The Fall Of Doriath by gamil-zirak

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Estrangements

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ESTRANGEMENTS

THE FALL OF DORIATH

OHTATYERONISSI means the "Warrior Women"

Chapter Eight...
"ESTRANGEMENTS"

It was the eve of the Feanorrim's fateful march to war with Doriath and all was ready upon the hill of Amon Ereb. Celegorm looked up to the night sky and breathed in deeply of the cool fresh air. The velvet heavens seemed magnified to an immensity in their clearness, lit up with the dancing scintilla of a myriad of twinkling stars. For too long had the gloom of Autumn weather clouded its lofty beauty, yet tonight all was clear. It was a sign thought Celegorm. It was a good sign.

He turned to Maedhros whose shining eyes regarded him as he stood tall and dark in the half shadows of the camp.
"What is it?" Celegorm asked, a little perturbed by his brother's stare.

"I remember how you used to look up at the stars by the shores of Eldamar when you were young. You had the same look now as you did then, filled with innocent wonder."

Celegorm gave him a faint smile. "My wonder is still the same though I doubt the innocence."

Maedhros nodded and sighed. "Much has passed since those easy days in Aman. Yet the stars have remained unchanged and are now even as they were then. They have witnessed the long changes of the ages in silence, but what a tale they could tell if they could commune to us their lofty thoughts."

Now it was Celegorm's turn to stare at his brother. "What is this wistful mood that has come over you Russandol?" he asked.

A faint smile hardly to be seen in the dark came to Maedhros' face. "It is nothing," he replied. "Just a fair memory from a distant past, that is all."

He came forward now into the fullness of the starlight, an imposing shadow that morphed into his pleasant personage. "Are all the preparations complete?" he asked, dismissing the soft moment between them with a blunt query of war.

"They are," replied Celegorm. "All companies are in and at the ready. They only await your command to march forth."

"Good," said Maedhros as his eyes surveyed the grey southerly slopes that densely housed the soldiery of Feanor's people.

Celegorm followed his brother's gaze. The host of the Feanorrim was now fully gathered and there was an almost palpable tension in the air. An anticipation of purpose that was the battle readiness of the troops, fuelled by their steely ambition to retrieve the Silmaril of Feanor. Again Celegorm breathed deeply of the cool night air and discerned what it was...the deep breath before the plunge...the final prayer before the grave deed...a last wave of farewell made before an epic journey. He turned to his brother who now stood as if he were listening for some elusive night call. Maedhros felt it too.

"Our father would have been proud of his sons and people were he still alive to witness this night," said Celegorm.

Maedhros turned to him and nodded slowly. Yet he did not speak but continued to gaze at Celegorm; his keen grey eyes attempting perhaps to read what lay in his younger brother's heart. Celegorm turned away, a little confused and disconcerted. As far as he knew, all his brothers were of the same mind and purpose in this. Yet Maedhros' strange melancholy began to irk him somewhat, for there seemed to be a distant guilt in his elder brother's stare that maybe sought a similar sentiment in Celegorm's heart. But they could not waver now! Indeed, they needed Maedhros all the more for he was the true bastion of strength for the brothers and the Feanorrim.

Maedhros appeared to perceive his brother's discomfort and broke the uncomfortable silence that lay between them.
"Yes you are right Tyelcormo," he said softly. "Father would have been proud indeed to see us now." He put out a long arm and laid his good hand upon Celegorm's shoulder. "And we shall not disappoint him," he added with a faint smile.

Celegorm raised his eyes to his brother's and saw the melancholy in Maedhros' glance fade into a hardened starry glint whose expression was of commanding purpose. They stood a moment in that partial embrace and Celegorm's uncertainty was slowly quelled. His brother was still behind him with his full support. He felt a great relief for Maedhros was more than just a brother of equal responsibility in this matter. He was the head of the family and the father figure to all his people. Responsibilities and decisions were shared and debated amongst the princes, yet each always sought the final acceptance and blessing of Maedhros in all they did. For such was his nobility, dignity and understated majesty to them in their hearts. Even Finwe their grandfather had declared of old that had Maedhros been born beside the birth waters of Cuivienen, it would without a doubt have been he who were chosen to be king of the Noldor.

Great praise had that been from his grandsire, yet even Feanor his father had agreed with this sentiment. Curufin had easily been his favourite son, but in his heart of hearts it were Maedhros whom he respected the most. For Feanor discerned that the true inheritance of the strength, wisdom and power of the Noldor had passed to his firstborn son more keenly than any other child of that great people, and so appropriately named him the "Third Finwe" in honour of that sentiment. To him, Maedhros represented the true untarnished soul and ideal of the Noldorin people.
The gentle moment between them made all the difference to Celegorm. He had incited his brothers to war with grand rhetoric and great theatre, yet it was his elder brother's final gentle assurance that set his resolve beyond all doubt.

There came the sound of an approach and the brothers turned to the soldier who came towards them.
"Lord Nelyafinwe, your presence is required by your captains," he said after a curt salute.

Maedhros gave him a nod and turned to Celegorm. They looked at one another and a smile formed upon both their faces. As if words unspoken passed between them, they both nodded to each other and clasped hands. With that, Maedhros turned away and his tall imposing form receded into the shadows of the night. The messenger followed after him.

