Bard Rising by Rhapsody

Who would have known that here, at the end of a road long travelled, I would open this work again, having thought that I had nothing left to entrust to parchment after the passing of so many years. Empty sheets mirror my existence, the last notes reflect a life long forgotten, drifting on the wind. Yet, I feel compelled to state why I started all of this. To whom might read it, my last audience whom I cannot explain all my choices and deeds done. One day I shall come to pass into Mandos, and that person shall find it. Mayhap they cease reading before the last deeds, matters I regret, but cannot make undone. Be brave! Read on! My life is one of hardship, filled with highs and lows, treason and trust, love and loss…

I recall starting this work, but first and foremost, I remember the moment of my creation. Suddenly, this music awoke my senses one by one; from a stir, to being enticed, an arpeggio so perfectly played that once my Feä was wound so tightly, I had to follow it in order to receive more. You see, it was just not the music our ears have grown used to, but music that pierced your soul, stripped you bare down to your core, and in such a manner that nothing would hinder you from understanding your sole purpose in life. Before understanding, Eru sung my feä into being and, during that split second, I was the Music. It was a marvellous experience; so pure it defined me into the smallest of details, a perfect sensation which I sought for the rest of my life. Yes. I do know that if only I would have balanced my thirst for this music with the understanding of my fate a bit more, matters could have turned out quite differently.

Now as I sit here, I can look back and see how my life made that unexpected turn. Yet I realise that it was written in the Ainulindalë, as Eru wanted it to be. It is difficult to find peace by this knowledge and, maybe, one day I will see what the allfather truly intended for me. It was so enchanting, to follow the lure of his promise, ultimately delivering me into the hands of my parents who, by their desire, deeply wished for a child. Encourage by the cords, I followed that silver thread - which I quickly discovered was mine - that slowly mingled with gold and copper. At that moment I knew I was unique, and in the storm of longing, so strong that it nearly quenched me, I held onto my music filled fëa as it joined its bodily hroa. Magnificence trapped. It would be years later that I would master my body well enough to use it as an instrument.

Often did I crave to relive that moment again; the supreme moment in which I felt carried upon cords and voices at first. Only later to find my first home in my mother’s womb. She confined me, tried to still me so that she could create her own vision of me. Their own intimate dance nearly crushed the remnants of the notes that thrummed through my veins. I held onto it, never to let go throughout my long life. My mother was not alone in her ambition. Soon she sullied me into a dream as she carried me. The fire of my father was strong and reminded me of the first moment the Music touched me. I could not help but to yield to his power, even then. Later in my youth, both would scrutinise me, claiming that I took after each of them the most. Even then, both wanted to fulfil their wishes and desires through me, unaware of Eru’s touch, although my father was not completely unaware of it.

During my waking moments, I heard and felt my father often: he pressed his hands inquiringly on my mother’s belly as if he could not wait for that moment that I would be born. His voice had a pleasant timbre, soothing, and later he told me how he enjoyed these moments of being in contact with me. At the same time, I also knew, while I bounced towards his hands in my eagerness to meet him, that there was an absolute certainty that he would protect me for the rest of my life. His hands were more gentle than many would have thought, and my mother’s endurance to bring me into life taught me an important lesson: pain is part of our lives, it can either bring us the utmost joy or the most profound loss.

I knew that I hurt her when I came into Arda. Her cries worried many as most considered the second child to be born more easily than the first. Some said that I could not part from her, that I had sensed my father’s impetuous nature. If only they knew… Not that I think many would have cared, regarding the reasons I wanted to be born that swiftly, or even known, I wonder, what was my main reason. It was to hear that voice who recited lore to me, and to come to know the person who hummed the first lullabies that reached my tiny ears. In my haste, I caused ruptures, weakened my mother for many years after that. I loved both sirens equally, but the Music I knew. As for the Lore…I did not. I craved it, longed for it, so much so that I let my voice ring aloud for anyone to hear.

My father did not have to think long about naming me. Kanafinwë was a name many immediately agreed upon. However, my mother’s gentle nature saw the beauty in my cries for knowledge and named me Macaläure. Those two names are in the past now, and in the present day, I sometimes have to remember the names my brothers gave me on these shores.

For such is my fate in living memory. I can only pass on the lore of the Noldor, in the form of the Noldolantë which I have done in the past. Yet my own personal story remains untold, and I do not think another person wants to read this journal. Still, I feel that I must entrust my deepest thoughts to parchment. The ink on these pages will convey the memories and experiences of the exiled one, for my name is Maglor, Son of Fëanor, the last son that has not surrendered to the everlasting dark. This is my tale...

Sometimes, once Laurelin starts to wax, when I wander upon the roads amidst our people, I often find myself smiling at the sounds of the birds from afar. Their high-pitched voices bring forth memories of holidays spent with father and my brothers, near the beach or in the cold north. How is it possible that, despite our forced stay here, (for none had wished for this banishment to happen), I already start to miss Formenos? It is not that I rejoice in leaving it behind us, given the reason why we set out in the first place. This, against our father’s wish and, even though our grandfather convinced most of us to leave, there is still gnawing doubt inside me. It forces me to wonder if we can actually leave him alone in our dwelling, this soon after Melkor’s threatening visit.

