Can No More Stay by Independence1776

Can No More Stay

Torchlight from the square outside flickered oddly on the walls. The hanging paintings were dull, no colors distinguishable in them, save for flashes now and then. Lalwen turned away from them; they were of no use now, no matter that they were uniformly of happier times, times that would be good to recall in the present moment: childhood, friends, family. Even Fëanáro appeared in a couple, one a copy of a formal portrait of Father's children and grandchildren and the second-- of him in his forge-- she’d painted herself.

She stared at the supplies scattered around her studio. What use was paint now that darkness had fallen across Aman? Father had been murdered; the Silmarils stolen; and most of the Noldor were leaving Aman for Middle-earth.

Maybe she should bring some supplies with? She knew better than to assume, unlike some half-relations, that the fight against Melk-- no, Morgoth-- would be over within days. Fëanáro was fey now, him and his sons, with that oath.

That had given her second thoughts, but she wouldn’t change her mind. Nolofinwë was traveling with his half-brother and she would not leave her favorite sibling.

What use was there for paint in Aman now? None. But a recording of the great deeds sure to follow? That was well worth bringing art supplies with, no matter how terrible the road or war would turn out to be.

A soft scuffing of slippers on the wood floor, as well as light from a lampstone brightening Lalwen’s studio from flickering dimness to near Treelight, were enough of a warning she was no longer alone. She smiled at Findis, who did not smile back.

“Must you leave? Mother is heartbroken that I am the only child of hers remaining.”

“I can no more stay here than I can keep the rivers in their banks. Findis, what will you do?”

“The darkness cannot last forever,” she said stoutly, sounding very much like their dead father and that hurt. “I trust in the Valar to provide a solution.”

“As do I, but we cannot wait for them.”

“You have been swayed by our half-brother.”

“There are few who haven’t. Fey he may be, but that does not make him entirely wrong.”

“Have some sense, Lalwen! Morgoth destroyed Aman. Yes, he had help this time-- but he enflamed the divisions in our society long before he met that spider-creature. He is an enemy far more wily than Fëanáro thinks. You are safer here.”

“Safe I may be, now that the criminals have fled. But what use am I here? There are artists aplenty who are remaining, Nerdanel among them. They can record the happenings as well as I can.”

“But that same logic applies to you leaving.”

“I know,” Lalwen said quietly, hardly to be heard over the bustle in the square outside. “But Nolofinwë is going. How can I remain behind knowing he is fighting? He’s my best friend, Findis. I can’t wait here while he avenges Father's murder. I can’t.”

Findis said, “I had to ask one last time.”

Lalwen stepped forward and embraced her sister. “Help Mother, Findis. We both know you have a better head for economics than everyone else in this family.”

“I plan on it,” Findis said, wrapping her arms around Lalwen, the lantern holding the lampstone pressing into her back.

Lalwen pulled away. “Why don’t you put that down and embrace me properly?”

A shaky smile played across Findis’ face and she did so. “Be careful, sister mine.”

An image of a sail, of an embrace on a dock, of a much more worn Findis, flashed through Lalwen’s mind. She lacked the context to make much sense of the foresight, but how much did she need to know that theirs would not be a swift reunion? “I will be. I promise.”