Celegorm watched after them a moment before turning towards the dark fortress walls. He made his way towards the gates and here and there, passed groups of warriors who sat by tents or stood around the yellow flames of their flickering fires. As he passed them by, they turned to salute him in the fashion of the Feanorrim. He paused by some and spoke with them as a captain querying his troops preparations, challenging their morale, their readiness and their resolve ere they went to war. Yet they did not disappoint him for all were resolute in their dire intent.

So Celegorm came to the broad road that rose from the plains below, winding its way up Amon Ereb to pass under the huge iron gates that barred entry to the fortress. A few shadowed figures walked upon its grey starlit track further down the hill, while up ahead it passed under the fortress gates.
Celegorm approached the entrance where strong flamelight cast a golden sheen of splayed illumination upon the threshold. Guarding the gates were many soldiers who stood stern and silent before the sturdy walls of the many windowed towers that hemmed the gates upon either side. Celegorm nodded in reply to their swift salutes as the gates were hauled open for him to pass within.

Guardroom windows studded the tunnel's walls, behind which came the murmur of conversation between others of the fortress guard. He soon came to the main courtyard that opened up wide before him. Here were many lords and ladies of the Feanorrim, stood or milling about the lamp-lit arcades, discussing in soft tones the events about to take place. Some turned to him, either beckoning or calling for him to join their discourse, yet Celegorm did not think to linger there. He felt a weariness creep upon him and a sullen mood that did not desire company. He continued on his way, smiling politely with a swift wave of his hand so as to ward off any chance for conversation. The second tunnel that led to the inner courtyard of the fortress loomed before him and he passed under its archway, and on through to the other side.

Here a few elvish lords engaged in deep conversation stood near the memorial stone that cast its long oblong shadow over the grey grass of the courtyard. He made his way swiftly to the steps of hewn stone that led to the second level of the fortress, and speedily passed up the stairs only to come across Amrod taking in the air upon the landing.

"How goes it with you Ambarussa?" he asked his brother.
The ensuing conversation spoke of the right to retire early in light of the long march ahead; the designated comforts of travelling princes and a parting shot that called for "Little Finwe" to find his way to bed.

He then parted ways with Amrod, smiling warmly as he thought of the brief moment of light jest they had just shared. His spirits rose a little as he made his way to his private quarters. The corridors and walkways in this part of the fortress were devoid of any guards as all had been dismissed so as to spend time with their loved ones before the grim dawn broke.

Celegorm passed down a long dimly lit corridor that was balustraded with an open view that looked eastward to Ossiriand and the Ered Luin. Oaken doors studded the corridor's walled right side that opened to the living quarters of the princes. He made his way to the very end of the walkway as his was the last door. Upon reaching the threshold, he turned the latch and was about to enter when he paused, and looked back down the way he came. Only a single lamp was set at the midway point of the long walkway, but the radiance of its low flame failed at the opposite ends of the corridor which were shrouded in shadow. He could not be sure, but he thought he discerned a slight movement from within the darkness at the corridor's entrance. He stood a moment peering intently back the way he had come yet saw nothing. He abruptly turned away, entered his room and closed the door behind him.

His quarters was large and spacious. On the walls were hung beautifully crafted tapestries, many depicting elves on horseback engaged in the hunt. Taking up a wide space was a great canopied bed of ash wood. Its suspended frame was intricately crafted with carven woodland animals. Rich fur coverlets and quilts were spread wide and draped over the bed's sides whose legs were in the form of carven hoofs. An oaken table decorated with tiny traceries and peppered with carven ornamentation was set at the room's centre. Surrounding it were leather clad chairs of exquisite make. The floor was covered in the furs and hides of woodland deer, the boar and the wild kine. There was a wide hearth in a corner, over which was housed a low burning fire of scented pine.

Celegorm went over to the yawning window that gave sight westward, and opened a pane letting in the cool night breeze. Beneath him sprawled the western half of the lower tiers of the fortress that were made up of half hidden walkways, hovering balconies and winding stairways that were all lined in shadow, save where the yellow flame of torches splayed their light upon the grey stone. Now and again an armoured guard would fleetingly walk into view, whose peeping armour shone from under a heavy cloak, and whose spear tip glinted in the wavering light. Celegorm turned away from the high view, lit a tall candle and placed its stand upon the table. Its flame flickered and shone weakly, barely illuminating its immediate surroundings, but it was enough for Celegorm.

He thought now to sit in the near dark and brood when he heard a sound. It came to him soft and almost imperceptible from outside his door. He stood stock still with eyes fixed upon the doorway. It was plain someone had followed him to his room in stealth, yet who could it be and why. Perhaps it were Amrod, jesting with him again. There was no time for thought as the door latch began to turn a fraction. Celegorm noiselessly pulled out a chair and sat directly facing the doorway and calmly waited for the intruder to reveal itself. The latch began to move again ever so slightly, rotating until it was loose. There was a pause before the door soundlessly widened, revealing a tall hooded silhouette.

A tense silence hung for a moment between the two and Celegorm was in doubt, for this plainly was not Amrod.

"Who are you?"he asked in a low voice.

The figure did not answer but entered his room and closed the door behind without turning. Celegorm waited for the intruder to speak but no word was forthcoming.

"Enough of your silence," he said with rising wrath. "I say again, who are you and why do you come here?"

"You know who I am and I have come to talk," came the reply. The voice was lower than a woman's wont, but a woman's all the same.