Yet, we have lived many years here, for we often spent years up in the cold north, forging friendships, and prowling rich hunting grounds for either animal or gems. For many of us, this has been a welcome change whereas, others – including me – miss the courtly buzz and easily acquired entertainment. I know for certain that I shall rejoice in the fact that the summons for father, coming from the Valar, feels like a new start for us all. That we can shake off this gloom that enshrouded the reason for this exile. Mayhap that is the reason why I started this journal. This morning, when I awoke, it came to me as flighty thought, perhaps that chronicling this new start needed to be recorded. Or was it, perhaps, that I needed to write it down in order to believe that my father was given another chance? It was a strange thing, especially since I never gave thought of making notes of my life before this day, not even when Manwë’s messenger arrived a week ago. Was it a foreboding of Irmo, or shall this be my only time that I will entrust these personal thoughts to parchment? Right now, I cannot tell. However, I gave into this urge and found an unused scroll.

Aye, the birds...They must have started this unordered musing, bringing back those memories of a carefree youth. And, not only that! Perhaps it is the shrill sounds of their sweet voices that come so very close to the delightful cries of my young twin brothers who, at their turn, would be chased down the beach by the ever-energetic Turkafinwë, many years past? The three of them explored many types of woodland in the south, and living here in this stone wasteland is sometimes hard for them. Those three have strong bonds. The twins most often teased my younger brother who – depending on his mood – could either turn into the fiercest of creatures, or would stomp off disgruntled. Of course, how often was it that the wild creatures were the target of the little ones’ aim, and they more than once sought out Turko for help? There is a certain understanding between them. None of us were surprised that Turkafinwë became a hunter in Oromë’s following and, when he returned, he would teach his little brothers all he knew or had learnt during his own apprentice ship.

Nelyafinwë, on the other hand, seemed to thrive well in my father’s shadow, even during this exile. I know that often eyes were turned upon him, and that father would see to it himself to school my eldest brothers. However, both often said to the other that my brother could live in more freedom than my father ever could. Ever since grandfather Finwë proudly announced the birth of his son, Feänáro, many eyes were on him: an unnecessary burden for a child so young...a child that appeared to be born shrouded in the mystery of his mother’s demise. This knowledge freed Nelyafinwë, but we were not used to remain idle when it came down to our studies, and my big brother was often found in grandfather’s study, seeking out new scrolls.
Once he studied them all, he petitioned to gain access to the collection of the Valar, harbouring a special interest in the wars they pertained to. I often wondered why Nelyo would seek delight in researching strategy and, to some degree, court politics. After all, none expected him to become our leader; not in the peace we knew back then, when the feud between my father and uncle, Nolofinwë, had not caused this riff between our houses. Later, he showed me the way to the same collections, telling me of what I could find or simply assuming that I would delight to read all as well.

Soon we established a name amongst the families in Formenos. Wherever a scroll could be found, the brothers Kanafinwë and Nelyafinwë would appear. At first, we laughed about this, but as the months passed, we rejoiced in this common interest that gave us many pleasant hours to spend with our grandfather, Finwë. In turn, he gladly answered our abundant questions. Not all the time we lived here was filled with dark moments, or left us feeling deprived of our much-envied social status. We all learnt how to put our skills to good use, and used the messengers to remain in touch, albeit barely, with the rest of our people and mentors.

Grandfather Finwë seemed most content with this arrangement, appearing to me that he used the time with us to somehow compensate for the many years he spent with his second family. It was not that we loathed or shunned them, nay, even more so our friendships with our cousins have always been that of a glad nature. It was just that we knew that we should not show any favour for one of our uncles, to spare us the ire of our father. Yet, nearly every month, Turko passed on a note of our cousin, Irissë, in which he elaborately writes about the comings and goings in Formenos. Nelyo insisted on keeping those letters that Irissë returned and, yes, many of us guessed about the why. Turko the most. I knew that my brother wished to keep track of the Tirion society, only because he entrusted this to me. He simply did not want many to know of his intent to reclaim his position at High court, without any visible backlash. He wanted to hide his reasons for doing so, so that he could decern what could have fuelled the fight of our father with his second brother.

Moreover, peace it was. A family life was unequivocal, despite some family conflicts in the past, of which we all knew originated after our beloved grandfather decided to re-marry. Father does not speak of his pain often, only when he has visited the gardens of Lorien to commemorate the passing of his mother. Later, when I completed my apprenticeship, and became one of Irmo’s wardens, father asked me to accompany him. At that moment, I learnt the truth about his deepest pain, and why he strived hard to keep such a cruel emotion from us.

Often I wondered why a mother’s love - of which I knew could be endless - was taken away so suddenly. I shall speak of this later, when I am in a better frame of mind. The more my uncle pushed for the brotherly love they asked for, the more my father turned away from them. First, my father spoke in moderate compassion for their blindness, later in harsh and explicit language. This was a lesson for us all as we stood by helplessly: I have forgiven my brothers often for their mistakes; always finding a way to forgive them without retorting to them in a harsh manner.

Alas, if it was not for my mother, I could have spent hours pondering about the beauty of the two trees. However, since she had discovered my talent and gift for music, she often forced me to practise day in and out. There were moments when I’d rather seek out my father in the forge, to work on other projects besides the crafting of music and song. To me, it was a pleasure to observe how my father created his masterpieces, and to watch how he, as an artist in his own right, could work endlessly on the simplest of things with dedication. From ploughs to refined jewels, he made it all with equal passion. My opinion is that creation can be found anywhere, one not being more important than the other.

