moving through the tangled undergrowth of some hideous wilderness. So intently were they concentrating on avoiding contact with the sticky ropes draped across the courtyard that they nearly missed the crumpled figure lying broken and discarded a mere few feet from the doorway to the palace hall.

The foreboding that had filled Maitimo's heart did nothing to lesson the sickening shock he felt at the sight of his grandfather's pale and motionless hröa. Although he was not the avid hunter his brother Tyelkormo was, he had witnessed the outcome of enough successful chases to recognize death when he encountered it. But the still, lifeless forms Maitimo had seen before had been those of animals; never had he seen an Elven hröa lying so empty and abandoned. And this was Aman, where the Valar had promised they would live in safety; surely such violent death as had stalked the Elves in the dark lands of their birth could never follow them here. "Grandfather?" he whispered as he knelt down and reached out to touch Finwë's face, which was blanketed under the sticky webbing. His flesh was cold, and as Maitimo's gentle touch brushed the webbing aside, Finwë's now-dulled eyes came into view, staring sightlessly up at the stars. "Varda made the stars, as a sign of her love and care for us," you used to say, Maitimo thought, his tears mercifully blurring the sight of those vacant grey eyes gazing beseechingly towards the heavens. Where was she, Grandfather, when you needed her protection? How could the Valar allow this to happen to you?

It took an effort of will to control his tears, but as he stared at his beloved grandfather's still form, Maitimo came to a painful realization. With his father absent and Finwë slain, he was the one the others would now look to for guidance, and he should not disgrace his grandfather's memory by indulging his grief now, for when had his grandfather ever allowed his private feelings to interfere with his duties towards his people? The time for weeping would come later; for now, there was work to do. "Go to the stables," he told his brother, whose own face was pale with shock, "and start harnessing the horses; we're going to need to take far more supplies back with us than we'd originally planned on." Straightening up again, he looked around the courtyard, half-buried in disgusting black webs. "No one is going to want to return here," he remarked quietly. "We'll need food enough for the journey back to Tirion, and a few empty carts to transport those who can't walk. The King is no longer wearing Father's circlet; I hope that merely means he returned it to its hold before he was struck down. I'll go look for the Silmarils, and remove this filth from the King's body, and then I'll come join you. We'll lay his hröa to rest properly once we're ready to leave."

Tyelkormo nodded silently, and turned to leave, signaling for the rest of the party to join him. As he started to depart, he tripped over something that lay hidden beneath the webs in the center of the courtyard: a heavy iron casket, lying empty and discarded on the ground, its sturdy lock broken. The very casket, Maitimo realized, that their father Fëanáro had long ago crafted to hold the beautiful circlet in which he'd set the Silmarils. The brilliant gems, like the Noldor's King, were gone.

The Light was lost from their world.

* * * * * * *

They buried Finwë's body at the foot of the half-completed tower Fëanáro had named for him, the only structure in Formenos which had remained untouched by the dirty webbing that blanketed the rest of the city. It will serve as a fitting monument to my grandfather; for like him, it is magnificent and imposing, soaring high over all, and also like him, it has reached its end before its time, Maitimo thought sadly as he completed the simple cairn over his grandfather's grave. Then, after one last look at their once-beautiful city, the scouting party turned to leave it forever.

When they reached the edge of Formenos, Maitimo halted the wagon he was driving; after handing the reins over to the startled huntsman sitting beside him, he jumped down from the wagon and untethered one of the spare horses they'd tied behind it. He mounted hurriedly, and rode over to Tyelkormo's wagon. "Tell Makalaurë I said to head directly to Tirion as quickly as possible. I'll tell the others you're coming, so they'll have aid ready when our people arrive."

"Maitimo, what do you think you're doing?" Tyelkormo replied. "You need to come back with us now; we'll send a messenger to Tirion later."

"Grandfather Finwë is dead; our father is King of the Noldor now. And the Silmarils, his Silmarils, have been stolen," Maitimo replied. "Do you really think that is news that should be delivered by a mere messenger, brother?"

After a moment, Tyelkormo slowly replied, "Perhaps not. But you're the eldest, and so you should stay here, Maitimo, to lead our people on the journey back. One of the rest of us should go instead."