Celegorm eased back into his seat. "Our acquaintance may be one of the oldest I have known but that does not give you a free pass to do as you please. How I wish my doorwardens were still at their duty this night. Let me alone I tell you! I have no need for talk at this time."

The hooded stranger did not move. "Nevertheless, I have come to talk whether you would or no."

"Give me peace Ravenne!" cried Celegorm.

"Peace?" came her retort. "That word is strange coming from you whom of late has had only thoughts of war. Peace! Nay do not jest my lord."

There passed a tense moment between them as Celegorm's wrath rose against Ravenne's defiance. Yet it was the prince who first withdrew and let out a long sigh.

"Ravenne," he said wearily. "What do you want?" As he said this, he motioned for her to take a seat. Ravenne complied and sat down, removing her hood to reveal her rich mane of dark hair and her starkly beautiful face. She sat in silence, eyeing Celegorm with her keen grey eyes. "Well?" the prince muttered impatiently. "What do you want of me?"

Her keen stare softened to an expression of solemnity. "I come not as the Lady of the Ohtatyeronissi, but as your friend of old."

"Friend!" exclaimed Celegorm with genuine surprise. "It is long since you behaved in such a manner. Whatever you want of me must be great indeed if you are seeking to rekindle our ancient friendship."

Her eyes hardened slightly. "Perhaps," she said with a sigh. "Indeed there are grievances that lie between us, yet I am here to set all aside and begin anew. Do you not want that Tyelcormo?"

Now it was Celegorm's turn to stare in silence, studying her flawless face searchingly with his glinting eyes. "And why do you come now Ravenne?" he asked at last. "It has been long since we last spoke to one another, though I will grant that we were apart for much of that time. However, it has been some time since your return, yet all the while you have avoided me. Perhaps you were ashamed of your past deeds and therefore could not find the heart to face me. I would understand that. But now here you are, barging into my private chamber, seeking to set aside our old differences. I ask again Ravenne. Why now?!"

"Should that matter much?" she replied. "That I have come to you should be enough. It has not been easy, but I have spoken first and ended the deadlock that lies between us. Yet if it is any comfort to your pride then I will say this: I have come because I miss our friendship. I miss talking with you. I miss our hunting, our jesting, everything that we did together as old friends. I simply miss your company Tyelcormo?"

Celegorm looked at her with an expression devoid of feeling, cold and distant. "Very well," he answered. "And what do you want said between us? Should there be explanations or perhaps heartfelt apologies or even forgiveness. What Ravenne?"

Her gaze was steady, hardly flinching at his scorn. "I ask for all the above." she said softly.

Celegorm laughed bitterly. "You ask for much, lady of the Ohtatyeronissi. Too much! I can never forgive you for the choice you made in Nargothrond. Many times have I conjured the events of that day in my mind. How you turned your face from me in that hour! With that single gesture you erased the lifetime of friendship that stood between us. I meant nothing to you!

Yet I have often wondered why you returned to us here upon Amon Ereb. Then again you were never one to well endure the harshness of the wilderness, though it has ever been your way to make it seem that you are of tougher stock, Lady Feanariel of the "Warrior Women." But I know you well Ravenne... too well. Ever has your policy been to cling to the royal house of the Feanorrim, your lofty ambition being your chief goal. So you rose to a seat at council, gaining the high honour and prestige that came with the office. Yet what of your allegiance to the house that bestowed you your title? That mattered little to you as you repaid the Feanorrim's bestowed honour and trust with treason, and dismissed our age long friendship with the wanton toss of your head!

And so the kingdom of Nargothrond came to its end, but rather than braving the wilds of Beleriand in a life of deserved wandering, you shamelessly returned to the people you had readily abandoned.
I remember how you bowed low to Maitimo, pleading for his mercy and forgiveness. I would have laughed at your theatre had it not been so tragic! Yet you received the pardon you craved through Maitimo's well known good graces and here you are, honoured once again by the Feanorrim as if nothing happened. But know this daughter of Sailanambar. Everyone else may choose to forgive and forget the past, but not I! Your charm will not work on me whom you fooled the most. I perceive your real character at last and all your snide policies are now laid bare to me. I deem you realised this and that is why you could not face me, until now. But nothing has changed for me. I neither miss your friendship nor want it. That should be clear enough for you!"

Ravenne listened intently with grey eyes fixed upon Celegorm's as he castigated her, betraying nothing of her emotions. When he was done she remained where she sat, unmoving in the dim light. The yellow flame played upon her skin, beating a flickering pale shadow across her sharp features. Suddenly she turned away and rose from the table in a swift move, her darkly cloaked form blending easily with the surrounding gloom. Celegorm watched her with hard eyes that held a triumphant anger. His cold words had been aimed to hurt her, and he had succeeded to his great satisfaction.

His angry stare followed her to the great window where she leaned upon its sill, looking out from that high place. She then bowed her head and let out a long trembling sigh. Celegorm's smile was unpleasant, knowing his words had hit the mark. He leaned forward to pour himself some wine from the pitcher that sat at the centre of the table and took a long drink. He then placed his flagon down and turned to her bent form.

"Well what do you still want? We are done, do you hear?"

But Ravenne did not seem to hear him for her mind was far away from Amon Ereb, flying swiftly through the misty airs of memory in a bid to look back on all that had led to their present estrangement.