Kurufinwë was the most apt to follow father’s example. I recall how he once had stolen – or borrowed it as he put it – from Morifinwë. That day, I was assisting father in gem cutting when the little boy he was back then, strutted into the forge while his hands tried to hold up Morifinwë’s heavy tool belt. A sparkle gleamed in my brother’s eye, a glance that, later in my life, often served as a signal that Kurvo had set his mind on something. Father recognised it as well, and set himself to work on a smaller belt for his eager son. Later that evening, he informed my mother of his father-name, and Kurufinwë has never left my father’s side ever since.

Tyelpinquar, my little nephew, followed his father’s example in precise detail. He would sit in the corner, waiting for his father and my father to finish a project. One in which he hoped he would appease his grandsire one day, striving to match his skill and become better. Father often prided himself for playing such an important role in tutoring them both and, except for those two, I do not think any on Arda can rival him in his skill. In years past, many days were spent by some of my other brothers delighting in the search for gems and metal – or any kind of raw material that would form the very basis of their works. It was a welcomed task in which Kurufinwë most often led the others.

Morifinwë could often be found aiding my mother in pursuing her gifts in sculpting, especially since the day Kurvo entered the forge. Father saw to it that he shared his time equally with the both of them. However, whereas Kurufinwë insisted on spending time with his father in artisanship, Moryo also showed interest in our mother’s skill. Moreover, what easier task was there than to pose for her and her own apprentices? It was no surprise to us all that he met his lady during one of those sessions. My mother has locked away that statue until the day they choose to be married. So far, Moryo and she decided to postpone their courtship, under pressure from her father who was concerned by the consequences of our banishment. Moryo once told me that her father feared for her reputation becoming tarnished, and Moryo considered his love for her to be so strong that more years unwed would not change what is between them.

Such was our family life before they freed Melkor from his prison, and he again walked amongst us. Moryo’s mood had turned dark during our stay in this city, as if he mourned for his mother’s absence. I, who performed often for audiences, saw the change gradually. It was not his words, but his actions, that did speak so much louder. One day I pressed on being his brother, wanting to know what ailed him.

In hindsight, I think I could have seen it earlier what caused the rifts between our houses and our people. In my experiences in observing audiences, I could tell from their non-verbal communication if something was amiss. Where at first, many enjoyed the simple songs and plays I could present to them - whether as a solo artist or with an ensemble - later it became natural to see groups cluster, talking amongst themselves and, after that, certain factions did not return. At first, I did not understand why this happened, and faulted myself for sloppy artistry, until the day I overheard my grandfather, Finwë, and his heart brother, Ingwë, expressing their concern about Melkor’s influence. Manwë could not be persuaded, since he so blindly believed in his own brother’s redemption.

Now I can see what my grandfather and his brothers intended to do. Most of us were placed under the guidance of a Valar. For example, my brother, Turkafinwë, was placed under Oromë’s tutelage; an assignment my brother rejoiced in. I, on the other hand, often visited Irmo’s garden, where I sought the knowledge to understand my visions and dreams, seeking for a meaning and way to translate such a thing into verse and song. Vairë showed interest in my skills as well, and often I visited her in her halls. Here, she spoke to me with regards to how her looms shaped the fates, and how many could be influenced by the deeds of others. I marvelled at being allowed to see the tapestry of our house so far. All the unique colours and brightness stood out for me. Even so, some parts seemed less bright than the others. Something else caught my eye, and I will freely admit that my heart sang upon the thought of seeing her again.

As I look back now, while we journey south, it proved not to be enough. Melkor’s lies worked more than well on the disturbed family relations. Even though it was hardly to be noticed at first, our assignments as wardens was explained by many that, our own grandfather sought to supplant us with his grandsons from his second brood. The latter was a phrase father started to use increasingly as he - at mother’s insistence - still corresponded with his half brothers and sisters. I do believe, however, that we all underestimated the way society looked upon and, moreover, followed our behaviour as we tried to appease both our father and grandfather. At a certain point, we even started to believe the rumours as well, especially when Turkafinwë was hardly at home . What other reason could there possibly be then? Nelyo even intercepted gossip that Turko sought to overthrow even his eldest brother. A rumour we all knew to be false the moment we heard it.

There was naught we could do. After all, when it came out plainly that uncle Nolofinwë indeed thought that our father should know his place, the matters at court escalated, and we all forsook our studies to travel North with our father. Nevertheless, none could have expected or forseen what grandfather Finwë did.

Yet there was still an unresolved issue between my father and me. Later, when I spoke to my father about this visit, a shroud of gloom descended upon him. A few days later, this gloom transformed into an unrelenting fire in his eyes that my mother tried to assuage the best she could. When I later spoke of this to Vairë, the Valier decided, in her wisdom, that none of my brethren should visit her any longer. Still, even to this day, I can hear the soft clicking of the looms, the occasional whispers of her maidens that I have grown to love. They are there now, close to the city we are travelling to, after years of banishment from the court. These years away have been well spent, on matters of husbandry or swordsmanship for example, but my father and I have reached an understanding as to why I longed to visit Vairë’s halls. I know now that his mind is at peace, and before the summons came, my father told us, while we all sat at the dining table –grandfather included – that he would see to it that he would make amends with our mother. This surprised the Ambarussa the most, given their last memory of our mother. Yet Manwë’s message took precedence over this, but we all understood and gave over our support to him, no matter how vile we all considered the lies spread about us, before we went into this exile.

