Kin No More by Ellie

“Get him out of here!” the prince screamed as he slashed wide, decapitating two orcs in one fluid movement. Black blood sprayed over him and those around him. Amidst coughing and spitting out a mouthful of the vile substance, he commanded, “Lord Huoro, go with them and see my cousin to safety.”

“My prince,” the lord protested wiping sweat and blood from his eyes where a long gash split his forehead. “King Ingwë entrusted me with your safety. He told me not to leave your side.”

“And I am ordering you to stay with King Arafinwë and not leave his side! I am hale, he is not.” Ingil’s tone of voice brooked no protest. “Help his guard see him safely back to camp. I will come find you when the battle is over.”

Sighing resignedly, Huoro acquiesced with a salute. “Yes, my prince. May the Valar protect you.”

“And you too, my friend, you, too.” The prince inclined his head with a respectful nod, then raised his sword and charged back into the fray.

Motioning to the remnants of Arafinwë’s guard, Huoro watched as two of them lifted their king to his feet while the others formed a protective circle around him. Then he led the retreat as they cut through the melee toward safety.

The desperate minutes seemed like hours as they slashed and hacked their way out of the battle to the edge of the forest. None made the escape unscathed, but they did not stop even after the trees well covered their whereabouts.

“Head deeper into the wood!” Huoro called behind him as he sliced branches out of the way in a poor attempt at hewing an easier path which did not leave branches to snag on arrows still embedded in flesh as they passed.

“Lord Huoro, you are leaving a very obvious trail that even a child could follow,” Lord Sanarondo snarled through gritted teeth from his position supporting Arafinwë’s left shoulder. “Perhaps you should just leave the branches be and we will navigate around them as best we can.”

“And you are leaving a trail of blood that any blind orc could track, Sanarondo,” Lord Guilin mocked from his vantage as rearguard. “So keep your teeth together unless you have something more useful to offer. Huoro leads us as best he can, considering we do not know for certain in which direction camp lies from here. The battle raged deep within enemy territory when we left it.”

“Lord Sanarondo, that leg looks bad. Do you want me to take over for you for a while so you can rest it?” Calmon asked coming up beside Sanarondo.

“No, I am fine,” Sanarondo answered irritably, waving the classically-featured Noldo away. “I have been looking after Arafinwë since he was 20. I am not about to stop now.”

“Your wounds allow you greater freedom of movement, Calmon,” Guilin said. “I need you back here with Séro and me.”

Sanarondo muttered a few choice Telerin explicatives under his breath as he shifted the half-unconscious Arafinwë’s weight a bit, then limped on, scowling and hissing in muted protest and pain.

There was little discussion after that except as was necessary to find their way through the wood. The shadows of the forest deepened as the hours past noon fled before the approaching night. Still they seldom stopped moving; allowing only a few brief halts to stabilize arrows in wounds with what cloth from mantles was left to them after the long morning’s fighting. By the time darkness swallowed the trees, their progress had slowed to a weary crawl due to pain and loss of blood. Huoro’s hacking of branches steadily grew sloppy and sparse, missing more than he struck when he even bothered to strike at them anymore.

Suddenly, Huoro raised his sword from the rut it gouged dragging in the ground behind him. Lifting his left hand, he called the others to a halt.

The others tensed, raising their weapons as best they could despite their injuries, sensing what he had sensed as well.

They were not alone.

“We mean you no harm,” Huoro called in Sindarin to the trees around him.

“That remains to be seen,” came the heavily accented contemptuous reply from somewhere to his right. “You carelessly cut our trees and bring your war upon us.”

Huoro remained motionless. “We fled battle with wounded,” he responded carefully. “We beg your aide for elven kin from across the sea.”

“We could shoot you in the dark, your eyes are so bright,” the voice answered somewhat mockingly. “But we will lend you aid, Lachend.”

The speaker came forth, a nér garbed in strange armor shaded in odd hues of grey and brown which seemed to catch the shadows and obscure the light. His braided raven dark hair and tall broad-shouldered frame spoke clearly of Noldorin lineage, but his eyes were a dull grey, lacking the beauteous light of the Two Trees which it seemed they should have reflected.

“Sheathe your swords. You are among friends,” he said.

Fifteen other elves emerged from the surrounding foliage, clad as the speaker with dark or brown hair and similarly dull grey eyes.

Breathing a collective sigh of relief, Huoro and the weary guard relaxed their stance. In response, the other elves lowered their weapons as well.

“I am Síremardo.” The speaker bowed to them. “Welcome to Eyrn Dholen.”

“You have our gratitude, Síremardo. I am Lord Huoro.” Huoro bowed his greeting in turn.

