The Fall Of Doriath by gamil-zirak

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The Son Of Feanor And The Lady Of The Ohtatyeronissi

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THE SON OF FEANOR AND THE LADY OF THE OHTATYERONISSI

THE FALL OF DORIATH

*OHTATYERONISSI means the "Warrior Women"

Chapter Nine...
"THE SON OF FEANOR AND THE LADY OF THE OHTATYERONISSI"

"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.

She turned to Celegorm's dark form who still sat in his chair. "So it has well and truly come to this between us," she said softly, coming forward to stand before him at the opposite end of the table. "You neither miss my friendship nor want it! Those are hard words Tyelcormo, harder for me than you could possibly know."

"And I mean what I say Ravenne," he returned. "Our ancient friendship is no more and the sooner you understand this, the better shall I be pleased."

She stood then, staring at him in silence. She was shrouded in shadow, yet Celegorm could see the gleam of her keen eyes as she watched him. He took up his flagon, held it to his lips and drank deeply of his wine with grey eyes that stared back at her from the cup's rim.

Ravenne pulled out the chair in front of her. "You may think to be rid of me but I shall not give up so easily on our friendship," she said as she sat down.

A slow smile formed upon Celegorm's lips; one that was cold and conveyed a sense of malice. His eyes glinted in the candlelight. "Friendship?" he said softly. "Is that all you have ever wanted of me?"

It seemed that Ravenne froze where she sat, with only a flicker in her eyes that gave away her great alarm.

But Celegorm laughed mockingly. "Do you think that there could be anything more between us after all these years?" Yet his scornful flippancy of matters that touched her near roused a heated anger.

Ravenne's reply was ardently swift. "Do not overstep yourself Tyelcormo or you will indeed earn my hatred," she hissed. "I tire of the childishness you seek to portray. Behave like a man for once instead of cowering behind such insinuations."

Celegorm's smile faded and his eyes hardened. He turned away and failed to see her look of relief, or the fact that she was trembling.

"Many a time have I wondered about you," she continued, seeking to drive their talk away from the feared truth. "Always have you played the part of the brash prince of your house, ever proud and wilful, with little thought for those around you."

Celegorm turned sharply to face her again with eyes ablaze with rising ire. "And when did I ever fail to give thought to you and our friendship?" he returned. "With you it seems the blame is all mine for what passed between us, though it were you who abandoned me when I most needed your loyalty and support. And now you have the impudence to call me a 'brash over eager princeling'of little substance and maturity. Yet what of the crooked in you Ravenne? You who would wilfully suppress the womanhood that is your due through some strange desire. One would not know you were a lady save by your looks which though sightly, are wasted upon you."

Ravenne lowered her hurt ridden eyes but Celegorm continued unabated. "Indeed, if you would lavish me with perceived faults, then you must be told of your own! But I will not sit in my own chamber to be insulted by the likes of you." He stood up abruptly. "Now I have told you before but shall not again. Show yourself to the door or I shall treat you as the man you crave to be and forcefully thrust you out!"

Ravenne however did not move. "Always the 'hasty riser'as your mother named you," she said calmly. "But you should know better than to think you could daunt me. I will leave when I am done for I have much to say that you aught to hear and consider before you decide to turn your back on what we may mean to each other."

Celegorm seemed to hesitate. His eyes narrowed briefly; the line of his mouth hardened; his jaw clenched. He made a slow movement but it was to retake his seat.

"But why do you behave as you do Tyelcormo?" Ravenne asked, shaking her head. "Your wilful pride serves only to show that you are not content with yourself. Yet believe me, you have nothing to prove. Not to your brothers or your father or your people and least of all to me! Can you not see that?"

"So now you would profess to know the inner workings of my mind with your foolish assumptions," he replied. "You know nothing of me Ravenne!"

"If you think you are still a mystery to me after knowing you so long, then you are gravely mistaken," she returned. "I know you better than you know yourself. Yet the way of Feanaro and his sons to my heart is through pity as I understand them at last."

"Youwould pity me?!" said Celegorm incredulously.

"To be sure," Ravenne replied. "I pity all the princes of the Feanorrim whose true intentions and purposes are overruled by a destined fate that is set against them."

"Then my lady speak plainly," said Celegorm. "For if you would take issue as to our intention of going to Doriath with the purposeof retrieving our Silmaril, say so and be done!"

"Then let me say this," Ravenne complied. "You awake from slumber a deadly peril that should afflict the Feanorrim dearly, should you provoke it."

Celegorm stirred in his seat but Ravenne raised a halting hand. "Nay, listen to what I say Tyelcormo for you know I speak not out of cowardice but that I merely foretell. So I have come in part to warn you because of our friendship, and that you are most eminent in this venture. Therefore heed me when I say; do not go to Doriath with war, for fate will be set against you and the outcome shall not be so good. There shall surely be other ways of which to attain the jewel that are not so fraught with the dark power of the Curse."

Celegorm sat eyeing her in utter amazement. Suddenly, he began to laugh loudly with genuine amusement. "Ravenne, you do make me laugh," he said, wiping away the tears from his eyes. "You truly missed your calling in life as you should have been a court jester!" He downed his wine and poured himself a refill. "So," he continued, "first you find much fault with me and now it is with my brothers and our deeds. And all this abuse is given by one who seeks to renew a friendship between us. You are truly a wonder!"

"And again you choose not to listen or to understand," said Ravenne with exasperation. "Confound your obstinate pride that would hinder at the worst of times!"

"Enough!" cried Celegorm. "I have taken much from you this night but you tread on perilous ground. You will not speak to me as though I were a child."

"Then refrain from behaving like one!" cried Ravenne in return. "It is because I care that I say these things. Do you not see that it is folly to hold blindly to your Oath without thought of consequence. Even I whom of old was foremost in supporting all your father said and did, now understand that we were wrong in many aspects of our thought, and so should rethink our stance and choose wisely when stood at the crossroads of doom as we are here and now."

"And what would you know of it?" snapped Celegorm. "You who uttered not the Oath, and therefore has no inkling as to what truly moves we princes to do the deeds we do. You who can afford to change your mind on a whim as to supporting our cause. How dare you come to me this night, claiming to be a sage of grim prophecy as to our future! You are but an unrepentant traitor, who comes to me with treasonous counsels! Yet you shall not waver my vowed resolve! My Oath is ever the guiding star that shines in my night sky, keen and bright. Not for any thought or counsel shall I abandon this purpose for it is still to me the only reason for which we came to Middle earth. Yet if you would fall upon the wayside, let the burden of guilty weakness be yours alone. My Oath however is my bond, to which I shall forever hold. And if fate be against me in this endeavour, then so be it! I and my brothers have a legitimate claim to the Silmaril and we shall retrieve it with war if needs be...or die trying."

"Oh truly are you your father's son!" cried Ravenne, shaking her head. "Both foolishly proud and headstrong. No counsel, however wise can move you once your mind is made up. On you would go to a folly of great immensity, though the whole world should beseech you to stop and take heed!"

She regarded him then as if he were a troublesome child whom no amount of scolding could deter from mischievous deeds. "For all your faults I once thought highly of you," she continued in a softer tone. "You were a spirited and lively prince, both popular with your people and very dear to me. Yet behind your proud strut was a thoughtfulness that many missed, seeing only the dashing exterior you sought to portray. But I who was close to you perceived the wisdom bequeathed to you by Nerdanel your mother."