It was merely two days later when father rode off, his mood light and joyful. There was this glitter in his eyes that I have not seen since the evening I had confessed my infatuation with the elven maid in Vairë’s service. Today is different in the sense that the three of us are following our father, at the request of our grandfather, and Nelyo now leads us. Late this afternoon, we arrived safely in a small village, just north of Tirion, and only now I found a moment to sit down and write as to why we came here. Insecurities aplenty plagued us during this journey, one being how we would be received, since all our people know that we are living in banishment. Another being how father would react to all of this, once we caught up with him.

“Do you think they will welcome us?” I asked Nelyo, shortly before a familiar inn came into sight.

“I do believe that the summons that bade father to return, will also carry the well wishes for a speedy return. Perhaps for us as well,” Nelyo answered, “Or are you afraid that your beloved maiden might have chosen another?”

I admit that I tried very hard to push that thought aside for a long time. After all, there was never much time for me to express my affections for her. Then again, even if she would have chosen another, I am certain that my future wife would cross my path eventually. I have no deep wishes to be married and start a family. It is only Kurufinwë who was just alike our father, and became a doting father at a young age. Who is to tell when and how? Right now my life can take me to wherever it pleases me, and I am truly aware that, I will return invitations for performances, and visits will pour in. Just as my other brothers will experience the very same. Of course, this being said, there is nothing wrong with the fair maidens that grace the streets and houses in Formenos. Still, I feel ridiculous, but I do know that I am not the only one who is eager to return.

Turkafinwë’s smile was so broad as his horse pranced restlessly beneath him. When the summons came, father decided to go alone, and grandfather refused to go since the banishment still felt unjust to him. Father felt that he did not need to disturb the daily rhythm of the others, and simply set off, ignoring the protests of his third son. Once we gathered for the evening meal, grandfather’s demeanour had changed and asked all seven if they would follow their father south, partly realising that this banishment was a burden to us all. This and given the dangers Melkor could pose to his beloved son who had chosen to ride alone. Nelyo then glanced immediately into my direction, then to Moryo who shrugged and pointed his knife towards Turko. Thusly, we all decided that we three, Nelyo, Turko, and me, should follow our father.

We all know this route so very well, and Tirion is just behind those two hills ahead of us. However, even our horses deserve a rest and I could not help it, but a tune bubbled up – one I jotted down shortly before I started to write this - and before I knew it I hummed it as my eyes met Nelyo first. My eyes then looked to the energetic Turkafinwë who was eager to join the front in leading our caravan. Those few lords who volunteered to accompany us, rode their horses with great confidence, being alert to any sign of danger around them. It would only take a word, perhaps one sentence, that would release us from this eager knowing of what is to come once we return home. We all hoped for friends visiting us, once word spread regarding our return, and to find out how they have fared during our absence.

Questions as how our mother would fare, and for me, specifically, I asked myself how Indis would respond to the scroll grandfather entrusted to me alone. It is late in the evening now and Nelyo is deep asleep. I wonder how he will be in the morn...Will he rush to Taniquetil first, or if he dares to go that far to follow father to the ring of Doom?

The halls of the common room of the inn are quiet. I think that Turko still has not returned from the inspection of our horses. I pondered what Kurufinwë and his family would have done if he rode with us. Would they have refused to stay at this inn, eager to return to their homes shortly after our arrival? Not paying heed to father’s demands otherwise? I simply could not imagine that, no matter what his wife Maline would insist upon. As for dark Morifinwë, I cannot tell. Maybe he would have stayed at father’s side, or he would have sought out mother first, following the twins whom, of all of us, missed her most. Nevertheless, my brothers are not here, choosing instead to remain behind with grandfather at Formenos.

I know that I have enough time tomorrow to do as I please, unless father sends word that he needs me, once he hears we are this near. I am pleased to be so close to our home in Tirion, and I cannot help but to start planning my visit to my favoured taverns. Perhaps my friends shall be there. My packs carry a most prized flute. When I departed for the North, a friend of mine asked for this instrument on the eve we followed our father, making sure that our friendship would remain as steadfast as it had been back then.I am certain Ecthelion will appreciate such a gesture, and thoughts of renewing this long lasting friendship is another thing to which I look forward.

I do believe that when we meet, our father will understand our restlessness all too well. It must have been a tough decision to decide between the protection of his own father, and the wishes of his son. Nelyo did point this out to grandfather while we debated. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I can hear his rich baritone that always makes us all sit up suddenly, and alertness takes over as we wish no longer to be constrained by this maddening anticipation. He knows our hearts all too well and, today or tomorrow, he will forgive us for granting grandfather’s request. This still leaves me to describe the manner of our arrival here. Nelyo, being our leader for this journey, gave us that leave shortly before we would crest the last hill, and before we would rest here in this quiet town.

I can nearly imagine how we would arrive tomorrow, and how hard it shall be to keep our eagerness in check. Suddenly I remember the last time when we returned home, after a long absence, and before the lies of Melkor started to turn our lives upside down.