~oOo~ In the time after Feanor's commissioning of the Ohtatyeronissi, Ravenne had gathered all the women who were of a mind to join its company. These had to adhere to certain rules laid down by its stern leader. The Warrior Women could not be married or betrothed, though it were never said that one could not seek for love. Yet this was not encouraged, for to be part of the Ohtatyeronissi was to wilfully purge oneself of any distractions that might weaken one's pledge to the grim tasks of war. For the Warrior Women were to be treated as any warband in the army, ever training and patrolling and fighting at the front. There were few within the Feanorrim who questioned as to whether it were good that there should be elven women who constantly applied themselves to the arts of war, and more so when the other Noldorin houses finally came to Middle-earth, and voiced their concern when they learned the strange ways of their brethren. Indeed, no such companies were formed within the houses of Fingolfin and Finrod, and none of their women ever left their people to join with the Ohtatyeronissi. Yet when war arose in earnest in Beleriand, the deeds of the Warrior Women garnered great respect and honour by all the elves of the land.

 

After the Feanorrim removed from Hithlum to the lands in the east, Ravenne stationed the Ohtatyeronissi with Celegorm and Curufin by the Pass of Aglon. In all the long years of the siege, they ceaselessly patrolled the Ard Galen, fought in many affrays with the enemy and did deeds of surpassing valour in the Dagor Aglareb. In all that time, Ravenne and Celegorm maintained their close friendship, yet it remained so and nothing more, to her constant heartache. Ravenne's greatly enhanced standing and nobility among their people had done nothing to change Celegorm's stance towards her save that he treated her more formally than before, a thing that grieved her all the more.

Once in those long years did an old rival cross her path, for Aredhel, daughter of Fingolfin appeared in Aglon hoping to see Celegorm. Those two had been very close and had of old garnered many a whisper as to their relationship. Ravenne's heart lay in turmoil in the long year that Aredhel dwelt with them, yet fate had another path for Ar-Feiniel. Before Celegorm had returned from long hunting, she had set out on a journey that was instigated by Ravenne no less, who suggested to Aredhel the far trek to the lands beyond Himlad. Ravenne's heart had inwardly rejoiced at the subsequent turn of events as Celegorm and Aredhel were doomed never to meet with each other in Middle-earth again.

So the years drew to the end of the long siege and the peace that came with it. The Dagor Bragollach brought about a sudden end to the realm of Aglon and Himlad, and almost an end to the Ohtatyeronissi. For Ravenne and her warriors were fighting with the rear guard and were surrounded as they defended the walls of Aglon that barred the narrow valley from the enemy. It was Celegorm himself who came to their aid in that desperate hour with many riders at his back, and made a daring rescue that hardly had them flee with their lives. After long wandering they were finally harboured by their kin in Nargothrond.
In that short time together, Celegorm's mood changed somewhat towards Ravenne, for he became closer to her than ever before. Perhaps it were the effect her near death in battle had upon him that made him realise much that had been left unsaid and unexplored between them. Whatever the case may be, for the first time since she could remember, Ravenne had felt the stirring of real joy within her heart. She could finally sense the happiness for which she had long yearned in her endless sadness.

However, all had ended before it truly began as that was the time Celegorm had returned to Nargothrond with Luthien the daughter of Thingol. With his intentions known to all, bitterness filled her heart once again, yet this time it were tinged with a hard frost. She became wan and silent, ever brooding on Celegorm's betrayal, and the wrongs done to her heart. When Luthien fled from Nargothrond, this did nothing to ease her pain, and her mood towards Celegorm became cold and distant, seeing that he would forever set her aside for whatever might tickle his wondering fancy, while she ever held herself in readiness for him in foolish hope. Therefore when the people of Nargothrond were finally released from Celegorm and Curufin's dominion and ordered their banishment, Ravenne in utter bitterness of heart turned her face from him as he looked to her expectantly, thinking his friends might follow him into exile. She had made up her mind to be rid of the prince and the heartache he brought to her once and for all.

The years in Nargothrond had afterwards passed long and slow for Ravenne. However, though her mind moved on to other things, the thought of Celegorm still overshadowed her heart's happiness. Yet she maintained the Ohtatyeronissi under her ladyship and under the overlordship of Celebrimbor who now led the Feanorrim of Nargothrond. Thus it stood until the time of Turin and the destruction of Felagund's realm. Ravenne and her Warrior Women escaped the rout of the Battle of Tumhalad and fled southward until they reached the willow woods of Nan-Tathren. There they were joined by many other survivors and all were thereafter succoured by the Sindarin elves who dwelt there, and whose lord was Estannen whom afterwards removed to Doriath with his numerous people.
The Fell Winter came down heavily upon the elves in the wilderness but Estannen and his people gave great aid to the Noldor and saved the lives of many who would have perished of cold and grief. Yet the late spring finally came, to the welcome of all and the leaders of the refugees came together for common council.

They stood upon a tall hill that overlooked a wide valley where the Sirion flowed wide and swollen from the snows of the long winter. The greenery of the landscape were tinged here and there with the colourless grey pall of winter, that had yet to fade fully from the land. Hard by was the "Willow Vale" of Nan-Tathren, a wood made up of willow trees whose ranks began in the heights of the hills and marched down vast rolling slopes to the northern shoreline of the River Narog that fed into the Sirion at the wood's beginning. The willows were enormous and very ancient with twisted hoary barks, long slender branches and huge winding fibrous roots that spread wide across the woodland floor. Their leaves were tinged with hues of yellow and grey through which peeped flowers of orange and purple. Their was a buzzing of bees in the air.

