Lighthouse - Váya Calacar by Lferion

Nerdanel stood on the new-raised cliff above the beach that was now a memorial, and watched the furious water dash against the rocks that stepped out into the bay. The slender tower at the end stood unbowed, unbroken, the lamp at it's pinnacle still shining. It was not that Ulmo, Osse, Uinen or any of their kin could not break it (it was, after all, Noldor-work, some of those stones shaped by her own hands) but that they chose not to, however high their fury. That lamp warned of the rocks submerged, sword-sharp: no more might perish on that strand.

But what of Indis, you ask. When Finwe went to Formenos, where did she go? What were her choices? Did Finwe declaring himself uncrowned by the decisions of the Valar uncrown her as well? The tales that have come down to us are all silent on that point -- indeed, they speak little of the wives and mothers, the daughters and aunts and princessess. What of Anaire, Earwen, Nerdanel? Findis and Faniel? They had the job of picking up the pieces, mending and making and holding things together in the darkness. Their work shines in what the tales do not tell.

Eärwen looked back at the shore from her small sailboat. She refused to look up at the ridiculous sun-bright cliffs that had been reasonable mountains not that long ago. (The sun-sparkle on the water was very pretty — the problem was not the new Sun and Moon.) What did the Valar think they were fencing out, with those walls? She preferred to think of welcoming in, helping people get safely home. Someone had been talking about lights in the towers, and she had thought of a light on the shore, marking the newly hazardous point, that no more ships be lost.

There were those who insisted that those married who did not join the Exile (for whatever reason) should -- must! -- repudiate their spouses, that parents condemn their children, children their parents, sisters and brothers their siblings. That the Exile meant they were sundered from Aman and all therein, whether kinslayers or not. They were not many, but they were loud. There were no Finweians by birth or marriage in their number, though Anaire's mother and uncle were, and others likewise. There were not so many left in Tirion: none that had not lost someone, even after Arafinwe and his remnant returned.

Anaire felt that attitude was doing Melkor's work for him; of a piece with the raising of the Pelori, that closing the Calacirya was even considered. They needed more light, not less. And even after the Moon and the Sun were achieved, light and warmth for everyone -- Avathar, Araman, Ennore, not just Aman -- there was more of light to be had, made, encouraged. When Earwen proposed the concept of lighthouses, and Nerdanel designed and built their structure, Anaire turned her attention to the lamps that would be needed. Perhaps the beams would not reach across Belegaer; still they would shine.

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