Loyalty by Melesta

Chapter 3

Turgon constructed Vinyamar, a seaside city in Himlad, sometime before F.A. 50. Aredhel dwelt there with him and Idril before moving to Gondolin in F.A. 116. At this time, Fingon is a crown prince and Lord of Dor-lómin. Maedhros and his brothers reside in East Beleriand.

Vinyamar, Himlad:

It does not take long after Fingon's arrival to Vinyamar to lapse into our old routine. Turgon traps him for days at his solemn council meetings but finally, we snatch some time alone. At the height of moonlight, we quietly steal a wineskin from the kitchens and slip outside the city gates on my horse. Riding down the beach carelessly with my brother, I suddenly feel so very young. Yet my mind is aware we are no longer youths in Valinor and we could not be further away from our parent's house in Tirion. Why are we sneaking in the middle of the night? Who is going to stop us?

But I leave all doubts aside and relish in the biting scent of sea salt. I lean in to rest my brow against his loose braids and imagine we are somewhere else, some other sea far away. He startles me as he breaks the soft silence and we slip off the horse. A hint of disappointment in his voice:

'Is this as far as we go on a horse? Boulders block the passage to the rest of the beach below. We are not even out of sight from the nearest guard tower.'

'Well Finno, not all of us are so lucky to traverse the forests of Hithlum.'

I instantly regret my hasty accusation. He halts to catch my gaze and I cannot help but recognize myself in the blue of his eyes. His kindness pierces me and I realize then that I have felt caged like a beast within the city walls. I had missed him so much. I had missed the feeling of freedom we both long for. But he does not reproach me.

'Then come back with me to Dor-lómin and traverse it yourself. My company does not lack arrows.'

'And hunt what? Orcs?'

'Beloved nésa, that is the beauty of Beleriand. There are always more orcs to hunt.'

I refuse to admit how appealing that offer sounds. So I resort to mockery. 'You only want me there to hold your forth while you run away to Himring for your winter love retreats.'

'I would invite you to join me but game along the Marches might disappoint, especially during winter. Alas, not all Fëanorians can speak to beasts.' He plays my game but does not yield. 'Besides, I could use more skilled bows. Lead a part of the company under your command if you so wish. I am not jealous.'

'Sounds too tempting. But I cannot turn my back on Turno, not right now.' I state honestly and resign. He remains silent for too long and then resignation settles on his features as well.

'So you have made your mind to follow him to his new city? Oh, please Aredhel! Father and I are not blind nor deaf. He has recruited every decent builder outside of Doriath. Worry not, I will not stand in his way. Nor yours, I have not the right.'

'You think I am sacrificing myself.'

'I think not. Loyalty, I know.'

'Always. Idril is no longer a child even if Turno pretends otherwise. I will not sit and watch her merely survive. She is most capable for leadership among us all and if there is anything I can teach her now, it is the least I can do.'

'She has much to learn from you. But she will not always need you. Or any of us for that matter. And thereafter what?'

'Then, let us hope we live to see dear háno. There is much forest in the East. And no lack of friends of old*.’

He snorts and understanding settles on his shoulders. We remain silent thereafter, content that everything important has been shared already.

Chapter End Notes

*From the Silmarillion, "Of Maeglin":
'Then Aredhel departed from Gondolin, and Turgon’s heart was heavy at her going.
But when she came to the Ford of Brithiach in the River Sirion she said to her companions: ‘Turn now south and not north, for I will not ride to Hithlum; my heart desires rather to find the sons of Fëanor, my friends of old.’