"How do you think Father is going to take this news, Tyelkormo? Do you want to be the one who tells him how we all ran away in panic and left Grandfather alone to face whatever thing it was that slew him? Do you want to tell him that his father is dead, and that his beloved Silmarils are gone, too? Neither do I," Maitimo said after a long pause, during which Tyelkormo's silence spoke more loudly than any words could have. "And that's why I'm going. As you said, I'm the eldest of us - and that means there are some tasks that fall to me, and that I can't shirk no matter how badly I might wish to. I'll ride back as soon as I can, so take the most direct route possible; that way I'll be able to find you easily. Take care, little brother."

With that, Maitimo wheeled his horse about and sped away into the blackness, heading south for Taniquetil and Tirion, to bear news of the disaster to those whose ancient promises of safety and protection had proven in the end to be naught but empty words, and to his father Fëanáro, whose heart he would so soon shatter with his account of the loss of the first, last, and greatest lights in his father's life, his sire and his stones. It would be a long and wearing journey, Maitimo knew, following a bleak path lit only by the harsh, cold rays of Varda's cruelly mocking stars.

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Chapter End Notes

The names of the characters used in this story are all Quenya, and the meanings of nearly all of them can be found in the essay "The Shibboleth of Fëanor," published in The Peoples of Middle Earth (History of Middle Earth, vol. 12). When more than one name is listed for a character, the first name is the father-name, and the second is the mother-name. The Sindarin equivalents of these names are as follows:

Curufinwë Fëanáro - Fëanor
Nelyafinwë Maitimo (nicknamed Russandol) - Maedhros
Makalaurë - Maglor
Tyelkormo - Celegorm
Carnistir - Caranthir
Curufinwë Atarinkë - Curufin
Ambarussa - Amrod and Amras (Fëanor's twins share the same mother-name)
Findekáno - Fingon
Nolofinwë - Fingolfin
Tyelpinquar - Celebrimbor (from the essay "Of Dwarves and Men," The Peoples of Middle Earth (History of Middle Earth, vol. 12), p 318) (Tyelpo is a shortened form)

Maglor's and Curufin's wives are mentioned in the essay "Of Dwarves and Men," published in The Peoples of Middle Earth (History of Middle Earth, vol. 12). However, we are never told anything significant about them, other than that Curufin's wife remained behind in Aman when the Noldor rebelled; they are not even given any names. I have therefore had to choose appropriate names for them. The name Aurel means 'morning star,' and Callöté is Quenya for 'shining flower'. Thanks go to Artanis for suggesting these names.

Filit - Quenya for "little bird"; an affectionate nickname Maedhros has given to his brother Maglor.

Pityanárë - Quenya for "little flame"; and affectionate nickname Maedhros has given his brother Curufin.

Finwë's brother Aldwë is my invention; his name is derived from the Quenya root for tree (alda).

Constellation and Star names - In The Silmarillion, the festival Fëanor is summoned to is a harvest festival; the constellations and stars I have Maedhros spotting are ones that actually rise in the late evening in early September in the Northern Hemisphere. Their correct English names are as follows (Quenya names are in parentheses):

The Butterfly (Wilwarin) - Cassiopeia

The Netted Stars (Remmirath) - The Pleiades (a bright star cluster in Taurus).

Carnil - this red star is mentioned in The Silmarillion, but not specifically identified; I have associated the name with Aldebaran, the bright red star in Taurus which rises shortly after the Pleiades.

The Sickle of the Valar (Valacirca) - the Big Dipper (in Ursa Major); in The Silmarillion, Varda is said to have created this asterism as a symbol both of the Valar's challenge to Melkor and of his ultimate downfall.

The Fishhook - to my knowledge, Tolkien never gave this constellation a Quenya name, but anyone who is familiar with the constellation Perseus will understand why my Eldar refer to it by this name.

Maitimo being the messenger to the Valar - in The Silmarillion, we are told only that the tidings of Finwë's death and the theft of the Silmarils were brought to the Valar by "messengers from Formenos"; however, in the account given in Morgoth's Ring (The History of Middle Earth, vol. 10), Tolkien has the message being delivered by the sons of Fëanor, and it's Maedhros who does the speaking. I've chosen to adopt the idea of Maedhros as the messenger for obvious dramatic purposes, although the events in this tale unfold a bit differently than the ones recounted in Morgoth's Ring.

This story was first published on December 4, 2002.