Síremardo looked at him curiously. “You and the one your friends support in the middle of your group are Minyai, are you not?”

Huoro stared at him in surprise for a moment, whispering the ancient word to himself. Then he glanced back at Arafinwë’s slumped form, noting the blood-streaked golden hair that flowed from beneath his helm and smiled. “Yes. Yes, we are. We call ourselves the Vanyar now, but yes, we both are of the Minyai though his adar is of the Tatyai or Noldor and he claims a Noldorin title.”

“We know about the Noldor and they are not Tatyai to us any longer. The rest of you are Noldorin though?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“The Noldorin rulers and lords from across the sea are all gone now save a small few who rumor claims dwell far away on an island with Lord Círdan the Shipwright. Whom do you serve?”

Huoro regarded the nér shrewdly. “The king of the Noldor from across the sea.”

Síremardo crossed his arms, cocking his head haughtily and staring intently at Huoro and the guard. “And who would that be considering the sons of Finwë are all dead save the two or three grandsons who fled to Círdan?”

“Arafinwë Finwion yet lives and is rightful king of all the Noldor here and in Aman though Erenion Gil-galad rules the exiled Noldor in Ennorath.”

“Your king may rule the Noldor, but he does not rule the Tatyai!” Síremardo declared.

“Who rules the Tatyai?” Huoro asked carefully.

Síremardo motioned to his men who surrounded Arafinwë’s guard. “Let us assist you with your wounded, and we will take you to our healers and to meet our ruler.”

“Thank you,” Huoro nodded courteously. Then he and Guilin immediately moved to relieve Lord Sanarondo and the guardsman Ortírion who had borne Arafinwë thus far from the battle, but Síremardo and two of his men stopped them.

“Lord Huoro, allow us to aide you. You are all weary and wounded. Permit us to carry your friend for you,” Síremardo offered.

Huoro met Guilin’s steady determined gaze as they exchanged a barely perceptible shake of the head.

Smiling grimly, Huoro drew himself up to his full height which was greater than that of Síremardo. “We thank you for your kindness, friend Tatya, however, his cousin and I are close in friendship and he asked us personally to look after his kinsman. While any of us yet stand, our honor will not allow us to shirk or share that responsibility. Being honorable ellyn yourselves, I am certain that you understand our loyalty and obligation. I remember the great loyalty and strength of the Tatyai in Cuiviénen and you are clearly great sons of the Tatyai yourselves. Your assistance for the others would be most appreciated though.”

Sanarondo scowled as he released his hold on Arafinwë, but Guilin silenced any protest with a stern glare.

Síremardo smiled in awe and respect of Huoro, offering him a courteous bow. “It is good to meet one who remembers our kinship and our friendship from the Night when we all dwelt as friends side by side beneath the stars by the water.”

Huoro nodded to him as he and Guilin lifted Arafinwë, careful not to jostle the broken arrows still protruding from the king’s wounds.

After a few minutes, the group made ready to depart. “The way is easy from here and you will soon find nourishment and rest. Please follow me,” Síremardo said. And he led them deeper into the dark wood.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Stars struggled to peek through the thick canopy by the time they finally stopped. The gates of the walled city looming before them were tall, constructed of hewn trees. After a brief discussion with the watch, the gates silently parted, revealing tall buildings of wood and stone. Unlike the large stately buildings of the Noldor which were made of carven stone and heavily influenced by the teachings of the Valar, the Tatyarin buildings tended to blend as part of the forest –as much within it as they were of it. The subtly of their work in wood clearly echoed and indeed harmonized with the gifted craftsmanship of their Noldorin kin. Each Tatyarin building was a work of art unto itself as was every Noldorin building.

Síremardo led the weary travelers to a large house which served as both a place for healing and a place for guests in the settlement. As they moved through a long corridor with many rooms on either side, nissi and neri came forth to stare at the travelers, some taking two reluctant wounded Noldor at a time into separate rooms.

When Sanarondo parted their company to enter a room, he hissed over his shoulder to Huoro in Quenya, “Do not let these wild elves butcher and poison our lord with their primitive remedies. What my wife’s Telerin kin suffered at the hands of the Noldor will look like a common brawl compared to what I will do to you if any further harm comes to him.”

“Do not loose your venom on one whom the High King himself trusts with the life of his own son and heir!” Guilin warned back in the same language. “Your pain speaks for you too much. Be at peace, Sanarondo. See to your own healing and we will see to his.”

“I do not have to speak your tongue to know that he has some quarrel with you, Minya,” Síremardo commented raising an eyebrow at Huoro.