“All right, my most impatient son,” he addressed Turkafinwë lightly then, “why do you not race ahead and announce our arrival...Courteously,” He added dryly, and I remember wondering if Turko would have heard that last part as he raced off to take the first hill.

“Turkafinwë!” he then bellowed into my brother’s direction, and Huan immediately halted in his steps, “Can you see to it that we are not reprimanded again? I would rather not cause another incident like when the Ambarussa nearly ran down the first gate years ago. Your grandfather managed to smooth out that incident, but I do doubt if I would have such an influence!”

I cannot help it even now, but a chuckle escapes me as I recall how Turko looked at our father, followed by his rather visible struggle to control his answer. “Aye Atar! I will see to it that I will reach the gate first! Calmly!” he answered and with a big whoop, he raced after the scouts who would announce our arrival, followed by his hound.

“It will be good to return home and see our mother and kin again.” I recall telling Nelyo, earlier today with hope. I earned the broad smile of my brother who would indeed have raced with the others, if not so much depended on his return, and the health of our horses. It was a joyful return indeed, and there was a genuine feeling of hope that we could return to how things once were. There is one thing I am certain of, though...There are changes ahead of us, and I intend to make the most out of it!

He has extinguished all our hope and love like a candle. True darkness is not only around us, but now it also resides in our hearts. I am sitting here, trying to understand why, of all people, Melkor had to kill our grandfather. It is incomprehensible to me, even now, after those two days had passed, and I ask myself how we ever could deliver such news to our father. I wonder what task is beset on us now, with the trees gone, but I think father will not hear of anything except plans for revenge. All thoughts of reconciliation seem forgotten until maybe our mother will choose to stand at his side again. Hope was in my heart, since there is no other person that can soothe my father’s pain, and then it would be left to our mother who knows him so well.

Yet, I feel so compelled to write once more, here during my watch at this campsite. This need to write it down, word-for-word will hopefully serve as a memory for the difficult days ahead of us. It is nearly impossible to grasp that which we can’t see, and I suddenly realise that this journal, as I now will call it, shall help me remember what we have lost, will recover, and ultimately gain once we will return. Therefore, I shall recite this word for word, thought-by-thought, from memory, whether born in pain or bliss as of today.

Three days ago, our time had been spent in utmost joy and bliss as the festival on the hillside of Taniquetil was in full swing. We remained only one night at the inn and entered the city well-rested. Once there, we were informed that Father was still in council, but shortly before that, he made amends with my uncle, Nolofinwë. With this reconciliation, many of our people took this as a sign to accept Manwë’s invitation to come to his halls. Such a gesture had reached our abandoned homes as well, and we all took it as a benign gesture.

When we entered the city, we could hear much rejoicing, especially since father chose to do so openly. Nelyo told me that this way, father would have held the upper hand in what would eventually transpire between him and the Valar. He confided to me that, shortly before he left, our father had expressed the wish that we cast aside all doubt of one line wishing to supplant the other, especially now that we know for certain that Finwë favoured our house above the others. It was a clear signal to all that it was time for us to finally spend our lives in peace without any interference, and for our grandfather to heal most of our wounds, except that of our own father.

As was allowed by custom, we were all clothed in our normal garments, since most of our formal robes were still up North, but it mattered naught to us. It pleased our sire that we did so and none of our friends thought lesser of us. We were the last to arrive and could barely come closer to where our father and uncle stood. Perhaps this was for the best as our presence here was a distraction for our father. He most likely would have questioned us, right then, as to why we left Formenos. In hindsight, he would have been right.

Still those who recognised us stepped aside and we could come close enough to see what would happen next. Even though many grew silent, once my father faced his brother Nolofinwë once more, we all felt assured of what would follow next. We stood behind our father when he accepted Nolofinwë’s hand as a friendly gesture once more, openly before those who missed such a moment the day before.

It was our uncle who spoke first and firmly, saying, “As I promised, I do now. I release thee, and remember no grievance.”

I could have sworn that none dared to breathe again before my father would answer. He quietly accepted his brother’s hand, but said naught. For a moment they stood there, two mighty lords, and none dared to predict what would follow next. After Nelyo cleared his throat, our uncle said, “Half-brother in blood, full brother in heart, I will be. Thou shalt lead and I will follow. May no new grief divide us.”

“I hear thee,” answered Fëanáro, my father. “So be it.”

They were words of rejoicing, and once my father and brother embraced , many sighed in relief as my father said to all who would bear witness, “Now that this feud is healed, may the reunited houses of the Noldor bring forth the most merriment!’

With that, we were all excused to celebrate this great news with our friends, who welcomed us with ale, wine, and the understanding of friends upon Taniquetil. Ecthelion was most pleased with my gift and challenged me to a musical duel; a challenge with my standing reputation I could not ignore! It was a fine duel, flute against lyre – this, simply because Turko could not find my lap harp in his frantic search – and our enthusiastic bystanders joined us in song, following our lead in whatever ballad or drinking song we might choose. I will admit that I lost track of time, we all did, until someone screamed out in anguish when Telperion, who was waning in favour of the other, as the hour of mingling had passed, suddenly dimmed in front of our eyes.