At that, Celegorm who had been facing away now turned back to her with flaming eyes that hinted a growing peril as to her words.

But Ravenne continued. "Yet ever have you favoured the traits of your father over those of your mother which would guide your life's decisions all the better. However, in thinking of her I now understand my own place in this sorry tale. For as she suffered for love of a prince of the elder house of Finwe, such too is my miserable fate. For know that as Feanaro failed Nerdanel by his deeds, so too have you failed me!"

At that, Celegorm rose from his seat as a vision of bitter anger, and came towards Ravenne with an outstretched arm that would wrench her from her seat.

"Nay!" he growled as he came. "I have heard all I have stomach for."

He grabbed her arm and yanked her from her chair, but she thrust him back with a push of emotional violence. They faced one another and the tension in the air crackled with the strain between them that seemed like a smouldering fire, drawn from eye to eye, that might suddenly burst to flame.

It was Ravenne who cut the silent deadlock between them. "How does the truth feel Tyelcormo!?" she said in a low voice that was full of challenge. "And to think that your true failure has been as much to me as to your poor mother whom you disdainfully abandoned, caring not for her sorrow and misery!"

Celegorm suddenly stepped forward and with the swiftness of a striking snake, struck Ravenne across her face with the back of his hand. The blow sent her staggering back to collide into her chair. There she stood a moment, with her face still turned aside from the blow and hidden from view by her tousled dark hair. A trembling hand was held to her cheek. She was breathing hard. Slowly her head turned back to face Celegorm and her hair fell away to reveal an expression of utter shock. But Celegorm's eyes blazed unapologetically in their response.

"You!" he sneered. "Who do you think you are to talk so about Nerdanel. You can denigrate me, my brothers and even my father but to include my mother in your crazed rantings! You insolent brazen fool!"

Ravenne continued to stare but Celegorm turned away and as he did so, passed a hand across his eyes. He leaned against the table with his head bowed, glowering in the shadows.

"I will not apologise for striking you," he said after a bristling pause. "All you have done this night is to goad me with your abuse, and I am sick of you. For you have but added an unnecessary burden to my honour as I now blame myself for my violence against you." He sighed long and wearily. "All I wanted this night was to retire early and find some semblance of peace before the storm. But you have utterly denied me that Ravenne for I shall not sleep now for guilt." He slowly turned to her with eyes that were quenched of their light. "Get out," he muttered.

But Ravenne let fall the hand that was held to her cheek, straightened to stand tall and shook her head in refusal. "Speak to me," she said softly. "Make me understand you Tyelcormo. I deserve that now at least." The shock had faded from her eyes, which had softened with sorrow and moistened with wearied emotion.

Celegorm turned away again and took up his flagon of wine, raising it to his mouth to drink. But suddenly, he flung it across the room where it shattered against the far wall, staining a fair hanging and scattering its broken pieces upon the fur rugs. But Ravenne did not flinch at the sudden show of frustration.
Celegorm eyed her a moment before returning to sit heavily on his chair. He leaned back to stare out the western window; his face red and deeply shadowed in the ruddy light.

"Do you think we did not love our mother, Ravenne?" he asked after a moments reflection. "Do you think it was easy for us to leave her? You know nothing of how we brothers used to lie to our father when we lived in exile at Formenos. "We go to hunt,"was our devious claim when he or you or any other enquired as to our journeying. We reckoned none knew of our secret meetings with our mother then, in the lands between Tirion and Formenos. How could we spend all those years without seeing her. Yet Feanaro knew what we did for nothing could escape his subtle mind. But he did not hinder us as he understood our yearning hearts. He knew what it was to love Nerdanel, daughter of Mahtan."

Celegorm stood and went to the window, his dark gaze piercing the western night as if his sights sought to traverse the far distance that separated him from Aman. "But the ensuing events brought about unforeseen griefs, for our grandsire soon lay dead and the Silmarils were stolen." His face whipped back to look at Ravenne. "You cannot truly know of our anguish at that time, though you were there to witness it. From being exiled from Tirion, to losing our grandsire and king to violent death, to the rape of our treasures, it seemed a grave misfortune were pointedly set against the house of Feanaro in the Blessed Land and we could do nothing but retaliate! So we uttered the Oath in our bitter anger and immense despair. Yet none of we brothers have forgotten how Nerdanel begged us to stay, citing the grave fear she had for the future of her sons should they take a road so dark."

His eyes seemed to glaze over as they looked upon visions of sad memory. "I cannot forget her tears Ravenne. Neither can I forget her pleading voice and clutching hands that sought to do what a loving mother does best...protect her children. But did we listen? Could we listen? For all our anguish of heart, how could we refuse Feanaro in that grave hour. If his potent words and mighty strength of will could sway the minds of most of the Noldor to leave the Blessed Realm, then what of we his own sons! Yet all of us would have hearkened to Nerdanel if fate had been kinder, but it was not so. Even Ambarussa and Ambarto could not find it in themselves to stay at that time, though she pleaded especially for them to remain. We all were the dutiful sons to our father on that sorrowful day and so we still are even now. Yet our hearts wept and continue to weep at being sundered from our mother. Only in conjured memory can I look upon her face, and hear her softly spoken words of comfort and wisdom. That is all I have left of her."

His eyes now seemed to waver and glisten but he willed his emotion away, staring at Ravenne with solemnity. "And so it has ever been in my heart and in my brothers too. A neverending grief that has no cure save that we should meet our beloved mother again in some far off circumstance. And as I feel this way, so should you now understand your utter folly in dismissing my love for her. You must realise how wrong you were to say that we disdainfully abandoned Nerdanel with not a thought to her sorrow and misery. For we suffer just as much in being apart from her, and more-so, for in our heart of hearts we know we might have been wrong to choose in the manner we did. But such are rash deeds; always seemingly good in the act, but otherwise with hindsight."

Here Celegorm fell silent, staring now at the candle flame that burned in hues of steady blue, broad yellow and wavering red. Ravenne stood with eyes wide in disbelief. Had Celegorm just admitted to the folly of his Oath! She swept towards him and fell to her knees before his seated form. Her eyes now searched his with feverish hope.

"Then if you well and truly feel this way, will you not listen to what I have counselled and change your course as to retrieving the Silmaril?"

Celegorm looked at her and smiled ruefully. "No Ravenne, I will not change my mind."

She stared back at him with an expression that slowly darkened from bright hope to dismay to weary disappointment. Her head lowered and in the gloom she seemed a vision of sorrowful dejection. But Celegorm leaned forward, put his hand to her chin and gently raised her eyes to look into his.

"Come now Ravenne," he said softly. "Now the failure is yours for dismissing the greater design here. Let me say again that I uttered an Oath that cannot be broken, and it should pursue me to the world's end whether I keep it or break it. It is my burden to bear and I cannot shirk from my responsibility, no matter the wisdom or folly of it." He gave a little humourless laugh. "Surely you will cede that from my words there is less of the brash and more of the sombreprince in me now."