The three leaders of the exiled elves were Failo who led elves of the house of Finrod. There also stood Celebrimbor who was lord of the Feanorrim of Nargothrond and there was the Lady Feanariel of the Ohtatyeronissi. These three represented a great part of the survivors of Nargothrond who now dwelt in the wild, ever fearful of pursuit by the usurpers of their realm. Now that the dreadful winter had passed, they sought for a more secure refuge for their peoples.

Failo stood looking northward with hands shielding his straining elven sight from the glare of the bright morning sun. The blue hills he looked to in the far distance were of the Andram, from which flowed a thin ribbon of river from under the mighty Gates of Sirion.

Celebrimbor followed his gaze. "What do you look for Failo?" he asked.

The Noldorin lord turned to Celebrimbor. "I look to where we may find solace in this hard world," he replied with a sigh. "Of late the hidden land of Felagund's kinsman has been foremost in my mind."

"You mean that of Doriath where Thingol and Melian dwell," said Celebrimbor.

"Indeed," replied Failo. "Though the Girdle is a barrier to all who roam outside that realm's woods, a promise of aid was nevertheless given by its king to all those in dire need. Well here we are, homeless and weathered by grief in the wild. The need is ours for Thingol's promise to fulfil. For what other realm in all of Beleriand is now truly safe from the power of Morgoth? Surely if we were to journey there and seek entry, we should not be denied."

"Perhaps," replied Celebrimbor but Failo saw that his face had darkened.

"I see that Doriath is not to your liking," he observed. "Yet where else would you have us go? The lands are perilous enough for realms unprotected by powerful enchantments. Surely you must see that Doriath is the safest haven for any elf at this time."

"Indeed Thingol's realm would be safest... but not for all elves," replied Celebrimbor. "Perhaps you forget that though I have severed ties with my kin, I am still a son of the house of Feanaro.
In Nargothrond I found the strength to wrench myself free from the fell doom that hovers over my house. However, to go to Doriath where a very Silmaril now resides would be to tempt the graces of fate that have so far shielded me from the rash thought that has afflicted those who uttered the Oath, and the peoples who still follow them. Would I have the strength of will to stand at ease before Thingol as he wore the great jewel in his halls? Could I trust myself to set aside all the dark conniving thoughts that should surely arise in my mind for my grandsire's work? What terrible deeds might I be moved to commit ere day's ending? Think of bold theft and malicious murder!" He shook his head vigorously. "Nay! I say again I will not tempt fate! Doriath is not the place for me or any of those who would follow my lead."

Failo nodded gently with understanding. "Then where will you go," he asked, looking past Celebrimbor into the easterly distance behind. Where his eyes sought he did not say, yet the son of Curufin smiled with knowing.

"Neither shall I go east," he said softly with a shake of his head. "For that would be to tempt fate in another fashion. Indeed I miss my father and people, as do all we Feanorrim who live in self exile. Yet through fate's mercy the wise inclination to remain in Nargothrond arose in our hearts, following not our rash lords who then lay heavily under the Curse of Mandos. And though I have great pity for my kinsfolk, it would now be folly for us to seek them out at this time. They remain chained to that grave doom from which we fled and I would not place myself or any of those who follow me, under its dismal influence again. Besides, I deem they would not easily forgive our treason. Nay, we have endured enough woe and pain than to go looking for more from our unhappy kin who dwell eastward."

"Then will you remain here with the wood elves?" asked Failo.

"Nay," Celebrimbor replied. "I have given it much thought and have made up my mind to go southward." He waved his hand over the swaying willow tops, pointing to the vague distant blue horizon. "If your heart calls you to the sea of green forests that is Doriath, mine hearkens to great Belegaer itself and the foaming surf upon the beach, the rolling waves upon deep waters and the white gulls gliding in salt tinged airs within sight of a far off isle that speaks of peace and contentment."

His eyes closed as he breathed in deeply of foreign airs that swept over distant shores. After a quiet moment, he turned to the others and found both Failo and Ravenne regarding him with half smiling faces.

"You speak of the Isle of Balar where lord Cirdan and the elves of the Falas now dwell?" said Failo.

"Indeed," Celebrimbor replied.

Failo nodded and looked southward for a while before turning back to Celebrimbor. "Nay, the great water does not call to me. Therefore it is plain that I have my road to take and you have yours." He came forward and put a hand on Celebrimbor's shoulder. "Well it seems we have chosen our ways forward and have little more to say here, so I will take my leave."
He bowed then to the lord and lady and turned away, passing under the trees and out of sight.

In after days Failo would lead his people to Doriath where they were well received. There he would be known as lord Faelir who with his people, adopted Doriath's stance against the sons of Feanor for possession of the Silmaril.

In the meantime, Celebrimbor turned to Ravenne who stood looking northward. The wind was in her hair and the sun shone upon her face. She was indeed a sight to behold, standing tall and slender with an aura of strength and stern purpose about her. Celebrimbor did not speak, staring rather at the wonder of womanhood that stood before him. How could one not admire her dark beauty. Yet Celebrimbor perceived a touch of sadness in Ravenne's gaze; a great melancholy hidden behind those grey pools; the windows to her troubled soul. Yet he knew that such had always been Ravenne's way, to be stern and silent of mood, being a formidable woman who in the grimness of heart led a deadly company that had fought selflessly and valiantly for their people. Whatever grief lay in her heart had been both a blessing to the Noldor who had benefited from her service, and yet an unceasing burden of sorrow to her happiness. It pained him to see so much darkness in one who might have been a fair lady of great joy, and whose lofty beauty would have been a constant wonder to all as it shone through her blessed smile.