At first, we could not comprehend that this was happening. I found myself opening and closing my eyes often, and asked one of my friends to pinch me, just in case I was dreaming . Once Laurelin’s light seemed to be absorbed by a creature so dark, we shouted out in horror and prepared to chase after this monster. I recalled that Irmo had once told me of the nature of time in this realm; it was an answer to if my father could ever live his life without enduring the pain of his mother’s death. This thought had come to me as a dream, and I tried to write it down at first, but once Irmo spoke to me, I could not do otherwise than to share this dream with him. The Valar compared it to the Music - the notes I knew all too well - that defined Time, which, at its turn, flows ever from the first note to the last chord of Era. At that moment, I fully understood what Irmo tried to tell me, and I now wonder if I should have taken his words more seriously.

Nelyo, pragmatic as ever, ordered torches to be brought and thusly we sought our father while the light finally failed. Turko immediately gathered all the strong hunters around him and sought out Oromë, immediately assuming there would be a chase.

Our procession soon grew as we set out, Nelyo led and Glorfindel – another childhood friend of ours - held the rear, encouraging many confused citizens as we walked on the slopes of Taniquetil. The darkness blinded us, but the silence was deafening. It was something I had never experienced; a world this dark, voices silenced at first. What else could we do? We were not accustomed to this. The answers we sought were up on Taniquetil, and I knew many turned for guidance as this sudden darkness disrupted our lives. All I have ever known in my life was the light of the trees, and even though we now had the fire of the torches to light our way, it was still very unsettling.

Yet we moved on; one followed the person before as closely as a pack of wolves. A detail that reminded me of grandfather Finwë’s stories on how they marched forth on the slopes of Taniquetil – for the second time – to Valinor. It seemed so unjust that here in this realm, where we should be free from this darkness, left me to wonder if father indeed had been right about Melkor’s nature. Often, we did discuss it. The fiercest amongst us simply pleaded to see his creation once more, when this malignant Valar sought out father in Formenos, Father showed him the door immediately, disgusted by even the suggestion that someone else, other than his own blood should see what he created. I saw them twice. The first time father allowed me to hold all three of them, and I felt empowered by its radiance. Nelyo and Kurvo often debated the actual effects of the jewels. They bantered about why some of us fared better after seeing the jewels, if we were shortly plagued before by colds or scratched hands or feet. None knew how my father created these refined jewels, but we all know that many wanted to claim them.

Just as I thought that peace returned amongst our followers and not many voices could be heard, a hurried messenger raced around the corner, and if it were not for Nelyo’s quick reaction, the rider surely would have crashed into our group. Yet the rider rode on as if the horse’s tail was set on fire, in the same direction we wanted to go; to our father and the throne of Manwë where we last saw him. It was at this time that the first rumours started to spread, I heard Ecthelion’s vehement reactions when it reached him, causing Nelyo to halt our group and commanded all attention to him. Before I felt uncertain what Nelyo had done the day before, but now he rode into the centre proudly and said:

“None of Finwë’s line is behind this! I have the sworn words of my cousins Findekáno and Findàrato. All that follow their lead have also foresworn their allegiance to us. Let this be told, for that is the same message my father Fëanàro will tell the mighty Valar. Turn to them for your answers, but do not blame our mighty house for something we obviously had no hand in!” Nelyo continued after a short pause, “Now! If you doubt my word still, feel free to leave us and remain as a thrall gnome under his malicious wings!”

Nelyo’s words shocked many, for had we not all heard of the days before the great Sundering? I wondered how many of us could have forgotten about the tales told by our parents and grandparents? For the truth might not have been spoken aloud, however this knowledge strengthened us in our firm beliefs that we had been lied to all along.

“Who is with us?” I said as I stepped forwards.

“Do we wish to hear the truth and nothing else?” Ecthelion joined me, and then turned around, searching for anyone who might challenge him.

“For Truth!”

These words did not tumble from our lips, but by another who emerged from the throng headed by Findekáno and Turukáno. As I stood on my toes, I spotted Írissë, Findárato, his brothers, and sister Artanis, and felt glad to see our generation forming one union. What better signal could we give than this?

“No more lies,” said Finderato as he clasped the arm of Nelyo, “even in this hour we shall stand united. There will be no more lies between us.”

Despite the uncertainty of this moment, I could sense the wave of relaxation as it passed through both groups, and I felt reassured that, if our grandfather was here, he would have been proud of what we had learnt and had put into practise, so shortly after our arrival. Suddenly, Huan’s mournful howl pierced through the air. Not long after that, we all heard a great cry of frustration that we, as Fëanáro’s sons, immediately recognised. I could not stand still any longer and ran to whence the sound came, not caring for any protocols I might break because of this. Moments later, I knew that at least my brothers followed as I neared the seat of the great council. There, the horse of the messenger stood with his limbs shaking from exhaustion. The messenger stood by the steed’s side, his head bent and shoulders shaking.

Relying on Turukáno or Írissë to take care of that poor creature, Nelyo and I rushed forwards, recalling that I had pushed aside some of the Valar as we made hasted to reach our father, who stood there: his fists clenched in anger. Uncle Nolofinwë stood beside him, shaking his head in disbelief. Tears coursed down his face and our younger uncle, Arafinwë, stood there like one of Mother’s statues.

“What has happened?” Nelyo demanded as he rushed towards our father. Suddenly there was silence as Tulkas turned around, his face grim and his eyes sparked with fire.