Ravenne looked at him a while and sighed. "Even now you jest," she said but there was a hint of a smile upon her face.
Her grey eyes roved about his person as if to look for some visible blemish that would contradict his words. But she saw and felt his aura, glowing faintly about him in a hue of gallant blue. He now had a renewed self awareness that came of his heartfelt confessions as the thoughtfulness of Nerdanel came to the fore and the wilfulness of Feanor receded. He seemed more like Tyelcormo the son of his mother than Turcafinwe of his father. Indeed the brashprince was gone...for the moment.

"What shall I do with you, son of Nerdanel?" she said at last. "It is plain I cannot avert your counsel no matter how hard I would try. Yet I understand your position all the better and would therefore be at your side if you will have me, to aid you in this direst of conquests." They looked at each other in silence, yet Celegorm's eyes now held a hint of warmth that gave hope to Ravenne.

"I solemnly accept your offer oselleas I also now understand you better," he said at last. "For I see that you are guided by a grave wisdom and foresight of which alas, I can neither choose to follow nor dare to fathom. If mine is to be a dark fate in Doriath then so be it. Were I to meet my doom while fighting for a Silmaril then that shall be as fitting an end for me as should be expected." Here he took her hands in his and smiled warmly. "Yet it would ease my heart to have my oldest friend and adopted sister with me in this most important venture."

But his tender gesture and soft words seemed to rouse a sudden newfound distress in Ravenne that came from the pit of her aching heart.

"Is that all I am to you?" came her question.

It was spoken lightly, yet laden with long ages of emotional meaning. She could see his eyes harden slightly as he leaned back, releasing her hands and setting in place the familiar distance between them. But Ravenne could not let him be any longer. This was the night to declare what truly lay between them.

"Nay Tyelcormo, do not pull away!" she implored. "You have shared with me the most intimate truths that lie in your heart in regards to the Silmarils and your Oath. Yet the time has come to speak of what truly lies between us."

Celegorm shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his face a vision of nervous agitation. "Ravenne," he stammered. "What more do you want said?"

She became very still, yet Celegorm could clearly see that she was trembling. "Do you not know?" was her soft reply.

There was emotional uncertainty in his eyes; as if a notion long hidden now sprung forth to the fore in his mind, forcing him to confront feelings long held in check. Yet he spoke as one who has heard what he least expected.

"So my earlier guess was right," he mused. "You do think there could be more between us." Ravenne did not answer but knelt where she was, as a trembling statue. "And now your words make better sense to me," Celegorm continued with slow realisation. "For I wondered why you declared that I failed you as my father failed my mother." His face was turned aside but now he looked at her again. "But why have you not spoken of this before Ravenne? Not once in all our long years of acquaintance have you alluded to feeling as you do."

"Because after all these years I have been waiting for you to realise that which you have long fled," came her quiet reply. "For there is a part of you that has always known how I truly felt. And so it has been with me as regards to you. But as I ever held myself in readiness, you chose friendship to be the theme of our relationship. This I accepted as I thought you were not yet ready for more between us, but the years passed us by and still you held back." She gave a long tremulous sigh. "So I continued to wait...for longer than any woman has reason to. And I watched in bitter silence as your eye lighted upon others whom you would favour. And that hurt me Tyelcormo! You really hurt me! But with Luthien my heart finally turned cold and I thought to be rid of you. Yet here I returned at last, for I cannot eternally deny myself of you. Nay! I am not as cruel as you who would forever keep me close and yet at bay, under the guise of a dear friendship."

Celegorm looked on with gradual understanding as all of Ravenne's past actions that had perturbed him now made sense. But even as she laid bare her heart, he would still cover up what was in his. Had he ever given thought to what Ravenne could truly mean to him? Of course! She was everything he desired in a woman. Strong willed; courageous; wise; noble and bore a dark beauty that was scarcely to be seen even among elves. Yet he had held himself back from seeking more with her. For even though they seemed so perfect a match, the very prospect of them being together in earnest daunted him.

She had rightly observed that he had never been truly content with himself. He felt his role as a middle prince in his family's hierarchy was difficult to define. From his youth he felt that few listened to or understood him. He was always in the shadow of his elder brothers Maedhros and Maglor who were beloved by both his parents and greatly esteemed and honoured by all in Aman and Middle-earth. Yet it seemed that greater love were also given to his younger siblings, for Curufin was Feanor's favourite son whilst Amrod, Amras and Caranthir were closer in affection to Nerdanel.

It is this notion that had made Celegorm the prince he would later become, for if his family would overlook him, he thought to gain the notice of their people. Therefore he portrayed himself as the brash but gallant son of Feanor; seen in his peoples eyes as the dashing prince of the elder royal house. He took to hunting since it were a very popular pastime in Aman that garnered great respect and accolades for those who excelled in it. These he won, further elevating his status in the hearts of his people. He chose also to accentuate his solitary status by refusing to accompany his father and his siblings when they were guests in the house of Aule, seeking rather his own road to the mansions of Orome instead.

As time passed, he soon garnered the high esteem of all his people that was scarce less than that of Maedhros himself. Yet in his heart he still had many insecurities. And so he kept Ravenne at bay, fearing he could never be good enough for the one woman he felt utterly content with as she would soon discern the weaknesses he strove to hide under his proud and wilful mask and thereby come to scorn him.
But now Ravenne leaned forward, clutching his hands. Her expression was more vulnerable than Celegorm had ever seen her, with wide moist eyes that pleaded to his heart, and a trembling mouth that uttered a barely audible whisper.

"Do you not love me Tyelcormo?" came her tentative request.

He did not know what to say. Could he let himself love Ravenne in the manner he truly wanted. His heart yearned for that but his mind refuted his passion. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but seemed to hesitate. Yet Ravenne tightened her grip on his hands and her gaze became more intense in her desperate need for an answer.

"Please," she said. "I have laid bare all my hope, my desire and my anguish." She closed her eyes and tremulously gathered herself as if preparing to say something of great immensity. Suddenly she stilled and slowly raised her head and opened her eyes again.

"For I love you Tyelcormo," she said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Not as my friend or brother but as my heart's partner...my heart's passion! I have loved you since our early years in Tirion and have spent all the later ages yearning for a resolution between us. And I truly believe that I deserve that from you now, given the heartache I have endured in the waiting. Therefore if I have ever meant anything to you, answer me now and as truthfully as you can. Tyelcormo! Do you not love me?!"

Once again Celegorm seemed to stutter but at that moment there came a soft music, wafting through the still airs of the warm night. It was the melody of a harp whose strands sang in a manner both haunting and mournful. Yet there was great beauty in its tone that forced ears to listen perforce whether they would or no. Few minstrels had such skill yet this held a power that surpassed all save one. Both Celegorm and Ravenne turned their heads and silently rose as if the sweet melody beckoned to them. All the intimate matters of the heart of which they discussed were set aside in their minds as the musical theme wove its pattern about them, caressing their thought and enticing their sense of wonder.

They both found themselves at the door and as Celegorm opened it, he turned to Ravenne. "There is no-one who can play with such skill save Macalaure. Yet he plays a lament of which I fear he shall say much that I do not want to hear."

"Yet we are forced to listen all the same," said Ravenne as they passed back down the long dim corridor. They soon exited the fortress upon the northern balcony whose steps led down to the inner courtyard that had Denethor's tombstone at its centre. There upon the landing, looking down from the white balustrades were a mesmerised Caranthir, Curufin and Amrod as they had just come from the Sambe an i Haryoni (Chamber for the Princes). All the patrolling guards in the area stood by with heads turned to Maglor, abandoning their duty to the powerful permeating enchantment of the song.