But now Ravenne turned to him, a little perturbed by his wordless stare. Her brow creased to a soft frown. "And why do you stare at me Telperinquar?" she asked.

"I await your choice as to where you wish to go." he replied. "Will it be the woods of Doriath or the far Isle of Balar?"

Ravenne's gaze turned southward and then back again to the north. "Neither realm is to my liking," she said after a moments thought. "Doriath is as perilous for me as it is for you. I will not go that way. Yet neither am I called to the Isle of Balar."

"Then would you stay here with the people of Estannen?" Celebrimbor asked. "Surely you would not let the valour of the Ohtatyeronissi waste away in the wild woods. There is need of arms in the realms of elves that still survive the onslaught of Morgoth. The fell swords of the Warrior Women would be a welcome addition to any lord's army, even were it on a far isle that may serve as the last refuge of elves in Beleriand."

"Do not fear," Ravenne replied. "I do not mean to retire the swords of my company. Yet you speak truly when you say there is need of arms in other elven realms that still stand. And so my heart is moved to turn eastward, and there seek for our kin who now dwell upon the hill of Amon Ereb!"

Celebrimbor stood silent, staring with eyes that had widened with shock and fear. "You mean to return to our folk Ravenne! How can this be? Did my words to Failo fail to give you any understanding? Would you now replace yourself directly under the Curse that broods over our lords and the people who still follow them?"

"I mean to do just that," came her staunch reply.

"What folly is this?" cried Celebrimbor. "Surely you must see that you cannot go back there. To those of Amon Ereb you are but a traitor whose punishment could be death for your treason. And even if you were somehow forgiven, you would still have to contend with the Curse of Mandos which would inflict itself upon you all the more, in harsh payment for spurning the gift of freedom that fate had given you in finding the heart to stay in Nargothrond."

It was Ravenne's turn to raise her voice. "Do you think I do not know it!" she returned with a flash of eyes. "Long have you preached this to us, hoping to say it often enough so as to have yourself believe that our separation from our folk is a good thing. But know Telperinquar that it was not through any deserving merit of ours that fate used us as tools to sharply reprimand Tyelcormo and Curufinwe for their malicious deeds. We were all caught up in the great events of that time as we became part of the tale of Beren and Luthien's quest. Yet I do not think we are forgiven for our past mistakes. The wrath of the West still lies heavily upon us and we should not presume to absolve ourselves simply because we chose not to follow our rash lords.

I cannot continue to look askance to my kinsfolk and shun them by leaving the mainland of Middle-earth in a vain attempt to flee our doom. My allegiance to our people must come first. I had forgotten that in my bitterness of heart but no more. I shall beg our peoples forgiveness so that I might continue to serve them as best as I may. Surely the swords of the Ohtatyeronissi will be welcomed by our ever dwindling folk. Therefore I go to Amon Ereb with any who choose to go with me. My mind is well and truly made up."

Celebrimbor sighed. "Grave are your words Lady Feanariel," he said, "and thinly veiled is your reprimand. So you think I am a craven prince who flees his duty to his people. Yet must one out of duty blindly follow the lead into folly? If my eyes are now opened to my mistakes, why should you rebuke the purposes of my conscience. You upbraid the repentance of those who aim to set right within themselves the wrongs of old. That is not fair Ravenne. Moreover, I have in me a measure of foresight that has me follow a different path that shall lead to some far off future that I cannot yet perceive. For I feel in me a destiny that I must achieve. There is some great deed that I must do. I have no idea of what it might be but I am moved to make these decisions here and now, so as to fulfil that far off aim. I can put it no plainer than that."

Ravenne looked intently at the prince for a long moment and slowly nodded her head. "Indeed there is a doom to be read here," she said at last. "Yet I am doubtful as to whether its outcome shall be good. You are of the seed of Feanaro and the very inheritance of his fame passed to your father Curufinwe and so into you. For you are imbued with a part of your grandsire's great skill of craftsmanship.
Therefore I will say this to you Telperinquar, son of Curufinwe, son of Feanaro: the spiritual eye of your grandsire shall be fixed more fully upon you who received his gift. The Silmarils that were made of his craft have brought great joy, yet terrible woe to the world. Beware that you do not fall into the same trap, and use your inherited gifts to create works that may also bring unbounded happiness to the elven realms of the day, and yet instigate a great ruin unto the land."

Celebrimbor blanched at that. "You are a stern lady," he said. "Yet seldom have you been this grim. Does my decision to seek the Isle of Balar rather than the hill of Amon Ereb cause you such offence that all you would hope for me is a dark and dismal future?"

"Nay fair prince!" she replied, coming close to him and taking his hands in her own. "What foresight reveals to us can either be fathomed for good or for ill, yet to be forewarned is to have the wisdom to proceed wisely when the time comes. I do not want you to make the same mistakes of your fathers Telperinquar, that is all."