Huoro shrugged as much as one can while supporting half of the weight of an unconscious elf lord. “He has yet to learn that we are on the same side in matters which are of close concern to him.”

When two neri came forth to take Arafinwë, Huoro and Guilin promptly refused to turn him over to their care.

“Lord Huoro, be reasonable!” Síremardo pleaded. “Your friend is in need of aide. Let the healers help him.”

When they still hesitated, he gestured toward Arafinwë’s blood-stained body and bluntly asked, “Will his cousin forgive you if he dies because you failed to allow him the care he needs?”

“Will you allow us to remain in the room with him?” Guilin asked cautiously.

A dark-haired nér dressed in brown robes, apparently the healer in charge, conversed briefly with Síremardo.

“Of course you may remain. The room they will take you to is large enough for you two to be treated there as well.”

“Friend Minya,” Síremardo placed a reassuring hand on Huoro’s shoulder as he passed. “I believe that you, too, have yet to learn that we Tatyai are on your side as well.”

As they slowly made their way into the healing room, Síremardo remained by the door for a time, then whispered under his breath to the lead healer, though the others in the room heard it as well due to their superior hearing being so newly come from Aman. “That Minya has a head injury which has clearly affected his judgment. At least one among them doubts him. The other Minya is too dear to them to be merely the wounded kinsman of a friend. Learn what you can of them and report back.”

Chapter End Notes

If I screwed up anything on the use or explanation of archaic forms of words, my apologies to Fiondil. He tried his best!

Arafinwë – Finarfin

Ner/Neri – (Q) male elf(ves)

Nissi - (Q) female elves

Minya/Minyar/Minyai/-singular and plural and archaic plural of the “first” clan of elves which later became the Vanyar.

Tatya/Tatyar/Tatyai- singular and plural and archaic plural of the “second” clan of the elves, a large segment of which later became the Noldor.

Lachend – “flame eyes”, a term used by the Sindar to describe elves from Aman because the elves from Aman had piercingly bright eyes from having beheld the Two Trees.

Ellyn – (S) male elves

Ennorath – Middle-earth

Adar - father

Some hours later, the lead healer finally left Arafinwë’s side. While the healer washed his hands and arms in a bowl of warm water, he spoke over his shoulder to Huoro and Guilin.

“I pulled four arrows from your friend’s body and stitched many cuts. He is very fortunate that you were able to bring him to a healer.”

“Thank you for helping him,” Guilin replied, shifting his left arm in its sling. “And for helping us, too.”

The healer turned, drying his hands on a towel, then walked over to Guilin and began inspecting the lord’s bandaged shoulder and the stitches on his cheek and leg. “We were not properly introduced before for the need to see to your friend was too great. I am Curumaitë. What are your names?”

“I am Lord Guilin and the one dozing over there,” he nodded to Huoro’s sleeping form on the adjacent bed, “is Lord Huoro.”

“I have rarely had occasion to meet or speak with any of the Noldor, let alone anyone of the Minyai. It is strange to me to see how different you are and yet how similar we all still are. The exiled Noldor boasted of their superior intellect and that the strength of their bodies was greater than ours. I used to despise them for their haughtiness, but after examining you and your comrades, I must at least agree that you are healing must faster than I had anticipated. And I have treated enough elves to know how quickly one should recover from injuries.”

Guilin inhaled sharply in reply as Curumaitë expertly ran his fingers over other sensitive areas. “Not to worry,” the healer reassured. “The bones are bruised, but not broken. You will mend. I see that someone helped you bathe already. Fresh clothing will be brought to you in the morning.”

He arose and went to Huoro. Careful not to wake him, he examined the line of stitches across Huoro’s forehead and on his chest and hip. “I must say, Lord Guilin, that your armor of Valinor deflects much, but not everything. Your armor is not made after the manner of the dwarves like ours is. I noticed it was much lighter when I removed it from your friend over there. A Tatya would not have sustained injuries such as these,” he pointed to Huoro’s chest and hip injuries, “wearing our armor.”

He finished with Huoro who surprisingly still slept. Returning to Guilin’s side, he crossed his arms, staring down at him. “Your badly wounded friend over there may waken during the night. By what name is he known so I can alert the healer on duty?”

Guilin looked at him shrewdly, “I will be here should he awaken. I do not intend to sleep tonight.”

“You refused the pain draught we gave to Lord Huoro to stitch his wounds. You may yet wish for something to ease your pain. If you do then you may well be asleep when your friend wakens.”

“As I said, I do not intend to sleep tonight. And I do not think that Lord Huoro would have accepted the draught had he known how deeply he would sleep afterward.”

“Are you Eldai of Valinor more impervious to pain then are we? I heard your cries of agony when they stitched your wounds, Lord Guilin. I think not. As for Huoro, we would not have stitched his face so close to his eyes without him first taking the draught. My healers gave him little choice in the matter.”

Guilin scowled.

Curumaitë gestured toward Arafinwë. “Just who is this friend of yours that you are so protective of him? He obviously is of great importance to you – and to the enemy as well. Judging from the pattern of the wounds he received, I would say that the enemy specifically chose him as a target, perhaps desiring to incapacitate him so they could take him prisoner or so they could revel in his slow death. I have seen this before. Morgoth saves this for his most prized game.”

Guilin carefully schooled his expression trying to hide his surprise at this revelation of the wounding. “Healer, do not your friends matter to you? Would you not be willing to stay by a friend’s side to see to his health and safety and so that he might not awaken wounded and alone in a strange place? Such is my loyalty to my friends. Lord Ingoldo over there” –he carefully referred to Arafinwë by his mother-name –“is such a friend to me. He is also a warrior of great prowess. The enemy fears his sword and would like nothing more than to blunt its edges forever. My comrades and I do not intend to allow that to happen.”

Curumaitë considered Guilin for a while longer then asked, “Why do Noldorin lords answer to a lord of the Minyai?”

“The leader of the Vanyar saw that Lord Ingoldo was badly wounded and ordered us to see to his safety and commanded one of his trusted lords to help us get him back to camp.”

“This is not your camp.”

“No, “Guilin agreed, sighing in resignation. “It is not. However, Lord Ingoldo’s injuries have been treated skillfully and he now heals. I do not believe that we have completely failed in carrying out our orders.”

“The king of the Tatyai trusts in my skills to care for his wounded, including his own kin when they are in need. I do not think that the leader of the Minyai – would that be Ingwë? – should be disappointed in the care I have provided and will provide to one of his most valued warriors.” Curumaitë smiled proudly.

Guilin looked in wonder at the healer. “You personally serve the king of the Tatyar? What is his name? I only remember Finwë’s rule on the journey, but I was born in a forest along the way and not in Cuiviénen like my parents were.”

Curumaitë walked over to a table and began tidying the supplies. “The Bali chose Finwë to be the king of the Tatyai for the journey, however, his rule was contested by some who thought it should have gone to someone else. Finwë was a great leader, but he was proud and crafty and his wisdom could be clouded by personal interests. I heard how he put his own eldest son before the needs of his folk in Valinor, thereby earning his own death and causing the quarrelsome Noldor to rebel and go into exile with his sons as poor excuses for leaders and weak kings to guide them. Some of his line have acquitted themselves well, but still…Do they, too, not all lie dead and defeated, their folk scattered and huddling on an island waiting to be rescued by you and your armies from Valinor? Our king was equally gifted as Finwë, but less haughty and his wisdom more adamant toward the good of our folk. He has not forsaken us, nor we him. And he yet stands while how many generations of Finwë’s line rot in the earth –if they even received a decent burial?”

Guilin remained silent and thoughtful for a time, then said, “The leader of the Vanyar forces is High King Ingwë’s son Prince Ingil. And I hope that he will not be disappointed.”

Curumaitë handed Guilin a cup and filled it with water. “I shall endeavor to earn his appreciation for my skills as my own king appreciates them.

“This is plain water. If you intend to stay awake, then I want you to drink the contents of this pitcher. You have lost much blood and need to replenish it.” He placed the pitcher on a small table beside Guilin’s bed. “I am going to check on your other comrades. If I do not return to check on you shortly, then someone else will. If you need anything, call loudly and someone will be along presently.”

With a self-satisfied smirk, he patted Guilin on his good shoulder and left him alone with his comrades and his thoughts.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A few hours after sunrise the next morning, Arafinwë finally roused. A newly dressed Guilin, garbed in clothes of the muted shades favored by the Tatyar, met Curumaitë at Arafinwë’s side.

“My lord, be still. Do not try to speak,” Guilin said as he placed two fingers over Arafinwë’s mouth when Arafinwë turned his head toward him. “Be at peace, my friend. We are safe.”

Arafinwë stared at Guilin questioningly as he tried to shake the oppressive fingers from his mouth.

“Be still. Please, be still,” Guilin soothed. “We are not at our camp, but we are some place safe. Do you understand?”

Arafinwë nodded and Guilin moved his hand away from his king’s face.

“You were grievously wounded in the battle and Prince Ingil ordered Lord Huoro from his personal guard to accompany us in leading you to safety. Séro, Ortírion, Calmon, and Sanarondo are here are well. These good folk found us and have seen to our wounds.”

He gestured to Curumaitë and the other healers in the room –Arafinwë silently following with his eyes. “They are of the Tatyar and, though they no longer call the Noldor brethren and do not hold the Noldorin lords as liege nor in high regard, they have helped us in our need.” Guilin paused and smiled reassuringly at Arafinwë’s suddenly concerned expression. “I told them who you are, Lord Ingoldo, and they hold mighty warriors in the same high regard as do we. Curumaitë here is their finest healer and has seen to your wounds personally. He even said that Morgoth’s servants must have singled out you specifically as someone to be taken down or captured, given the wounds you received. Apparently Morgoth fears your sword.” Guilin chuckled good-naturedly. “Who ever would have expected that?”

Arafinwë nodded in grateful acknowledgement to Guilin. “Who ever would have thought that indeed?” he quietly rasped, reaching out to grasp Guilin’s nearest hand. “Thank you my friend.”

“Lord Ingoldo,” Curumaitë called and Arafinwë hesitantly turned to meet his gaze. “I removed four arrows from you last evening. I need to change your bandages and then I want you to try drinking a bit before I give you something for your pain. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Arafinwë whispered. “Thank you.”

He lay quiet and still, occasionally stiffening and grimacing beneath the healer’s skilled hands. When Curumaitë started on the third bandage on his torso, Arafinwë suddenly turned toward Guilin, reaching out and grasping his shirt in panic.

“Does Prince Ingil know what has become of us?” he demanded.

Guilin took the king’s hand in his, gripping it reassuringly as he grimly shook his head. “No, my friend, he does not. No one knows where we are. We were well behind enemy lines when the High Prince ordered us to see you to safety. None of us escaped without injury. We wandered under Huoro’s guidance until these Tatyar –Tatyai as they refer to themselves –found us. We are deep in the forest in their settlement, safe behind well-guarded walls. Fëanáro would have delighted in talking to these folk, given the interesting manner of their speech.”

Curumaitë looked up from dabbing at the exposed wound. “I notice that you refer to Fëanor as neither prince nor king. Why is that? Was he not king when he died? Or did you acknowledge Fingolfin as king instead?”

Guilin drew himself up straighter, holding his friend’s hand to his chest. “Actually, I held neither as my liege for they both abandoned Valinor. I took Arafinwë, the wisest of Finwë’s sons for my king, as did all of us who stayed behind in Valinor.”

“It would be proper to name Fëanáro and Nolofinwë each with the title of king,” Arafinwë whispered in admonishment.

The healer scoffed in contempt. “You are a lord of the Noldor and you do not even know how to properly name your kings. As I told you before, Lord Guilin, the Tatyai have only had one king and have maintained our loyalty to him since we broke off from Finwë’s misguided following. Do you wonder at all why we do not acknowledge the Noldorin king as our own king when you yourselves are unclear as to who your kings are or were?”

Anger flared in Guilin’s eyes and Arafinwë twisted, hissing in pain as the healer resumed his ministrations much less gently than before.

Curumaitë stopped mid-swipe over the reddened, bloody stitches beneath his hand. “I am so very sorry, Ingoldo. I did not mean to hurt you.” He hurriedly applied a fresh cloth to stop the bleeding. “I have heard very little to my liking about the Noldor since their arrival in Ennorath. I did not mean to take it out on you.”

Breathing heavily, Arafinwë settled back, squeezing Guilin’s hand tightly.

“Your comrades have been asking after you, Ingoldo. I will tell them that you have awoken. Is there anything else that you wish for me to tell them?” Curumaitë quietly asked.

“Yes,” Arafinwë panted. “Tell them… tell them that I am most grateful to them for their help and that their liege will honor them for their courage when I tell him what they have done.”

“You have the ear of the king of the Noldor?” Curumaitë dubiously asked in surprise.

“I do.”

“Good. Then when you return to your king, tell him to leave us in peace and keep the war away from our forest.”

“In all honesty,” Arafinwë commented, his breath coming easier now. “I do not think that the King of the Noldor knew of your settlement here. If it were within his power to keep the war away from you, I believe he would. However, Morgoth drew us into engagement in these lands, not the Valar nor Prince Ingil’s army. Perhaps, Morgoth knows you are here and seeks to rid himself of all of those who oppose him, no matter what kinship they claim?”

“Perhaps,” Curumaitë conceded. “Perhaps…”

When he finished changing the last of the bandages, he said “You are healing well, Lord Ingoldo, much more quickly than I would have anticipated. Living so close to the Belain has served you well – physically at least.”

Arafinwë smiled. “Thank you. If you should ever choose to come to Valinor, I am certain that living close to the Belain will serve you well, too.”

“I never intend to leave here, but if I should, I guess we will have to see how well it serves me.”

A small cup of broth and another of pain draught later, Arafinwë wearily settled himself to sleep, Guilin still sitting by his side.

“My king looks forward to speaking with you and your comrades when you are well enough,” Curumaitë commented.

“Thank you. I look forward to that meeting as well. By what name is your king known? I do not recall hearing the name of the leader of those who turned back and did not follow King Finwë to Aman.”

Curumaitë drew himself up proudly as he replied. “King Sulwë and his family rule the Tatyai.”

“Sulwë,” Arafinwë muttered to himself drowsily in Quenya as the potion took hold of him. “Sulwë…but atar said he was dead…”

Chapter End Notes

Eldai – archaic plural of Eldar

Belain - Valar

Atar – (Q) father

When everyone was sufficiently healed, the small band from Valinor found themselves inside an elaborately-carved wooden hall. Tapestries depicting scenes from the forest and Cuiviénen alternated with windows lining either side of the long walk to the throne. A large crowd of well-dressed elves filled the hall, obviously the lords and ladies of the Tatyar. The expressions on their fair faces suggested curiosity more than contempt.

In spite of the seemingly welcoming air of the hall, Arafinwë’s unarmed warriors surrounded him, with Huoro walking a few steps ahead just behind the armed guards who led the way. When the guards parted at the front of the hall to take their places in easy call of the king and queen, Arafinwë and his retinue halted as much out of courtesy to their hosts as out of shock at what they now saw. For it seemed to the elves of Valinor as if King Finwë miraculously had returned from the grave! Tall and broad of shoulder, King Sulwë bore flowing raven-dark hair, a high and thoughtful brow, and startling blue-grey eyes (though less bright) – all just like Finwë’s. His nose and chin seemed smaller and more rounded than Finwë’s though, spoiling the likeness.

Arrayed about the thrones stood several tall, dark-haired neri sporting warrior braids secured with ornate circlets of silver, clearly all closely akin to the king and queen who stood in greeting. At the king’s right hand was the healer Curumaitë smiling brightly and adorned in finery as the others though his circlet was larger and more ornate. With the exception of Curumaitë and a few others who bore strong likeness to the queen, the rest of the neri could easily have been sons of Fëanáro or Nolofinwë.

Staring in dismay, those accompanying Arafinwë instinctively took a step closer to him, forming a protective circle though none dared speak. Huoro made a graceful courteous bow with the others a little more hesitantly and stiffly following suit.

The king nodded his acknowledgment, then he and the queen took their seats.

“Welcome to our lands,” he said cordially in a voice which closely echoed that of Nolofinwë. “I am King Sulwë and this is my wife Queen Liniel. These,” he gestured to the neri surrounding him, “are my sons and the sons of my sons. You have already met my heir Prince Curumaitë who saw to your wounds.”

Curumaitë inclined his head at the introduction, still smiling broadly.

“Lord Huoro and Lord Ingoldo,” the king said, “Long has it been since last I looked upon sons of the Minyai, though I understand that Lord Ingoldo is only half of that lineage. I hear that the Minyai now dwell at the feet of the Belain in Valinor. Have the Belain condoned the participation of the Minyai in the Noldor’s war against Morgoth?”

Huoro replied, ”The Val–…the Belain were the ones who called the Minyai and the remaining Noldor in Aman to arms in this war we now wage against Morgoth. They have also sent Maiar warriors to aid us and Eonwë herald of Manwë to lead our hosts.”

“I had heard rumor that there were Maiar among you, though none of us have seen them.” The king considered the group for a few moments then asked, “I trust that you have found your stay here pleasant and that your wounds trouble you little now?”

“Yes,” Huoro responded graciously. “We have received excellent care. Your healers are most skilled and Prince Curumaitë’s abilities rival those of the great healers of Valinor trained in the gardens of Lorien by the Belain.”

The king beamed proudly. “Forgive me for drawing comparisons between the Noldor and the Tatyai –I understand that you have heard many since your arrival and few of them favorable to the Noldor. I must ask you: would a high prince of the Noldor ever deign to serve strangers in need as my son has? I have heard little to suggest that any but perhaps one or two of the sons of Finwë would ever have considered such a thing.”

“There are many forms of hospitality which one can show to strangers,” Arafinwë carefully replied. “And there are many ways in which one can render aid to those in need of assistance. None of us know of all circumstances and events which have transpired here in Ennorath. I think that the true test of one’s character cannot be made until situations present themselves. I also have noted that the pride of the Noldor is something of which the Tatyai have not yet cleansed themselves. Perhaps in many ways, we are not so different after all.”

Sulwë smiled in concession. “Very true and well said, Lord Ingoldo. I see your tongue is of the Noldor even if your appearance is not.

“In Ennorath, it is necessary for all to work together to see to the survival of all our race. This does not appear to be the case in Valinor where the Minyai, the Noldor, and the Nelyai live in separate realms and in opposition to each other. At least the Noldor are in opposition to the others, being not of devout spirit like the Minyai. How many betrayals have the Noldor committed since they have been in Ennorath? And they were also disdainful toward the Nelyai whom they slew in order to steal from them. The sons of Finwë have exemplified this self-serving haughtiness since their arrival here with their further division of the Noldor by establishing independent realms, and their failure to help each other in need. Some stayed in hidden cities, only coming forth when it pleased them and others slew fellow elves trying to acquire ridiculous jewels – the works of Curufinwë’s hands! Obviously living in Valinor with the Belain has done the Noldor little good!”

Sulwë paused, glaring scornfully while Arafinwë and his people remained stonily silent. After a moment, he continued.

“The elves who stayed behind in Ennorath learned very quickly that all we know and all that we are must work to serve all our kind and not just individuals and not just the Tatyai. Perhaps if proud Finwë had learned this selflessness, he might have passed some measure of it on to his sons and to his people. Apparently that did not happen.”

Self-righteous smiles, scattered snickers, and comments of agreement spread throughout the hall. Even Sulwë’s sons looked on with triumphant expressions which matched his.

Arafinwë met the king’s eyes with his own unhumbled gaze. “Much of what you say is true. However, do not forget that when the Minyai, the Noldor, and the Nelyai, whom we call the Teleri, left Ennorath, it was in the hopes of finding a safer place to dwell and raise their children. They all learned much to their benefit and rose to greatness under the tutelage of the Belain which they would not have achieved here. Unfortuantely, Morgoth is of the Belain as well, and in the beginning he seemed fair and knowledgeable to those who eagerly wished to learn. It took a long time for any of us in Valinor – the Belain included– to see the subtle evil hidden in all that Morgoth did. He stirred up pride and distrust among our peoples without our realizing what was happening.”

Sighing, Arafinwë looked away for a few moments, then locked gazes with the king once again. “I do not deny that King Finwë let his focus slip away from his people in favor of his eldest son. If he had not done so, then many of the horrors the Noldor have seen and caused might never have come to pass. But then, Morgoth knew that King Finwë was all that held the Noldor together and slew him personally.

“Amidst our sorrow and our endeavors to understand the past and rebuild our society, those of us who remained behind in Valinor have reasoned through many possibilities and looked for many different places to lay blame –in addition to blaming ourselves for our own naivety, blindness, and gullibility. What if the Valar had stopped or even prevented the kinslaying at Alqualondë? What if King Ingwë and King Olwë had gone to King Finwë and tried to help him settle the disquiet arising among the Noldor? What if the Belain had understood the evil of Morgoth sooner and silenced it? What if Queen Miriel had chosen to live and not abandoned King Finwë to raise Fëanáro alone?”

Arafinwë paused, his gaze sweeping the neri surrounding the throne before settling on their king once again. In a softer voice which still carried throughout the utter stillness of the room, he added.

“What if King Finwë’s younger brother who understood the minds and hearts of the clan so well had remained by his older brother’s side to offer the support of his wise counsel and gifted speech, rather than instigating and leading the first division among the Tatyai?”

Even Arafinwë’s entourage looked at him wonderingly in the silence that followed.

King Sulwë regarded him shrewdly. “I did know our people well and I warned Finwë of what could befall our people leaving the home Eru made for us in favor of the home that the Belain made for us. For years I tried to tell him, but he would hear none of it. So, I used my knowledge of our people’s minds and hearts to persuade and save those I could and provide them a home here. Finwë as eldest disregarded me as he did his own younger sons in favor of his own eldest. Perhaps he had sympathy for the plight of the eldest over the annoyance of wiser younger brothers?”

Mumers of support for the Tatyai king arose from the crowd amidst derogatory comments about Lord Ingoldo and his ungrateful group. Sulwë raised his hand, quelling the crowd. When they were silent once again, he admonished Arafinwë.

“You venture much in your words, Lord Ingoldo. But then, much can be read into what is not said as it can into what is said. I have noticed here how none of your comrades in arms gainsay you – even the eloquent Lord Huoro. I noticed how they place themselves between you and everyone else in this hall as if unarmed they could defend you from us if we chose to attack. Curumaitë told me of their unusual concern for you, risking their lives to bear you from battle on the orders of Prince Ingil, staying by your side from the first moment that the border guards found you. I have to wonder why a Noldorin lord matters so much to the High Prince of the Minyai. Some of your comrades even chose to endure their injuries without relief from pain in order for one of them to remain awake or on guard near you at all times. Perhaps the most loyal and the best of the Noldor, the ones most like the Tatyai were the ones who stayed behind in Valinor and only now have returned to Ennorath?”

Arafinwë’s group stood their ground carefully impassive, their expressions neutral and unreadable, though their bodies remained taught and ready to strike if the need arose.

“Almost would I have believed the story your warriors told of loyal friendship and duty to kin – almost - had I not received a messenger this morning and that which accompanied him which still remains outside my gates even as we speak.”

The elves of Valinor looked about, shifting nervously, wary of this new development. Guilin and Sanarondo moved to take up closer defensive positions on either side of their liege.

The Tatyai king smiled knowingly at the uncertain expressions on his guests’ faces. “It would seem, Lord Ingoldo, that the Noldorin army from Valinor is missing its king. Apparently he was badly injured in a great battle eight days ago. The remnants of his personal guard: Lord Guilin, Lord Sanarondo, Lieutenant Séro, and guardsmen Ortírion and Calmon under the leadership of Ingil’s captain Lord Huoro were ordered to remove him to safety. When the battle ended – a decisive victory for the armies of Valinor, by the way – it was discovered that the king’s guard never made it back to camp. Apparently hundreds of the injured and battle weary volunteered to go in search of the Noldorin king, including many warriors of the Minyai. Thus Prince Ingil was forced to hand-pick the search parties in order to see that the injured actually stayed behind and saw to their wounds. The search at first proved fruitless, though those hunting were attacked frequently by fleeing bands of orcs, leading many to fear that the king had been taken by Morgoth. Now that the forest is sufficiently cleared of orcs and no king has been found, a small army numbering more than two hundred and fifty Noldor and Minyai finds itself camped outside my gates waiting for me to confirm the names of those warriors in my care.

“It would seem that while they are not missing a Lord Ingoldo, they are indeed missing one King Arafinwë.” Sulwë leaned forward in his throne, his right elbow propped on the arm, his chin resting on his raised fist. ”What shall I tell them?”

Arafinwë smiled warmly, sighing in great relief. “Tell them…tell them that King Arafinwë was enjoying the hospitality of his esteemed uncle, and, under the expert care of his cousin, expects to make a full recovery.”

Huoro added, “Perhaps you had better clarify things a bit for as far as they know, King Ingwë of the Vanyar is your uncle and Prince Ingil your cousin.”

“For that matter,” Sanarondo added matter-of-factly, “King Olwë of the Teleri is his father-in-law and all of Olwë’s sons are his brothers-in-law.”

“And it seems that all of these interesting relationships have managed at some point to put me in challenging circumstances which I have had to talk my way through with great difficulty and discomfort,” Arafinwë sighed long-sufferingly. “Thank your both for reminding me. I believe that King Sulwë’s messenger can explain any missing relationship information without my having to clarify it for him.”

Sulwë sat up straight, smiling. “In the interest of future politics, I am rather glad that we were good to you while you were here in our care. Perhaps you can take my greetings to King Ingwë and King Olwë whose folk we greatly miss, and put in a good word for the Tatyai?”

“My lord,” Arafinwë humbly replied. “I think that your people’s actions in caring for strangers from Valinor who were in desperate need speaks more on your behalf than anything I could say. However, I will gladly bear your greetings and say what I can in your favor. I sincerely hope that one day you and the Tatyai here will come to Valinor and join your kin across the sea. There is plenty of room for a realm of your own, if you do not wish to reunite with the Noldor under one king, though we would gladly welcome you and your wise counsel in Tirion.”

“King Arafinwë, I intentionally tried to rouse your anger and pride to see what kind of lord you are. I find that you are more like to a son of mine than a son of Finwë’s. It truly is a pity that your adar never lived to see the respect, loyalty, and love you command of the Noldor, the Minyai, and of other kings as well.” Then Sulwë smiled slyly. “I think he would have been proud of his son and rather irritated that a younger brother commanded what the favored eldest brother did not.”

Arafinwë only smiled in reply.

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Chapter End Notes

Minya/Minyar/Minyai - singular and plural and archaic plural of the “first” clan of elves which later became the Vanyar.

Tatya/Tatyar/Tatyai- singular and plural and archaic plural of the “second” clan of the elves, a large segment of which later became the Noldor.

Nelyai – archaic term for the “third” clan of elves part of which divided into the Teleri, the Sindar, etc.

Belain – (S) the Valar