“Your grandfather has sent us a message that he received reports of the winds turning to icy cold, and that the cloud that loomed up north has thickened,” Arafinwë said almost automatically, his eyes filled with fear.

“My father would not send such reports if he fears for something. We must retreat to the North and defend our house there,” my father decided firmly.

“You cannot leave.” Manwë solemnly intervened, “For we will need you at council. You may send your eldest with a party instead.”

“No!”

“Fëanáro, you have heard how our children swore allegiance to the other. We will finish our council here first. I will not leave your side as your sworn brother. Our father will rejoice that all of his grandchildren will be with him, to strengthen him in this hour of need. When this is over, we shall join him as well!” Nolofinwë suggested.

“Nelyafinwë.” My father answered after giving it some thought, “Gather your brothers around you; your cousins as well.”

“Who shall aide you during this council?” Nelyo asked as both Findekáno and Finderato walked up to stand next to him on either side.

“My sworn brothers shall,” Fëanáro answered grimly, “this is an important matter for me, Nelyafinwë, and I know I can entrust you with this. You will have Kanafinwë, and in Formenos, Morifinwë, Kurufinwë, Pityafinwë, and Telufinwë at your side.” Father said resting his eyes upon us as he spoke our given names. “Once Turkafinwë returns, he can aide me in the more basic chores.”

Moreover, it was decided that we all should journey to Formenos to protect our grandfather. Írissë insisted on staying at Tirion, and Artanis said naught as she appeared to be in great distress. However, once I pressed her, she would not reveal it to me. Arakáno mocked her for such cowardness, and even though his father publically reprimanded him, Artanis said nothing, turned around in haste, and ascended the stairs that led to grandfather Finwë’s house, her head held high. We set out on this journey rather quickly, travelling light since not all our luggage had been unpacked from our previous one. Nevertheless, we knew that, up in the North, those who lived there would provide anything we would need. Our horses were rested well enough, so we raced back to our dear grandfather who loved us all in equal capacity. It was just that ever since the moment we left, I felt so cold and I blamed the sudden darkness. For some reason it was difficult to find our way as it felt that some other darkness obscured our sight, even an amount of torches bound together could not make us look further than the horse in front of us.

It was halfway through our journey, when two distraught messengers halted our party. I recognised the two riders, for our grandfather used them often to take letters to court, or to his wife, Indis. Their faces were covered by soot, their clothes tattered, and their skin bore dried up wounds. It was only after we offered them something to drink, did one dare to speak to us. Never before in my life had I seen such fright in a man’s eyes, and I could not say whether he was afraid of what was to come - and what may happen if he was to tell us his errand - or what he had left behind. We all sensed the burden of doom carried by this man, and once Turukáno saw to his wounds, he dared to speak.

“I have ridden forth, on the command of your acting Lord,” the messenger started.

“How is our grandfather?” Findárato immediately asked, eager to hear that our grandfather was in no grave danger.

“Your grandfather has… perished,” the messenger named Carnildo carefully answered, swallowing hard as he fought down his tears.

“Grandfather Mahtan?” I blurted, but knew at the same time that it would not have evoked such a reaction.

“Grandfather Finwë,” Nelyo replied instead, and his voice croaked at the last syllable. Still I cannot describe at best what happened after that. Suddenly all sound was muted and none, except for my brother and my cousins, swam in my vision. For all my life, I always heard the soft undertone of the Music, but now there was nothing as even in this score it was as if this fermata belonged there. Then the Music returned in a rich crescendo before I could hear the outcries again. Perhaps that explained the ominous feeling I had had since leaving Taniquetil. What was I to do now? Making it even worse, fear gained hold on my heart while my knees threatened to give way. A great pain, nay emptiness - a deep hurt - made me cry out, and I do not know whose arm wrapped around me at first. Was it Moryo or Pityo? Nay, they would not be here! They were at Formenos as well!

Yet the overtone carried a discord, or was I the one imagining this all just to concentrate on that alone, in order to avoid this realisation that someone that once was, no longer walked amongst us? I recall images of wildlife on a loom that were simply cut off because we felt the need to hunt them down to kill only for sustenance. Grandfather’s death seemed so… senseless to me. If his life could have been taken thusly, did that mean that anyone else could just take it as well? What about my brothers? Why did Carnildo not speak of them? I tried to reason my way out of this, attempted to make sense of by whom and for what reason our lives should be forfeit, and in what cycle. Others now clung onto me for guidance, now that Nelyo concentrated on Carnildo, whereas Turukáno kneeled down next to the other rider who just emerged from the pitch dark, as both were expected to do I suppose.

I still do not know how I did it, but I straightened my back and looked down at both my brothers who stood at my side. “We must send word to Turko, father, and our uncles.” Such strange words to say after a shock this deeply. “They must know.”

“What do we know Káno?” Arakáno asked, his voice more steady than I expected. I noticed my cousins looking at me as well.

“We shall get our answers. For you have not spoken about my brothers, Morifinwë, Kurufinwë, and the twins. Please tell me... are they unharmed?” I inquired with determination and I sensed how those close to me relaxed. I wondered where this hidden strength suddenly came from. Certainly. I had performed on stages and knew that, at such moments, I could convince my audience to believe every word I would utter. However, to me this was a most unwanted audience, let alone a performance I never could have imagined to write!

“I am not certain what to tell.” Carnildo cringed.

“We demand to know it! It is our birthright to know as well, is it not Nelyo? They are our cousins and our grandfather!” Aikanaro suddenly shouted and turned to the messenger. “You shall not lie to us and shall share with us everything you do know! I demand it!”

In tears, Carnildo began to relate. “The king was heavy with grief at the departure of your father. We think that a foreboding was upon him for, you see, he would not go from the house. Your brothers were quite irked by the idleness and silence of the day and, with permission, took their leave to ride towards the Green Hills. They looked northward, and we wondered about why they looked that way. Suddenly, we were aware that all was growing dim! The Light was failing!” At that moment, my hands start to shake. My brothers appeared to be safe!

He told of the darkness coming upon them, and how the blackness descended, like a cloud, and enveloped the house of Fëanàro. To them it was a sudden attack on the city, lead from the inside by Melkor. Without remorse, this evil, vile creature had killed all who had laid eyes upon him as he passed through the gate. It was that this messenger and his brother hid in the stables, just after our grandfather had given them a missive. The poor man called it the Horror of the Dark, yet they could not turn their gaze away and had to watch how Melkor demanded all the Jewels of our kindred. Our High King, Finwë of the Noldor, met this fallen Valar at the gate, and Melkor demand to see father’s most prized creations. Yet Finwë stood his ground and answered, “No other than our own kindred shall see and touch them. Such is the wish of my son, Fëanàro. Unless you have his written permission or him standing behind you, I shall not let you pass.”

For a moment the elf hung his head, and we all fought back our tears, tried to keep control of the pain and uncertainty that raged inside us all. After a brief pause, the man continued. “Then Melkor lifted his mace and smote him against the wall. There on the doorstep, Finwë managed to sit up on his knees and Melkor repeated the question again. Again, our High King repeated our answer. Then… Melkor brought down his mace…” Carnildo swallowed hard. “Again we heard the sound of great blows struck. Out of the dark cloud, we saw a sudden flame of fire, and then there was one piercing cry. Our horses reared and tried to break away. Some did so and they wildly fled away. We both lay upon our faces without strength; for suddenly the cloud came on, and for a while, we were blind. He must have stepped over your grandfather’s body for, as I found the courage to look up, your grandfather was already lifeless. We could not move, we could not do anything for the terror was in our hearts. Moments later, Melkor emerged once more, holding something so bright and screaming its anguish as Melkor held it. Rays of blinding light burst forth and, I swear, I am not lying when I say it burnt the Vala. As he screamed out, the same light also hit your grandfather’s body, so fierce it was that the corpse withered before our eyes. Only then, did I realise that your grandfather had not suffered long, for he must have died before Melkor could enter your home. Melkor broke the stronghold in his anger and then leaped forth into the night.”

I sat there, staring blindly into that same darkness Melkor had disappeared into. Our grandfather was murdered before the doors of our home, that which we built ourselves. The threshold we so often rushed over, the same door of which my father had intended to make a great show of it to carry my mother across the steps, once they had reconciled. Perhaps...nay I cannot guess now. It was Aikanaro who jumped up in his anger, and Moryo followed his example with a dark scowl. “This is a lie! This is just a lie and…”

“Sit down the both of you!” Nelyo admonished them. “I have known these two all of my life and I never caught them in a lie. What of our brothers?”

“Their horses panicked as well, and all were unseated. They came to us as fast as they could and helped us during our first hours in this panic. Morifinwë leads us for now.” Carnildo shook from emotion, but there was no lie in his eyes.

Nelyo sat there in silence for a few moments and then spoke. “I have decided that we shall send these two messengers to deliver the news. I will go with them, for I strongly feel that I must deliver these fell tidings in person. Yet, I feel the urge to see Formenos for myself, just as all of you. I do not think they will risk my wrath, if this has all been a lie, now, do you?” He ended and both the messengers confirmed it with a shaky ‘yes’.

“All of you will travel north. I do believe that my brother, Kanafinwë here, can lend me his pen, quill, and, wax so that I may write a message for our brothers, telling them where I will be. I do think that we will see the truth and will undertake the proper actions. Findárato! Findekáno! You are here on your father’s insistence. What say you? Will you seal the message with your authority as well?”

“Aye,” Findekáno started and Finderato finished, “we both agree that this is the best we can do, also on behalf of our grandfather.”

“Then release them and let them take their leave with me, after I have written this message.” Nelyo decided. He finished the letter two hours ago, and I am still not certain what to believe. My brother quizzed me about proper burial rites, and what I knew of the fate of the dead, since he knew I occasionally had visited Vairë’s halls. Yet, I could not tell him, nor recited what both Irmo and Vairë told me, and now I deeply regret not paying more attention. Instead, I tried to answer matters as best as I could. Nelyo insisted that I should take care of such a matter myself, and told me to leave the matters of temporary rulership in Kurufinwë and Morifinwë’s hands, although Nelyo thought that they should form a council of four, with Findárato and Findekáno. For that, he wrote a different message, expressing this wish, accompanied by a report of what happened before the darkening of the trees.

It is quiet now as I write these last words for today. Soon, I know Turukáno will relieve me from this watch, but I shall not sleep. Such respite will not come to claim me this night, for I have much to ponder after all that has happened.