Celebrimbor looked into Ravenne's eyes and saw a warmth that had come to light. A faint smile brightened her face as she genuinely sought to comfort him from her stern words. She held no ill will towards him as he had thought. Celebrimbor realised then that this was a strange woman, whose true mind and purposes could hardly be fathomed. Yet at that moment he felt compelled to try.

"Ravenne," he said softly. "I would ask you something, yet I do not want you to become angry."

She looked questioningly at him. "What is it?" she asked.

Celebrimbor took in a deep breath. "I know you have given your reasons for returning to our people and they seem valid enough, yet I cannot help but wonder if there is more behind it. I ask as your friend so do not take offence. Is there some other reason that has you look to Amon Ereb at this time?"

Ravenne's face darkened as her smile vanished and the warmth in her eyes retreated behind a hard shell. She released his hands and turned away, reasserting a distance between them.

"Why do you ask such as that?" she said with vague irritation. "Can I not for honour find my way back to where I feel I belong?"

"Perhaps you can," answered Celebrimbor. "But I cannot help but feel that there is more to it than that."

A silence then passed between them and the surrounding woodland voiced its presence. A gentle breeze whispered in the ear, the green stems upon the boughs of the willows nodded and their rustling leaves waved. Yellow eyed blackbirds and red breasted robins twittered as they flew by or sat perched upon smooth tree limbs; brown chirping skylarks were nesting amid the bracken. The high skies were feathered by smatterings of white cloud, sailing lazily amid a blue backdrop that was brightly lit by a warming sun.

"Perhaps I have asked too much, my Lady," said Celebrimbor, breaking the silence between them. "I shall therefore take my leave." He bowed to her and began to walk away.

"Wait!" came the call that halted him. He turned and found Ravenne looking eastward with eyes that would pierce the haze of distance, and see from afar the fortress upon the lonely hill.

"I am weary Telperinquar," she said to him. "Weary of fighting, of fleeing...of the longing." She turned to him with eyes ablaze with some intense emotion that Celebrimbor did not yet understand. "I am weary of living this way," she continued. "Living with such bitterness of heart and the sorrow that comes with it." At that she shuddered visibly. "Oh! but long have I felt this way, though he would not know of my grief, for then he might face that which he has long sought to flee!"

Ravenne seemed then to falter and diminish, as if the words just spoken had struck her with a malady of sudden grief. She paled in the bright sun and her face became drawn with the strain of some inner turmoil that now revealed itself. Her eyes seemed to glaze over, their expression distant and sorrowful.
Celebrimbor watched and listened intently, and slowly realised the answer to the riddle. Ravenne was quiet now, standing there forlorn with bowed head. He took a step forward, not sure how he could comfort her. In the end he thought he would simply talk.

"So it is as many have guessed...you love lord Tyelcormo."

At the mention of his name she raised her head sharply as if startled out of some distant rapture, and her unseeing eyes cleared.
"I love Tyelcormo?" she seemed to ask, as if genuinely surprised by his notion. She bowed her head. "Yes," she whispered, afraid to finally say it aloud and admit it to another. She then looked up and Celebrimbor could see the tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "Yes," she repeated in a louder tone. "Long have I loved him. Since our early days in Tirion where we first came to know each other as children, I loved him."

She took a step towards Celebrimbor with a face that exuded an intense vulnerability, and whose mournful glistening eyes searched his imploringly. "You could never hope to understand what it is to endure countless years of denial. It is enough to drive one witless with grief for we as elves were not made to withstand such trials of the heart. Yet such has been my fate Telperinquar and it has been worse than any curse the Valar could have thrust upon me. Yet I am cowed at last for I can no longer keep away from him. I shall endure the hatred and the scorn he shall surely inflict upon me for my treason and betrayal of our ancient friendship. But I shall be near him again and that shall have to be enough."

Celebrimbor listened with great pity and sorrow and came forward to embrace her. "Ravenne, I am sorry," was all he could say.

She tensed with uncertainty as she stood encircled by the comforting gesture of his arms, but the warmth of his genuine sympathy thawed the barriers of her sorrow and she held onto him and wept for a while, releasing the tears of countless years of bitter grief.

Finally she pulled away from him, passing a hand over her eyes. "You must think less of me," she muttered. "To have the Lady Feanariel weep unabashedly in your arms."

But Celebrimbor shook his head. "Nay lady," he said. "I perceive that a great wrong has been done here, and I shudder to think how you have endured it for so long. I do not know why lord Tyelcormo has denied you when it was apparent to all that your destinies were intertwined. Yet let what I say to you now give but a little comfort to your stricken heart: For your love is given to a son of Feanaro and theirs is a strange fate. To enter into it is to take upon yourself the trials and tribulations that beset their doom. Yet you are better than I who am a very prince of their household. For as I would flee, you still have the heart to pursue the prince you love and the conviction to fight for the people you cherish. My lady Ravenne, there are few women if any who are such as yourself, and blessed are we Noldor to have you. My only prayer would be that lord Tyelcormo should come to realise this, and finally treat you in the manner that you truly deserve from him."

Ravenne smiled, bringing about a beauty that had Celebrimbor stare again in wonder. She brought up a hand to caress his cheek. "I seem to have misjudged where your true skill lies as it is not in craftsmanship. For never before has one been so artful in speech so as to enhearten a love stricken lady to hope."
Celebrimbor laughed.

"And so I would now ask why you have no wife to speak of?" she asked archedly. "As I marvel that there could be any lady who could resist the charms of one of such eloquence."

