Rise Again From Ashes by Independence1776

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Chapter 23

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Two years later, after I had performed several more concerts of the song cycle, I was finally able to visit Vola. Narmincë had no desire to visit, so I borrowed a horse and traveled with only Tirn as my companion. Surprisingly, even though I made an effort to camp rather than stay in inns where I may not be welcome, those I passed treated me civilly. Only a few occasions over the week and a half on the road were bad. Tirn’s presence kept them from doing much beyond muttering, though a trio followed me for two days. Those nights I spent at inns, preferring the presence of others. Most Eldar would not want blood shed on their property.

After spending the night with my nephew in Tirion-- I made no attempt to visit the rest of my extended family-- I headed into the traditional Eldarin territory. Things had changed, and yet they hadn’t. Farms were still worked, shops still patronized, people still lived there. Yet, as I drew closer to Alqualondë, I couldn’t help but notice less subtle changes-- there were walls around some estates. Guards were posted in the larger villages. And I knew better than to stop, for they did not look happy to see me. Cresting a small rise, I spotted the sprawling city of Alqualondë. It was larger, of course, but the older section didn’t appear terribly different. I only glanced at the quays, not wanting to remember. Reaching the crossroads at the bottom, I took the road that circumvented it. I would not dare to enter the city alone.

I reached Vola’s house three hours after the sun set. He opened the door when he heard my horse stop in front of it and rushed out, silver hair flashing in the moonlight. Tirn woofed quietly, but rapidly wagged his tail. I dismounted, and stood by the horse’s head, not sure of what to do with him. Vola smiled. “My daughter can take him to the stable. You come inside.”

I nodded and waited until his daughter appeared and led him off. I followed my friend into the brightly lit house and stared at the crowd of people: Vola’s family. I didn’t spot his parents, but wasn’t surprised. The rest of his family-- his brother, his son-in-law, his triplet grandchildren, and Vola’s wife-- were sitting around the large room, talking. All of them looked up at me when we walked in, and one of the triplets (the only boy) ran over. I picked him up and tossed him into the air, catching him. His identical twin sisters ran over as well, and I did the same to them. It broke the tension that was in the air, and I was handed a glass of water to quench my thirst. Tirn was taken off to the kitchen, where he had a bowl placed for him in a corner. Once he wandered back out to the living room-- where I had become engaged in a conversation about modern Telerin music and which person was the better composer-- he was surrounded by the triplets, who thankfully knew enough at their age to not pester him instead of pet. Mortal children would not have been so kind.

Shortly after midnight, Vola’s daughter’s family headed to their own house across the large garden. Tirn, at that point, was curled up in the corner, deeply asleep. The fire crackled in the fireplace, more for atmosphere than a need for light or heat. I leaned against the couch cushions, now holding a half-full glass of red wine, watching the light reflect off the liquid.

“Maglor?” Vola’s brother Orna said.

“Hmm?”

“I hope you do not mind sleeping on the couch. I am leaving in two days, but--”

“The couch is soft. Better I’m down here for Tirn’s sake, anyway.” I yawned, covering my mouth with my free hand. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“Then I guess we had better let you sleep. Sorry, Maglor, we are just excited,” Vola said from where he was playing a game of something similar to chess with his wife Calca.

I refrained from asking why they were excited about having a Fëanorion visit, and grabbed one of my bags. Calca banked the fire while I quickly washed myself and changed into sleeping attire. When I came out of the bathroom, the couch had been mostly made up into a bed. Orna had already disappeared upstairs, as had Calca. Vola was standing by the couch, a blanket in hand. I dropped my stuff at the foot of the couch, knowing I’d have to move it in the morning, and took the blanket from my friend.

“Thank you,” I said. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

He had a strange, faraway look in his eyes. “Yes, I do.” He nodded slightly and headed up the stairs, leaving me standing confused by the couch. I sighed, finished making the bed, and slipped underneath the covers. I gazed at the carvings on the wooden pillars separating the living room from the kitchen, trying to calm enough to sleep. They danced slightly in the light from the dim embers, and I fell into dreams populated by shadows and fire.

I woke up the next morning when Tirn nudged my face with his cold nose. I shot upright, wiping my cheek with a sleeve. I glared at him, but got out of bed. I leashed and led him to an out-of-the-way spot in the garden and waited in the chilly morning air, cold enough for my breath to show. We went back inside, just in time for me to turn my bed back into a couch. The bedding, along with my packs, went into a small hall closet. By the time I had dressed, Orna had started making a breakfast of pancakes. I set the table, determined not to be lazy. Vola only stumbled downstairs when they were ready, a fact which his brother and wife teased him over. I didn’t bother to hide my smirk-- that at least hadn’t changed.

After breakfast, Vola showed me around the small village. And it was small-- a little less than three hundred people lived there. As he showed me around, I started to relax. People greeted me the same way they greeted him: friendly. There were only a few hard stares, and the couple I had seen in Sirion over a decade ago grinned at me. I recognized Telerin building designs, Noldorin, and even a couple Sindarin and Vanyarin. The central courtyard had a large fountain in the middle of it, with the water deep enough for small children to swim in. The tavern was directly across from the small governmental building, which consisted of a large library and a smaller office that dealt with all the miscellany that needed the entire community’s attention. The streets were cobblestone, and the businesses lined the main road, though the residences were off the side roads. The surrounding areas was farmland, though the ocean could be seen in the distance. Alqualondë, even though it was only a couple hours away, due to the rise and fall of the land, could not be seen. That fact, for a reason I preferred not to dwell on, made me feel safer, as did the lack of any guards. Over lunch at the tavern, I asked Vola why.

“We do not need them. All of us know how to fight, but more importantly, we know when not to. We have little of value here, and do not anticipate trouble.”

“What Vola is not mentioning,” a Vanya seated nearby said. “Is that we’ve deliberately integrated anyone who wants to live here, Kinslayer or Slain, Amaneldi or Úmanyar, mixed kindred or pure: the divisions don’t matter. We do not let them drive a wedge here as they can elsewhere. We respect the differences; we do not force them.”

“And that helps?”

“It may. There are even a couple Avari who live here. With people from many of the divisions we suffer, it is hard to deny that we can live together and also harder to kill us.”

“Have there been threats?”

“At first, especially when we made it clear that Kinslayers were welcome. There were people who were planning on moving here and did not. It is not easy for anyone.”

“And then there are the visiting loremasters,” Vola said, rolling his eyes. “We are not a social experiment to study. I know we are not perfect here-- there is still prejudice-- but we are a damn sight better than parts of Valinor.”

I nodded continued eating, listening to the talk around me, flowing in and out of various tongues. I smiled to myself. Maybe this was what Valinor was supposed to be like.

* * * * *

Over the next two weeks, I started wandering about on my own, talking to various people, though I spent a lot of time in the library or with a couple of musicians. Vola gave me a Telerin flute, though the burn scar on my right hand made playing it difficult. And I swiftly realized that the musical code we had worked out with our friends was commonplace in the village. That, more than almost anything, made me feel welcome. So it was with a cold dash of reality that Vola invited me to visit Alqualondë. Before I could refuse, he produced a letter and handed it to me.

Vola,
You know I am unable to travel-- I am behind on a project and the deadline is in two weeks. If you and my son want to see me, come for lunch in a week. I can spare a couple hours then.
Nerdanel

My mouth dropped open. “She wants to see me?”

Vola grinned. “I knew that would get your attention. Yes, she does. I would not have asked her otherwise. You never have, have you?”

I shook my head, still staring at the scribbled note. “I’ll go, of course. But I’ll wear a cloak.”

“I’d wear one anyway-- it is probably going to rain tomorrow. There are clouds moving in from the sea.”

I rolled my eyes. “Then I’ll leave Tirn here. No sense in dragging a wet and muddy dog into her house.”

“Not to mention it would make you stand out. Tirn is rather distinctive here, Maglor. Our sheepdogs are smaller and colored differently. Besides, my grandchildren can play with him.”

I grinned. “True. And that way, he’ll be exhausted when we return.”

“We can leave immediately after breakfast. I need to see someone before we meet your mother-- it is about a performance I am giving at the winter solstice-- but it will not take long.”

* * * * *

True to his word, we left after breakfast, with it raining. I frowned past the hood of my waterproof cloak. The storm wouldn’t last long, but it would be a pain traveling during it. Once through the gate of Alqualondë, we boarded the horses for the day and headed into town. I kept my hood up, but given it was still sprinkling, so did everyone else. Knowing that my safety relied upon blending in, I paid little attention to the multicolored buildings around me, even when I realized where Vola was going. And I realized why he hadn’t told me where the person he needed to see was. We were going to the quays. Knowing I couldn’t protest without possibly revealing myself, I followed him, watching the crowd, many of whom were armed. But no one paid any attention to us, and I started to relax. I was safe enough under my cloak.

Vola stopped at a small booth near the plaza leading to the quays and switched to modern Telerin, rather than the Sindarin we’d been using. I studied at the crowd in the plaza, watching the children play in the rain, their parents watching them indulgently. Through the mass of people, I spotted a marble statue of a swan ship and tapped Vola on the shoulder. I pointed to it with my left hand, and he nodded, turning back to his conversation.

I made my way through the crowd to the statue, realizing as I grew closer exactly what it was. A memorial, for the words on it were the names of all those Teleri slain on that terrible night. The swan ship placed on top of the pedestal was a perfect replica of the ships, right down to the eyes of jet. The names were carved with precision, and the ones colored black must be those still in Mandos, for Vola’s name was not black, nor were some others I recognized. I circled the memorial, returning to the front, blank save for the words In Remembrance Of Those Slain, That It May Never Happen Again. I placed my hands on the words, running them over the carved Tengwar. I made my way back to Vola’s name and placed my right hand on it, tears forming, remembering that terrible night. Caught up in my memories, I did not recognize the soft, ringing scrape of steel on leather as something real until the point of the weapon pressed against my back.