Upon reaching the balustrades, Celegorm and Ravenne looked down into the courtyard below and saw that it was crowded with the elves of Amon Ereb, and their numbers passed under the shadow of the tunnel and massed in the larger courtyard beyond, and so spilled even outside the gates and onto the sloping grey road. For all the elves hearkened to his song and stood with mesmerised faces that were all turned to Maglor or in his general direction. He himself stood by the black stone with his silver harp in hand. His long fingers strummed a melody of effortless beauty and yet of potent melancholy, seemingly subtle in its power yet overwhelming to the senses.

Now he raised his head and began to sing in a voice that took flight, meandering in the windless night airs with an enchantment that had his voice seem close and intimate, as if he sang into each and everyone's very ears, even those who were away on the outer slopes. His voice wandered even to the surrounding fields and woodlands so that the shadowy figures that patrolled there, stopped in their tracks as they listened. Further afield his voice went, rolling to the very banks of the Gelion whose waters flowed gently by, reflecting the countless stars with soft watery light.
All then heard Maglor's song of which he sang of his father and the deeds of his house.

T'was born there once in Tirion
a royal child, a kingly son,
of Feanaro here is sung
of deeds he dared these words are spun.
T'was kindled of the fire of old
that burned ere world begat it's mould,
Imperishable Flame of yore
was bound to him, such is known lore.
His mother fair a queen of elves
whose hands could weave akin to spells,
his father sat on mighty throne
an elven king in elvenhome.
And of their love was thus conceived
the princely gift their joy received,
yet of their son arose the strife
that birthed an heir, yet felled a life.
Consumed was queen of nurturing strength
and wearied lay through birth of length,
to nourish him her mighty son
she gave her life, her doom was spun.
Her dimming eyes caressed his face
with lips she blessed him with her grace,
O Miriel began to wane
as time thereof she could not gain.
To Finwe king turned wearied eyes
and she perceived his sadness rise,
but said to him "Ere I retire
our son I name him 'Spirit of Fire.'"

She bade the king to rear his son,
he looked to hope, she gave him none,
and thereby lay to rise no more
of ailment wracked that none could cure.
Then Finwe sought the Elder King
whose throne is perched on heaven's wing,
where glittered domes and tall halls shine
all shod in silver for all time.
Before the throne of Arda knelt
sad elven king misfortune dealt,
with shedded tears he gave his plea
that waning wife be healed and free.
Delivered then to Lorien
went sickly queen through glade and glen,
to silver groves and meads so fair
where willow woods sway in the air.
There Miriel laid her down to rest
fair spirits sang at her behest,
the care of Irmo she received
yet still her taint was not reprieved.
Upon her bed in gardens green
where voices sing through lips unseen,
where seeds undying flower and bloom
was wrought at last her final doom.
She slept beside the sparkling lake
to dreams that sought her, not to wake,
there Finwe called her by her names
alas she'd fled to death's domain.
Of all who lived in Valinor
under the light of trees of yore,
where joys abound encompassed all
save for the king where smiles would fall.
Thus Finwe dwelt sad in his grief,
with mourning heart shorn of relief,
to him all light shone wan and grey
his laughter fled, his cheer at bay.

All love bequeathed then to his son
a princeling babe that grief would shun,
and lo! the boy he swiftly grew
with secret fire he only knew.
Was tall and fair with raven hair
of piercing eyes that few could dare,
t'was eager, steadfast, masterful,
a kingly scion, born to rule.
Yet greater gift he had of hand
more skillful than all in the land,
for prone he was to works so dear
t'was Aule deemed his only peer.
He wed his maiden Nerdanel
whose sculptured works no eye could tell,
and she the daughter of Mahtan
with seven sons bore him his clan.

Tall Nelyafinwe is the first
most noble, wise, in lore well versed,
is mighty fair with russet mane
of greatness worthy of his name.
The second is an elf of song
to heed his harp beckons a throng,
of music fair which is his love
a golden trait of pride thereof.
The third is he of father's mould
proud warrior, hunter, swift and bold,
steadfast in will and strong of hand
and thus deemed fair prince of the land.
The fourth is dark, of ruddy hue
yet steadfast in all deeds is true,
in speech of few words is his wont
a darkling prince that naught can daunt.
The fifth was born alike his sire
and him most favoured by his father,
in skill of craft and to orate
bequeathed to him Feanaro's trait.
The sixth a twin inside the womb
his russet hair the red heirloom,
a hunter him of all beasts wild
the little prince, of temper mild.
The seventh son, a second twin
a name of fate was given him,
as he misgave his mother's heart,
and he the first of kin to part.

Of works of hand and thoughts of mind,
of gems he wrought and words he primed,
surpassed he was in all by none,
t'was Feanaro kingly son.
Yet greatest deed that he achieved
were Silmarils in glory wreathed,
but of them came his darkest woe
as doomed their fate with grave sorrow.
Of labour wrought there is no tale
that speaks of skill and vision hale,
in secret smithy delved down deep
he wrought what fate would bid and keep.
With power tempered, fraught with might
his thought he shaped to his delight,
with iron will he summoned forth
three mighty jewels of glorious worth.
There mingled light that trees did rear
in Silmarili crystal clear,
and set to live in new made house
by searing heats no frost could douse.
A power steeped within the stone
the shining flames of radiant tone,
their living hearts never to fade
of shimmering light their sight would bade.
Of gold and silver were their rays,
a glance that spoke of noontide days
in Valinor when light would meet,
and joyous song would hour greet.
Caught in their eye made all seem fair
great beauty laid that few could bear,
unmarred thereof by blight of time
their vision cleared all sight of rime.
The elves rejoiced to see their light,
astounded were the Gods of might,
and thronging Maiar praised in awe
the jewels that Feanaro bore.
Great Aule bowed to elven skill
that kingly son bent to his will,
and Mandos told to all the doom
that lay locked deep within their womb.
The fate of earth and sea and air
were set within the Silmarils care,
and Varda blessed them with her might
that darkness fail to faint their sight.
She set to work with lofty tools
and hallowed them those living jewels,
that hand unclean or mortal blight
be taintless to their holy sight.
Esteem and praise were prince's due
for labour wrought and for their hue,
fastbound his heart clung to his work
yet soon his pride he could not shirk.

Then him the lord of evil fate
was filled with lust and jealous hate,
and moved was he with dark desire
that flamed and raged like gnawing fire.
With secret power and restless toil
sought then to tempt with evil foil,
by sowing seeds of lingering doubt
to Noldor sinless and devout.
A poisoned peace of whispered lies
the Deep Elves fell from grace's eyes,
a great unrest thereafter grew,
a folly great bequeathed their due.
For hark the elven ears to lies
that darkened hearts, and joy it prised,
their pleasure fled as Morgoth willed,
content in Blessed Realm was stilled.
And Feanaro's eager heart
was smote by tyrant's wicked dart,
that kindled then a riled desire
to seek for new realms to acquire.
Thus smouldering lies and prideful ire
of malice cold, of hate and fear,
and woe grew rife to elven folk
through counsel fed of evil yoke.
Then bitter weapons none had known
fell tools the elves began to hone,
as harried thoughts of prideful lust,
denied their peace, brought forth mistrust.
T'was forged in secret deadly swords,
cruel sharpened blades filled elvish hoards,
and burnished shields and tall plumed helms
and armour bright to girt themselves.
And hunting bows found uses new
their quarry now of elvish hue,
as were the axe and glinting spears,
now set in hand to ward all fears.
Yet more unrest the Noldor had
as were Feanaro's deeds at hand,
that fey would lead to sundered house
through vaulted ire he would not douse.
Beneath the Mindon tall and fair
where shining towers pierce the air,
in halls of marble glistening white
befell a deed of shameful blight.
For grim Feanaro drew his sword
set to his kin with threatening word,
before the throne and father's eyes
unheeding brought true Morgoth's lies.
Thus angered Valar judged at last
who sowed the discontent so vast,
t'was Morgoth who would elves defame
and too Feanaro was to blame.

Then banished him for twelve long years
forlorn he left with sons and peers,
the city of his elven kin
for love of him went too the king.
To Formenos in northern hills
where towered pines and glistened rills,
of treasuries deep and delved halls fair
was fortress built, a banished lair.
Yet princely house was stricken new
and mourned their loss on wooden pew,
for Nerdanel, she followed not
estranged through griefs she'd not forgot.
Her prince's deeds left her aggrieved
for all the anguish they achieved,
as in her lord was much askew
that rendered lost the love they knew.
Of evil deeds that came to pass
assailed the trees that lit the past,
gold Laurelin was dimmed and worn
Telperion left silver shorn.
Yet worse the woe than death of trees
that Noldor felled to anguished knees,
for Finwe king braved mounting night,
of spidery horror and tyrant might.
His valour barred his enemies gain,
and evil faced, yet thus was slain,
the gates were breached and walls cast down,
as vapours coiled in shadow's gown.
Our chambers deep were all laid bare
for such a prize was Morgoth's dare,
the Silmarils he stole in hand
and thus he fled his enemies land.

The cups of woe we drank that day
drained to the dregs in sadness grey,
the horror and grief assailed our hearts
made true our fears by dreadful arts.
Confused in heart, mistrust in mind
our bitter ire, our thoughts unkind,
to seek revenge for merciless deeds
that fouled our land with evil seeds.
Thus Feanaro named his foe
who etched our hearts with gloom and woe,
who razed our lands with grief and fear
whose malice, hatred had no peer.
Then grieving prince fled through the night
past mournful lands of shadowy blight,
and came upon his broken gates
where strewn walls cast their stony weights.
With grief unfathomed staggered forth
through ruined halls raised in the north,
his faltering steps halt at that place
where lay the king by dint of mace.
His wail arose that haunted hearts,
and strickened ears like piercing darts,
a swoon of grief, a fevered faint
lay long near death by sorrows taint.
Beyond all hope he rose again
awakened eyes bore seething pain,
his heart was stoned, his mood was cold
his brooding thoughts thereafter bold.
With anger that our vengeance sent,
defied we then our banishment,
and thus returned to Tirion's halls
to stand before the blood lit walls.
With fiery words our grief would shore
we coaxed a will to march to war,
and leave behind the timeless halls,
the glittering meads, the silvery falls.
So great a hate misfortune bred
that roused a madness, anger fed,
an Oath of rage was therefore sworn
of heated words all pity shorn.
Yet Oath so sworn is etched in fate
our chosen paths its doom would sate,
our words were fell to mould harsh deeds
to feed our claim and suit our needs.
Proclaimed were words the wise would rue,
those uttered staves would have their due,
the Valar wise we gave them blame
and turned our backs, to folly's gain.

The first of lives our swords then slew,
our seaward kin by waters blue,
those deeds upon us set a blight,
an evil sin beset our flight.
Our terrible deeds we've none to blame
for works of malice we'd set aflame,
Our hearts and minds are clouded through,
all hopes are wrought with dismal hue.
Our princely lives are grimly charmed
yet dreams are lost, our goals are harmed,
seldom content in who we are
all that is good, our hands would mar.
The Curse that lingers overhead,
curtails our joy and doubt is fed,
would crush all hope of planned success,
despair its ploy, its smile our stress.
Yet still our people follow us
steadfast and true, pledged us their trust,
for them whatever may betide
in fell resolve, in war shall strive.
For gruesome is the need so asked
a dire revenge their hands are tasked,
thus harden all your darkened hearts,
to rueful deeds of dreadful arts.
Our quest which deemed of worthy note
shall garner shame the Curse did quote,
as all is done in vengeance name,
an elvish work of hateful fame.
O' Feanaro kingly son
bear witness as your will is done,
as pitiless your dark desire,
wrought of a hate and perilous fire.
Look now upon your dwindled folk,
who serve as chained to your fell yoke,
and feed their swords, and guide their thrust,
our evil deeds are in your trust.

The chanting ceased and a grand silence permeated all about the fortress, save the quiet whisperings of the night breeze. The elves all stood with downcast faces and none looked up as Maglor gently pushed past the throng that surrounded him and disappeared under the arched arcaded walkway. He had sung his piece and now left them to contemplate his forlorn words. Yet even as he would enter the fortress, a tall shadow barred his way forward. He looked up into the piercing eyes of Maedhros. They stood so for a moment, with Maglor expecting a swift rebuke yet Maedhros remained silent, his gaze betraying nothing of his thoughts. Maglor, evermore agitated under his brother's steely glint opened his mouth to say something but Maedhros suddenly stepped aside. It were plain he wanted no explanation. Maglor bowed his head and passed him by.

Upon the balcony, Celegorm roused himself from the song's mesmerising enchantments. Maglor's song was laden with the sorrowful reflection that was the lament of a weary prince, forced on by a grim fate to do deeds that were undeniable to his will. Celegorm's initial response to Maglor's song was of anger, yet he came to secretly admit that deep, deep down he also felt the same way. Yes, even him of strong conviction and unwavering purpose.

He too knew of the growing frustration with the deeds he was forced to do because of his Oath, just as he wearied of the long shadow of his father that cast itself over his thoughts, goading him on to hold to their Oath and avenge him, no matter the dire consequence.
He stopped himself then, guilt-ridden that he should be thinking so, yet he had been overly honest that night, with Ravenne and with himself and these truthful notions now came freely to his mind. Perhaps he should not feel so bad as honesty was to the good. Yet he felt confused and overwhelmed by the night's events and desperately wanted to retire in peace. He sighed and looked up to find Ravenne watching him with grey unflinching eyes that gave away nothing of what she was thinking. He made as if to say something to her but abruptly turned away and made his way back to his quarters.

Amrod, Curufin and Caranthir turned to look at each other. "Did I not say that we shall not like what we are to hear," said Caranthir. "Macalaure has set a cloud of melancholy over all at the worst possible time. Look at our people who are meant to march to war at first light with high spirits and assured purpose."

His dark gaze swept over the heads of the masses below. Many in the courtyard began moving away slowly with downcast faces. None spoke as each seemed deep in disheartened thought, pondering on their past, present and future deeds that now seemed more questionable than ever. A potent doubt was in the air.

"He should not have done this," Caranthir continued. "If Macalaure has his doubts or regrets, let him ponder in silence rather than sing aloud for all to hear, influencing our people through the power of song to lose hope and question themselves. They shall need all their courage and conviction in this endeavour but he has now set us back with his lament."

"Yet it may not be a bad thing to air ones sorrows and grief's," said Amrod. "I doubt any of us can truly say we do not on some level feel the same as he. But just as our revealing talk felt good in the saying, so could his song aid in our truly coming to terms with our past deeds and so strengthen our resolve for the present and the future."

Curufin looked at his brothers and put a hand upon their shoulders. "Do not blame Macalaure," he said. "This has been a night of opening our hearts to each other as brothers and as a people. It is a night of doom. Nothing that has been revealed from within or without will change our plans for the morrow, yet we are all the wiser for the revelations this night has given. Find strength and wisdom in that and it should be enough."

The others looked at him and after a contemplative moment, both gave nods of agreement. With that they left the balcony in silence.

Beneath them the elves continued to slowly disperse until both courtyards stood empty and forlorn in the night. The guards banter had ceased, the roads upon the hill lay silent, devoid of any movement upon their grey tracks. Soldiers that had huddled around the bright fires, discussing the forthcoming confrontation with hopeful words now lay themselves down, staring silently at the star ridden sky above. A thoughtful gloom had surely descended upon the hill of Amon Ereb and the weather grew colder as the night wore on. The light of the stars wavered and failed behind a spreading black stain as wintry clouds swept in from the east.

Celegorm wearily pushed through his door, leaving it to close behind him. The candle upon the table now burned very low, with undulating flows of melted wax spread about its stand. The light wavered and blinked as it were caught in the chilly gust of wind that followed the prince's entry. Darkening shadows crowded about the table in which the dim shapes of the room were slowly fading to the night. It was cold as a constant draft came from the open window that looked westward.
Celegorm went to shut it and close the drapes when he suddenly stilled with the thick curtains still held in his hands. He realised he had not heard the door close behind him and so felt the cold caress of a breeze upon his nape. Without turning he gave a weary sigh.

"Ravenne, will you give me no peace this night?" There was no answer and so he turned to face her. There she was, standing tall upon the threshold with a hand to the door. She was all shadowed against the meagre candle light yet her eyes could be seen, glinting in their intense stare. Celegorm knew then that she was far from done with him. He moved to his bed and sat down heavily, burdened in heart and mind.

"Well enter if that is what you want," he said as he lay back upon his bed with legs bent over to the floor. He stared thoughtfully at the carven ceiling and heard the gentle click of the door latch and sensed Ravenne's dark form move to the table where she sat down, facing him. A long silence then passed between them while the room continued to darken as the reddening candle flame whittled down to its base.

"So," said Celegorm, finally breaking the quiet. "No doubt you wish to continue our talk. You asked a grave question which you pleaded me to answer ere we were interrupted by Macalaure's lament."

He paused a moment but Ravenne sat still and silent, giving him room to speak freely. She had said as much as she could on the matter and could only but await his answer. She noted that his tone was direct and sincere. He now spoke from the heart, as a man with nothing more to hide, who would now confront and admit to himself and to her, his true feelings. She realised then that after all these long years, he was going to answer her at last.

"You asked if I loved you as you love me," Celegorm continued, raising himself upright to look at her. He paused again and his stare softened as if he were quietly admiring her from afar.

"You are a marvel to love one such as myself," he said softly. "To love a prince who is cursed. To love a prince who has done terrible deeds and would yet do more against all wisdom, to sate his grim oath." Here he gave a sigh. "Lady, I am an elf of many, many failings. Failings in character and in questionable deeds. You heard my brother's song. Macalaure always sings of the hard truth and this night was of no exception. We are flawed elven princes who have doomed ourselves by our shortcomings. All our dreams have come to naught and our hopes are left unfulfilled. And yet here you come on the very eve of a planned fell deed that would further compound the darkness that surrounds my fate.

Wise maiden, why would you cleave to such an elf? You are among the fairest of the Noldor and many a lord far less tainted than I would be more deserving of your love. You were right to remain in Nargothrond and you should not have returned to me as I will never be good enough for you. How could I let myself love you, O beautiful maiden of the Feanorrim? Could I ever hope to deserve the happiness you would surely bring to my empty life? How can I dare to admit to myself and to you what I have secretly yearned for over the countless years."

Ravenne rose and came to Celegorm, kneeling again at his feet and taking his hands firmly in her own. "You can dare because I dared to admit how I feel to you," she said with intense emotion. "You can dare because there is no other love for my own yearning heart. You say you are not deserving of my love but that is not for you to decide. I know enough to see what is worth loving in you, even if you cannot. Remaining in Nargothrond only taught me that I will ever yearn for who I was meant to love. Do you not see, I was made for you Tyelcormo as you were for me. It is of no use to resist our union or to flee from it and thereby cause more unnecessary anguish for the both of us. I have suffered enough heartache and you have other grief's in your life to bear. But know that be you cursed or doomed to despair, my place has and always will be at your side. Yet we can finally find solace and comfort in each other and together face the hardships that beset our fates."

Celegorm closed his eyes and bowed his head as he listened to her answer him. He thought of their long acquaintance and of how close she truly was to his heart. They had been together through many joys and sorrows and through it all he had relied and trusted deeply in her companionship. Their subsequent estrangement had been a great blow to him, yet he had inwardly hoped against hope to see her again. And he hid well his quiet joy at her sudden return that came beyond all his expectations, masking his relief with exaggerated ire. Yet blameless as she was, she had sought him out to make amends. He knew then that he did not deserve this great woman. This woman of tensile strength, of undeniable courage, of deadly prowess, of unerring purpose, of undeniable beauty, of all-encompassing wisdom. But deserving or not, he perceived then that he could not be forever divided from Ravenne, his true love. He therefore sought to dissuade himself from their union no longer and opened his heart in that hour, letting go of all his doubts and fears to take the chance for true happiness. There would be no more regrets in his life.

He smiled warmly at her, stroking her long pliant dark hair. "Then I will say what you have long known but which I have kept hidden even from myself. For I do love you Ravenne Vanyamore. Long have I denied it, but no more. This is a night of doom, a night of truths and perhaps the very first steps of a new beginning for us all. I would wish to begin anew with you, my love, if you could find it in your wise heart to forgive a most obvious fool. Please tell me that I am not too late. Please tell me you can forgive the countless years of anguish you have endured due to my conduct."

Ravenne's head bowed a moment and when she raised again her face, tears of joy ran smoothly down her cheeks. Her hands touched his face, tenderly caressing his features.
"It is not too late my dearest prince," she said. "If I awaited you for this long, how could I deny you now that you are come to me. My rejoicing heart is forever yours Tyelcormo son of Feanaro. Of that you can be assured."

Through her tears came a smile of such wanton joy that lit her face to an irrepressible beauty that defied the growing shadows of the room. Celegorm cupped her beaming face in his hands and leaned forward to kiss her. He then leaned back, gazing at her with his own smiling eyes. A serene joy came upon him that he had not known before. This is what true happiness felt like. Yet even so a memory unbidden stirred in his heart.

His expression darkened. "Ravenne, I am sorry I struck you. No matter how angry I was, it was a deed unworthy of a man to a woman, let alone an elflord to his lady."

But Ravenne shook her head. "Nay lord. I was as much at fault for purposely goading your anger with words that were sure to hit the mark. It was not my place to speak so to the prince of my people."

Celegorm's smile returned. "Then with your permission lady let me kiss away the hurtful memory once and for all and so heal both our ailing hearts." With that he laid a tender kiss upon her reddened cheek. Behind them, the candlelight suddenly sputtered, dimmed and went out leaving only a fading trail of curling smoke.

Celegorm looked up. "The light fails. Give me a moment to renew it." He made as if to stand but was held down.

"Let the darkness be," said Ravenne in a low voice. "There is light enough here for the both of us."

A darkness of heated passion then settled in Celegorm's chamber as the chilly night outside wore on over Amon Ereb.

~oOo~

The early morning sky was grey with wintry clouds and the winds were chilly and biting. The landscapes about were dull and dreary in the colourless light and the morning sounds of nature seemed muffled in the heavy cold airs. Yet there was a muted activity upon the hill as the Feanorrim were up and about their business of preparing for their march to war. The brown slopes were now bare as all the tents and banners were stashed away in wains. Warriors now congregated about the threshold of the great gates while those with families and loved ones said their quiet farewells. Captains strode by their men, inspecting their troops and knights of princely households gathered in groups, discussing in soft tones the strategies and policies of war. Yet a sombre mood still lay upon all and morale was low. Such indeed was the power and effect of Maglor's lament.

A bell tolled in the fortress, ringing with a lonesome sound from the walled heights to the plain below. It was the final summons for the troops to gather in readiness. Those still preparing themselves in hall or house now hurried to the gates and fell into their respective phalanx that represented their house. Gathered about the hill behind the waiting troops were most of the women and children of the Feanorrim, come to see off their friends, husbands, brothers and fathers. All waited in silence for their princes to emerge and address them. Soon enough, the great gates opened and out came the six sons of Feanor, striding purposefully to stand before the gathered multitude.

They stood in silence before their people, with bright roving eyes that looked upon their waiting army. To the left stood the phalanx of Maedhros, tall warriors with red leather surcoats and a crimson standard. Long spears with glinting tips were held taut in their hands. Beside them stood the fair warriors of Maglor with surcoats and a waving standard of pale gold. In their belts were long silver daggers. Next came the numerous soldiery of Celegorm, proud elves donned in surcoats of blue as was their standard. Their shining swords were long as were their burnished shields. So came the grim warriors of Caranthir, clad in black. Fearful weaponsmasters they were, armed with cold swords and twin axes that were sheathed across their backs. Next were the tall knights of Curufin, donned in silver as was their tall standard. Their blades gleamed at their sides yet many also carried great maces. Finally there stood the followers of Amrod, wearing surcoats of a green hue and along with sword and shield, carried great bows of yew. To the extreme right stood the bold women of the Ohtatyeronissi with Ravenne at their head. They were attired in their usual livery of dark brown and carried their accustomed twin short swords.

Thus were all the princes represented by their troops, yet they differed from how they normally attired themselves for war as the insignias of each house were of the same fiery design. Emblazoned upon the chest of each surcoat and etched upon each shield was the Star of Feanor. Such too was the design upon their tall standards. This was not an army of six princes but a unified force that served one purpose alone; to fight on behalf of their long fallen lord and fulfil his most intense wish, retrieve his Silmarils.

The brothers now turned their heads to Maedhros for it was customary for him to give the send off. He took a step forward and opened his mouth as if to speak but seemed to think otherwise and turned to Celegorm, beckoning to him. After a moments hesitation, Celegorm came to his elder brother with questioning eyes.

Maedhros put his good hand upon his brother's shoulder. "I would utter a few words yet I feel the honour should go to you. It has been your strength of purpose and conviction that has led to this day. Look at our people. They are doubtful and lowly of heart for Macalaure's words disheartened them. I think only you can rouse again their confidence and morale."

Celegorm looked at their army and saw dimmed eyes and many bowed heads. The fires of purpose were quenched by doubtful waters. His gaze passed over to the Ohtatyeronissi and to Ravenne. There she was, standing tall, proud and effortlessly beautiful, defying the dreary morning. There was a radiance about her face, a clear sparkle in her grey eyes. Swift blissful memories came to him as they gazed at each other. Their eyes twinkled playfully as they rejoiced in each other, laughing inwardly in their secret delight. He looked upon Ravenne Vanyamore, daughter of Sailanambar no longer. He now looked upon his wife.
Still, he had to wrench free his longing stare, forcing his thoughts from personal mirth to the deed at hand. But he was filled with great confidence at that moment as his heart soared within him.

He gave a nod to Maedhros who stepped back as he turned to address the army.
"Elves of the Feanorrim! I see a sadness in your faces and perceive a melancholy in your hearts as you stand before me on this the dawn of our march to Doriath. It is clear to me that the words of lord Canafinwe raised doubts as to your intended deeds in the grim endeavour set before us. His lament spoke of our lord Feanaro's life, reminding us of the tragedy and sorrow that befell his house. His mournful words laid the blame mostly with Morgoth, who poisoned the Noldor with his lies before he destroyed the ancient light of Telperion and Laurelin, murdered Finwe our long king and thereafter stole the gems and jewels of Formenos and the very Silmarils that were most dear to us. Yet Canafinwe sang also of lord Feanaro's perceived failings. His reckless ire and seemingly rash deeds. He sang of the Curse of Mandos and the Doom of the Noldor that hampers all our success in Middle-earth. A curse he said, that clouds your minds to do fell deeds that your darkened hearts shall all rue."

At this, many elves could be seen sighing and shaking their heads.
But Celegorm continued. "Well, I for my part embrace all that Lord Canafinwe said."

Now many looked up in surprise at his words but Celegorm continued. "We are indeed a cursed people who have failed in all our hopes and desires in Middle-earth. We live as elves who are tainted with the blood of kin that stains our hands. We live as elves charged with unjust deeds done to our cousins that darken our memories. I will not deny our guilt of these things. Yet one should question the reasonsbehind our deeds and not recollect only their dire consequences.

For did we not have a claim over the Teleri when we sought their support and aid in our decision to leave Aman? In the far past we helped them selflessly to build their fair harbour and seaside houses of stone. Much we taught them of the noble customs of Aman, enhancing their meagre knowledge to that of enlightenment. But were we ever paid for our services? Never! For it was our king Finwe whom because of his ancient friendship with Elwe Singollo, brother of Olwe of Alqualonde, asked us to befriend and aid the Teleri freely, and this we did with glad hearts. Yet when we were in dire need they refused us.
Now let it be said indeed that the Teleri had the right to decline to follow us to Middle-earth, but to deny us even a single swan ship to ferry our people across the sea! Nay, that was unacceptable for by our former deeds as friends, did they owe us even in disagreement! And let it be remembered that it were they who en-acted the first act of violence as they threw our people overboard into the cold sea. We could do nothing but retaliate!"

Now some raised their heads at his words and their expressions became sterner as they remembered the far past. Sentiments that of old had burned like fire within their hearts but had extinguished and were forgotten through the passage of time were now re-ignited by these remembrances.

"And so we were cursed by the Valar," Celegorm continued. "Cursed for a deed which in principle was just. Cursed for being a desperate people whose only crime was to seek for earnedreparations in their uttermost hour of need. Yet that blame we have borne with unwavering courage so as to avenge the wrongs levelled at the Noldor. For though the destruction of Telperion and Laurelin maimed the happiness of all the dwellers of Aman, it were the Noldor who bore the brunt of misfortune. The Valar, the Maiar, the Vanyar and the Teleri could all afford to look askance in their grief but we had lost much more than they.

Our beloved king was slain! The first death by malicious violence in Aman. How could we not avenge that terrible deed! If Morgoth had slain one of the Valar, would not they all have pursued him to Angband, stricken with grief and vengeance in their hearts? What if it were Ingwe our High King or Olwe who were slain? Would it not be the Vanyar or Teleri who now stood here at this very moment, waging war against Morgoth?
Yet also taken from the Noldor were those hallowed jewels that were the heart and soul of Feanaro's works and cherished above all wealth, being priceless by all accounts. Which of the elvish peoples of Aman would have stood idly by if one of their own master craftsmen were victim to such an outrageous theft? Who of the Amanyar would have endured such an affront to their clan?"

Celegorm paused then and looked upon the elves faces. He could see a growing anger in many a glance and he smiled inside, knowing his words hit the mark.

"So here we are, a guilty people in the eyes of the Powers. We stand this day, charged with disobedience to the wishes of the Valar and are seen as slayers unrepentant of kin. I say yea to that, yet we are seen so because we have sought one thing alone that is due to our people. Justice! We have sought for justice when all others have cowered from the evil of Morgoth. You all must see that ours has ultimately been a just cause though the road to our goal has been grim indeed. No thanks to the faint-hearted Teleri and our old Valinorean masters who forced unnecessary misfortunes upon us in their cowardice.

But no matter! The Feanorrim shall strive against fate for we cannot let the ill of Morgoth go unchallenged. And though some would now say that our fight is misguided as we would face the Sindar, I would say that by his silence does Dior son of Beren refuse our jewel's surrender. Yet he has no claim whatsoever to the Silmaril as it were the deeds of his parents that rescued the jewel from the Iron Crown. But did we not honour well the valour of Beren and Luthien while they yet lived? But if Dior deems the Silmaril to be an heirloom of the house of Singollo, he is truly mistaken!
We may not at this time have the strength to topple Morgoth from his dark throne to retrieve the jewels that remain on the Iron Crown, but we shall certainly attempt to recover the jewel that resides in the woods of Doriath!"

There was a clash of spears upon shield and many cries of assent from the warriors of the Feanorrim now. It seemed doubt and dismay were a thing of the past.

"Be he Vala, demon of Morgoth, elf, man or any creature good or evil, we shall pursue all with vengeance and hatred to the very ends of the world, who should so hold, take or keep a Silmaril from our possession!!
Remember those words! Let them be etched in your hearts as you look to the task at hand. Not one of you should feel guilty or dismayed for seeking to redress the injustice of theft that rankles our everyday thoughts. Therefore lift up your hearts O soldiers of Feanaro and let not Canafinwe's lament check your conviction. Let his words rather hone your duty to your people and to your fallen lords Finwe, Feanaro and Telufinwe. In this hour we owe the Valar and Teleri nothing! They failed us at the test but woe be to us if we fail ourselves by reneging on the purpose of our Oath."

There arose many cries from the warriors of the Feanorrim in passionate response to Celegorm's words. He chose to end with a few last words.
"Therefore arise brave warriors of Feanaro! We go not to perpetrate a crime but to end it! Do I hold you all with me in this?!

Spears, swords, maces, axes and bows were raised in the cold air by strong hands and there came a great cry in answer. "For lord Finwe we shall fight! For lord Feanaro we shall bleed! For lord Telufinwe we shall prevail! For the Silmaril we go to war!"

Celegorm turned to Maedhros and nodded as his brothers stared at him with admiration. Even Maglor had to acknowledge his brother's gift.
And so Celegorm came to him. "No one holds what you did yesterday against you. You would say what is in your heart and those sentiments are not yours alone. Yet we are bidden by a fate we cannot deny whether we would or no. Our words of old force us to hold to our vow. And as united as we were in the pledging of our oath, so must we be in the enacting of its decrees. Therefore I would ask that you sound the horn for us to set forth. If you do this our warriors shall be all the more enheartened."

Maglor looked at Celegorm for a moment and nodded his head. "I will not say you are wrong as to our duty to our oath and so I shall do as you bid. As it is written in the tale of the world, so shall it be. Against all wisdom and hope, we go to Doriath with war." He sighed. "Our doom cannot be averted, that I now see."

With that, he went forward and received the great war horn of the Feanorrim from Canyo the head of the knights of Celegorm's household. It was made of ivory, etched with intricate carvings and tipped in gold. Maglor stepped forward until he stood in full view of the masses. They were quiet now but restless as Celegorm's words had stoked their grim passions for war. He looked at them with sad eyes but put the horn to his lips and blew a blast that rang deep yet forlorn; a great cry in silent windless airs. Yet before its echoes had faded, Celegorm strode forward and was swiftly upon his horse Tyelcarocco. The brothers followed suit and soon all sat upon their horses and were stood at the head of each phalanx of their household.

Maedhros it was who lead the army down the sloping road to the plain below. The broad path was lined with women and children yet there was no cheering on their troops. Many stood silent with lowered heads while some gave elvish salutes and others mouthed voiceless farewells to their loved ones. Children at the quiet word of their mothers, cast wintry flowers at the warriors marching feet. The head of the column reached the huge oaken gates of the outer wall that surrounded the hill. The brothers rode out in the manner of eldest to youngest with Maedhros first, followed by Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin and Amrod. Bringing up the rear was Ravenne with the Ohtatyeronissi and behind them came many wains that were filled with the gears of war.

Line after line of warriors marched out and as they trod the open western road, the elves hid their armour by wrapping their grey cloaks about them to become one with the grey pall of the dreary land.
The women of the Feanorrim nimbly made their ways to the outer wall parapets to watch their men fade into the western distance. Celegorm's words were hot yet now seemed hollow for already the melancholy mood returned to settle over Amon Ereb again. Those that remained hoped all would go their way and their army and lords should return victorious but the cloud of doubt could not be gainsaid in their hearts. Nevertheless they continued to watch until the late morning by which time the army of the Feanorrim had faded into the grey horizon.

Here ends BOOK ONE of THE FALL OF DORIATH

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Author's Commentary:

Well finally the sons of Feanor are on the move. I've tried to bring Celegorm and Ravenne's relationship to a satisfying conclusion but it's a tall order to fully render a love story of many thousands of years in just three chapters. But I've written it as best as I could.
As for the lament, I can only say that it shall be my first and last attempt at poetry.
Overall I would say the Sons of Feanor are far more troubled at heart. Feanor wasn't there this time to goad them on with his undeniable presence. They were alone, trying to navigate a fell doom on their own. Even Celegorm who persuaded his brothers to go to war, is a little sick at heart about what he's going to do. Still, I've given their side of the argument, as they might have justified things in their minds.
I'm writing from a neutral perspective. My goal is not to blatantly judge any side but to give the facts as I see them. I think that's the best way to do this kind of story. Both the Doriathrim and the Feanorrim had their legitimate aims but it was the overall will of Fate that would decide how things should end.
Anyway, that's it from the Sons of Feanor for now...finally! The next chapter shall take us back to Doriath to see how things are preparing there.

Book Two "THE GATHERING STORM" is coming soon.