At that a cloud passed over Celebrimbor's smile and he said gravely, "There is none yet who has so moved me, my lady. Yet I fear that when I finally meet the choice of my heart's happiness, I too shall endure the pain of love unrequited."

Ravenne's smile faded at his grim forecast but Celebrimbor's smile returned. "Nay, do not begin to worry for me. Hearken rather to what I say for I too am now urged to foretell as to your fate: Therefore look to yourself daughter of Sailanambar, for though you do not yet see it, there is light upon your horizon and a glimmer of the happiness you have so craved. You must indeed follow your heart and go to Tyelcormo, for a final chance to set things right between you shall come your way. In that hour, if you give up hope, you will lose your heart's desire. Yet if you hold firm, then you shall gain the love that has long eluded you, though it should last for but a short while."

~oOo~

Soon after, Failo departed from Nan-Tathren with those who would go to Doriath, and these were all the surviving Noldor of the house of Finarfin who were still with him. But not one of the Feanorrim went with them and their parting was a grievous one as the two peoples had grown very close in friendship over the years.
A few days later Celebrimbor and Ravenne took their leave of Estannen and his folk, and passing south through the willow woods, came to the inflow of the Narog into Sirion. There these two peoples said their farewells, for with Ravenne would go all the women of the Ohtatyeronissi that were left as none would abandon their lady.

"Farewell son of Curufinwe," said Ravenne to Celebrimbor at their parting. "May you find what solace is left for we elves in Beleriand, and keep alive a portion of the Feanorrim who are lighter of heart than their brethren."

To this Celebrimbor answered, "Then it is farewell Ravenne Vanyamore, daughter of Sailanambar who is also the Lady Feanariel of the Ohtatyeronissi. May you find our people upon the hill, and be pardoned for our perceived treason. But let wisdom now rule all your counsels henceforth, rather than the rash pride of a heavily doomed house. And it is my uttermost hope that you shall gain your heart's desire and live awhile in great happiness before the storm. For my heart now tells me that the gravest of deeds lies upon the dark horizon for our people, when all the hopes of the Feanorrim of Amon Ereb should come to grievous battle between elvenkind. I cannot foresee the ruin of its outcome, yet the price shall be heavy for all involved. I will not say more!"

So with those ominous words they parted, and Celebrimbor crossed the Narog with all the people of Feanor that were left to him, and they took their way south. Eventually they did indeed come to the mouths of the Sirion and there were found by Cirdan's scouts who then ferried them over the sea to that final refuge upon the Isle of Balar. Of the terrible deeds of the Feanorrim that took place thereafter in Doriath and Sirion, Celebrimbor and his people took no part.
After the defeat of Morgoth, only a few of the Feanorrim hearkened to the pardon of the Valar that had many elves return to the West. Instead, they dwelt in Lindon under Gil-Galad until they moved to Eregion and aided in the establishment of the Ost-in-Edhil.

Much is told in later years of the Gwaith-i-Mirdain, the People of the Jewel-smiths of whom all were elven craftsmen of the Feanorrim of Nargothrond. They surpassed in cunning all that have ever wrought, save only Feanor himself, yet the dark words of Ravenne to Celebrimbor who was their leader and of greatest skill among them, finally came to pass even as she had foretold.
For the elven smiths made the Rings of Power that were to instigate the making of Sauron's Ruling Ring that would tilt the balance of power in Middle earth to evil, and bring great ruin to all for years to come.
In this the wise have said could be discerned perhaps the final vengeance of the fiery spirit of Feanor against the treason of Celebrimbor his grandson and the Feanorrim of Nargothrond, by bringing a final ruin to all their hopes and aspirations, and so have them pay at long last for fleeing their kin of old and abandoning the grim purpose to which they had promised to uphold during their ancient rebellion.

Yet for Ravenne and the Ohtatyeronissi, they did indeed come to Amon Ereb, to the great wonder of their kin. There they were pardoned and received by most of their people, yet some few were still unforgiving though these held their tongues. But in an act of sincere penance, Ravenne refused to be reinstated to her former position at council as some had desired. She instead remained the captain of her company. However, the Ohtatyeronissi were now few as many had been lost in the wars fought over the years, but they were still a formidable force to be reckoned with, and held in honour by the majority of their people. Yet between Ravenne and Celegorm lay a great void, which for her was a silence of uncertainty as to how to approach the anger of his brooding silence. But on the night of the eve of their march, it came suddenly to her heart that she could no longer delay, as time had almost run out for settling what lay between them.

"We are done, do you hear?" came the voice from afar, intruding upon Ravenne's thoughts and bringing her back to the fortress upon Amon Ereb.

---

Author's Commentary:

This chapter returns to the normal timeline of the story and runs parallel to "THE SONS OF FEANOR"chapter.
I give a summarised history of the Ohtatyeronissi. This was the way I had originally thought to intro Ravenne's character but it wouldn't have done justice to the whole "Warrior Women" notion that I had. It's a controversial creation on my part and moreso since all the prior chapters have been following the Tolkien canon as closely as possible.

Anyway, this and the next chapter are trying to tie up the relationship between Celegorm and Ravenne.
I would ask all to forgive the meandering nature my story is now taking, but I just can't bring myself to jump straight to the battle without trying to explore in greater depth this Middle-earth universe. A story can be made up of many other tales that join the main flow of the original piece and thereby complement and hopefully en-richen it.
As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter.