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Chapter Text

Darkness. 

It pressed down around him, a formless shadow full of ill intent.

He fought desperately, trying to escape from the clutches of his faceless attacker but the hatred and anger brewing in the nameless maelstrom was too strong, striking like blows from a hammer, slamming into him in relentless waves that drove him down to his knees.

Voices hissed in the sea of black, mocking him in a language he did not quite understand and he covered his ears to block the sounds out but the void would not be denied and soon he was overcome, forced to curl into a ball as his strength left him and entire being was engulfed in despair and agony.

"Feangol …"

A new voice, soft and feminine, reached his ears and his brow furrowed in confusion.

The name was unknown to him and he feared it a trick, so he shut the voice out, still writhing in pain.

"Feangol …" the voice called out again, stronger this time and he felt compelled to listen.

"Feangol … Don't be afraid … Look at me …"

Despite the uncertainty, he opened his eyes, blinking as a light flared in his line of vision and illuminated the void, drawing his attention, even as the dark voice hissed its displeasure and pressed down harder upon him.

"Rehta!" he screamed, his voice unrecognizable as he was tormented by the darkness as the fear threatened to overtake him.

"Feangol!" the light cried, concern and love weaved within its words. "Come back to me! Do not give in! Come back to me! Come back to the light!"

Despite the pain and the fear, he drew strength from the light and shifted onto his stomach. He clawed his way forward, trying to escape the darkness, gasping as the void hissed and grabbed at his legs and tugged violently in an attempt to drag him back into the sea of black.

But the light would not be denied and it exploded, washing over his suffering form, caressing the pain away as he fell into the arms of a tall, beautiful elf-maiden.

Silver sparkled in her hair, weaved within the tresses of gold and he found her azure eyes searching his own.

"Feangol …" she whispered lovingly, leaning down to kiss his crown.

He felt strength return to him, his heart filled with joy upon being in her presence. "Melda heri …" he murmured reverently, drawing a smile from the elf-maiden.

"It is alright … He cannot harm you here … Not as long as the light of the trees remain …"

He felt warmth then, his gaze shifting to follow hers, fixated upon the glow that illuminated the twilight, finding comfort there, only to widen his eyes as a monstrous shape took form, blocking the light of the trees.

Massively long legs ripped into the bark, piercing the light, absorbing its power as it cast Valinor into darkness.

Evil eyes darted about, focusing on the shocked pair and the form leapt, jaws open wide, twin fangs glistening, ready to devour them and with a burst of strength, he turned in the maiden's arms, shielding her as the form slammed into them.

Pain flared in his back. His body was broken even as his gaze fell upon his companion and his heart broke at the terror and grief that was visible on the elf-maiden's face.

"No … Feangol, no, no, no!"

"No!" Olórin cried, bolting awake. Disorientated, his eyes darted around, the beat of his heart erratic as he tried to focus his will.

This was the fourth time since his travel near the land of Avathar that the Maia had such a troubling vision.

Or was it merely a bad dream?

His own power to give dreams of hope and to give comfort to those in need had done little good for his own worries and doubts.

So he had sought to find rest within the Gardens of Lórien, home of the Vala, Irmo, whom Olórin had learned much from in the realm of dreams and hope.

"Lórien …" the Maia murmured, his ears picking up the gentle gurgling sounds of a nearby fountain, confirming he was indeed upon the grounds of his original home. The lovely song of nightingales and the soft red glow of the Fumellar brought some comfort to him.

A light breeze danced within the boughs of the silver willows that lined around the fountain, the leaves shivering with joy at the wind's touch and the Maia tilted his head back, the glory of Varda's stars still visible. The pinpoints of light brought a smile to his face and for a moment he lost himself in Lórien's beauty and splendor.

Still, Olórin could not shake the feeling of doom that plagued his dreams of late and he shifted, moving towards the fountain and peered down, troubled blue eyes reflecting back up at him. Long blond hair framed his handsome face and he reached up, touching his smooth jaw, confirming that he was indeed still Olórin and not the silver-haired elf, Feangol.

But who was Feangol? Why had the Maia dreamt that he was a wounded Eldar? What was this darkness that had tried to consume him?

His thoughts shifted to the elf-maiden who had rescued him.

Who was she? Why did he continue to dream of her? Why did he feel compelled to seek her out?

A odd pang erupted in his chest and the Maia lifted his hand, resting it above his heart and his brow furrowed. Why did the thought of not finding her hurt his heart so?

Olórin felt the presence of a great power and a fair face appeared in the pool beside his own and he turned, bowing his head, his voice soft and apologetic. "My lord, Irmo. I am sorry for not acknowledging you sooner. I hope I have not disturbed your gardens in any way."

Irmo smiled, his voice soothing and friendly. "Do not worry, old friend, I am not offended. But your dream came to my mind and I sensed your distress. When I could not reach you through thought, I felt something was wrong so I came personally to make sure you had awakened and nothing terrible had occurred to your spirit or form."

"Terrible?" Olórin murmured, studying the Ainu in concern. "So this recurring dream is more than a simple nightmare?"

Irmo met his Maia's gaze and nodded. "It was much more than a dream as it came not from me but from something or someone outside my sphere of influence. Therefore the meaning of it is unknown to me, though the vision is not entirely of a darker nature. The elf-maiden that rescued you in your dream. I feel she is more than symbolic. There is some connection you have or will have with her that will overcome whatever darkness that is troubling you."

Olórin's brow furrowed.

In his lifetime upon Arda, the Maia had spent ages among the Eldar, unseen, giving visions of comfort and hope to the first born of Eru Ilúvatar. He had a special fondness for the elves, learning of their customs and rituals, sharing bits of his own knowledge with them but never had he felt as strong of a connection as he did for an elf-maiden he had never met.

"Then do you know of her?" he asked, hoping the Master of Desires and Dreams could guide him on the correct path. "Does she exist in Valinor?"

Irmo tilted his head. "I cannot say with certainty that your she-elf is in the same form as the one in your dream. It is possible she roams within this land, but it is also possible that she has yet to enter this world."

Disappointment filled the blond Maia and the Ainu sensed it, focusing his gaze on the younger being. "She has affected you greatly, though you do not even know of her."

Olórin looked away. "I don't know how to explain it. I feel connected to her. As if I was this Feangol and she …" His voice trailed off, hesitant to admit to such personal emotions.

"Loved you?" Irmo finished for him.

"But that cannot be," Olórin said with a shake of his head. "I am no elf and even when I use a fanar, it is only a veil. I have never been allowed to become incarnate and I have never desired to become a truly physical being."

"Yet now you feel compelled to ask for such a rare gift?"

The Maia frowned, peering back down to the water to study the stars reflecting on the calm surface. "It is strange, I know. But there is something plaguing my mind. Some darkness that lingers that I feel I must try and stop. That this recurring nightmare is a warning sign of some impending doom and I must take physical form to better understand it's nature."

Concern flashed upon the dark haired Vala's features at the implication of the Maia's words. "You think the darkness that affected your dream is connected to Valinor itself?"

"I do not know," Olórin answered, confusion and doubt filling him. "Melkor is serving his sentence but will be released soon. Manwë believes he can be reformed, but what if it's untrue?"

Irmo quirked an eyebrow at his old pupil's words, surprised at how like minded Olórin was to Oromë, Ulmo, and Tulkas given the Maia's tutelage under Nienna, the Ainu of Mercy and Grief.

True Melkor had committed dark deeds, but he was serving his just punishment. Who was Irmo to disagree with the will of Manwë? Still, something dark was affecting the Maia. Something that Irmo could not fathom or understand. "Perhaps this dream of darkness is related to your concern over Melkor's release?"

"Perhaps," Olórin conceded, though his heart felt it was more than that.

The Ainu's features turned thoughtful. "This recurring nightmare has truly affected you, Olórin. I believe there is something at work here that no amount of my council will solve. It is, however, something that Manwë and Varda might be able to decipher." He paused, tilting his head back, his eyes upon the starlight within his realm. "I will petition on your behalf and together we will go to Taniquetil and in the halls of Ilmarin we should find the answers you seek."

Olórin felt worry grow in his heart. "I do not wish to cause any upset among the Valar with my concerns and distress."

"This could be a prophetic message meant for you alone, Olórin. If it is the will of Eru to bring you before the council of the lord and lady of the Valar, you cannot ignore it. If that means you take physical form to stop whatever might occur than it will be so."

The Maia gave a bow of his head, trepidation filling him, even as he spoke in a calm tone. "I will go with you even though I fear it will all come to naught."

Irmo nodded then vanished, leaving the Maia alone to his thoughts and Olórin wondered how his vision would be interpreted by the Valar.

And so, when the time came for Olórin to depart with Irmo, the pair gathered on the edge of the Garden of Lórien and journeyed East, near the city of Valmar, the musical ringing of the bells drawing a smile from the Maia's more somber expression.

The Light of the Two Trees grew brightest as they edged closer to the hill of Ezellohar and Olórin gazed up in awe that was Telperion the silver and Laurelin the gold.

The Maia was well versed in the origins of the Two Trees.

It was his tutor, Nienna, that had cried the tears that watered Ezellohar, assisting the Vala Yavanna, she that is queen of earth, and whose song brought Telperion and Laurelin's into existence. So he had special fondness for the towering trees of silver and gold.

His joy at being so close to the Two Trees brought back the reason for his journey and he frowned, the image of the monstrous being devouring the light was jolting and he stopped, craning his head back further to study the massive boughs that twined above the trunks of silver and gold.

Irmo sensed the Maia's concern and he paused, turning to walk back to the younger being. "There is great worry in your heart over the trees, Olórin. But we should not linger. Manwë and Varda await us in Ilmarin."

Olórin nodded, bringing his gaze downward, following the Ainu along the path that led to the base of Taniquetil. Here lived many of the Vanyar, elves of fair hair, and the Maia studied many of the female faces, searching for the elf-maiden from his vision, for she would have to come from such a bloodline to have the golden hair witnessed in his dream.

Alas, none matched what he knew and the Maia continued on, just behind Irmo, making themselves visible to the Eldar, singing out greetings as they were welcomed.

It was a long winding road that led up to the top of the great mountain, the trees giving way to stone where newly fallen snow dusted the pathway and more than once, Olórin thought he would slip and fall. But the notion was met with irritation from within his own mind.

He was a Maia and could not be killed by a mere fall.

Silver light illuminated the snow capped peak where Ilmarin, hall of Manwë and Varda, lay and they waited before the gate, entering as the doors opened, stars lighting their way as they stepped forward and down the hallway, coming to a stop before the throne of the Lord and Lady of Valinor.

Blue was their raiment, matching the pair of eyes that watched them approach and the Maia came to a stop beside Irmo, his head bowed in reverence as the Master of Dreams spoke.

"Greetings Lord Manwë and Lady Varda. I trust all is well with you?"

A small band of metal that lay upon the flaxen crown of Manwë who shifted the sapphire staff  from his right hand to his left, motioning out with his arm in greeting, his voice warm and deep. "Lord Irmo, it has been some time since our last meeting. All is well here, but it seems the Maia has been troubled as of late."

Olórin felt the stare of the Lord of the Valar a bit unnerving but still, he lifted his gaze to meet it, his own voice as humble as he felt. "Forgive me, my lord. I did not mean to cause you worry over my affairs. But I am indeed troubled and in need of answers."

"So my wife has told me, Olórin," Manwë replied, turning his gaze to Varda who spoke.

"Irmo relayed your recurring nightmare," the Lady of Stars began, the light of Ilúvatar giving radiance to her beauty as she studied the Maia she herself had named. "I believe it is right of you to worry about the meaning of your vision. It is full of a darkness that is unknown to us as I have never seen or heard of such a creature capable of destroying the Two Trees. The action may be symbolic of the concern you have over the pending release of Melkor. However, that does not mean that such a being doesn't exist. Perhaps we could consult Oromë on the matter of the fell creature. As to the other question of who Feangol and the elf-maiden were, the answers you seek cannot be found here, but I sense you already know what it is you must do."

"You see much, my lady," Olórin replied, his blue eyes meeting her own. "And you know my mind and my heart. It is true that I have lingering doubts about the release of Melkor from his bondage, but that is due to his destructive nature. Perhaps I am worrying too much, but I cannot ignore what I have seen. Something terrible will happen and I know not of any other than Melkor that carries that darkness within him."

"My brother has done many great and terrible things," Manwë began, coming to the defense of Melkor, though his voice was soft and sincere. "And for that he is serving his just punishment. When he is released, he will have learned the error of his ways. He will be changed and we will all be the better for it."

The Maia did not protest, understanding Manwë's reasoning, for his tutor, Nienna, also believed Melkor should be allowed to roam free once his sentence was completed. "It is as you say, my lord."

Manwë tapped his fingers upon the armrest of his throne, features thoughtful. "As to your dark vision, perhaps that has more to do with Mairon. I seemed to recall the two of you did not get along so well."

Olórin's jaw flexed a bit at the mention of Mairon, remembering the time when the former student of Aulë "accidentally" let go of the hammer he was using to forge a weapon for Eönwë, Lord of the Maia. The tool had rocketed backwards, nearly hitting Olórin in the process. The dark haired Maia had apologized but the gleam of malice in his eyes told Olórin that Mairon relished the aggressive action.

A spark of fear ignited within Olórin's heart and from that point on, the blond Maia had avoided Mairon whenever possible. So it came as no surprise when his fellow Maia fell from greatness, following the corrupting call of Melkor, becoming Sauron,  who fled to Middle Earth, never to be seen upon the shores of Valinor again.

Still, it bothered Olórin to have his thoughts and his vision questioned. "I cannot say with certainty what my vision truly means. I only know that I feel …" He paused, trying to find the right words to express what he desired to explain. "I feel that I must do something and I do not believe that I can achieve the solution as I currently am."

Manwë frowned. "As you currently are? So is it true that you wish to become incarnate? Do you really believe you can find the answers you seek as an elf?"

The Maia opened his mouth to speak but the Lord of the Valar lifted his hand in a silent motion and the younger being obeyed, allowing Manwë to continue.

"Valinor is a peaceful realm. I do not think any harm will befall its children. At least nothing to necessitate you taking physical form at this time."

Sadness welled in the heart of Olórin and he lowered his gaze to hide the pain that was upon his face.

Varda felt the Maia's grief and the loss he felt, knowing the compelling nature of his dream and desire to find the one who had rescued him from darkness. She sent up a prayer to Eru, finding the answer she knew he would give and with a soft touch, the Lady of Stars reached out to still her husband's tapping fingers, her eyes warm and her tone gentle as she called out, "Olórin?"

The blond Maia raised his head, noting the look of compassion upon the female Ainu's glowing features and he spoke, though his tone was nearly child-like in quality. "Yes, my lady?"

"I know what it is you desire to do. Long you have been a faithful and humble servant to all who have asked of your assistance. Nienna has taught you well." She paused, her features a bit more somber as she continued. "But Olórin, you must realize that it is no simple thing, becoming a truly physical being. If you decide to become the elf Feangol that was in your vision, your power will diminish. You will age as an elf, feel what an elf feels, and you may even suffer a physical death. It is possible that your memories will fade and you will no longer be able to become a true Maia again."

Her words struck a chord with his doubt and for a moment he hesitated to speak but at last he found his voice and the strength of his conviction was mighty as he replied, "I understand the risks. Believe me when I say I do not make such a decision lightly, but nor can I ignore my heart and my will to follow through with this. I will do whatever is required to find the answers I seek. If that means I must become incarnate, then so will it be."

Varda smiled, sharing the answer to her prayer to Ilúvatar with her husband silently, the Lord of the Valar nodding, though he felt the need to ask one last question.

"So you truly do wish to go through with this?"

Olórin straightened his frame at the sound of Manwë's voice. "Yes, my lord."

"Very well," Manwë replied. "Your request has been granted. Eru Ilúvatar has answered Varda's prayer for you. You will be given a physical form. The form of the elf in your vision. You will become Feangol. Good luck, Olórin. Know that the wishes of your lord and your lady go with you."

Olórin bowed his head in honor and gratitude as a wave of power washed over him, altering his shape. Silver replaced gold, his ears more pointed as solid mass took over his spiritual form. The light of his own power dimmed, though flecks of it remained in the vibrancy of his blue eyes.

He felt sleep overtake him then and he went into a deep trance, straying out of thought and time.

Why am I wet? he wondered some time later, finding his body still and unresponsive.

His brow furrowed at the cry of seagulls above him. Their voices were insistent, as if to prod him to awaken and he felt compelled to bid them to be silent when he felt the sudden touch of a warm hand upon his shoulder followed by a voice, child-like and full of concern, that spoke in his ear.

"Are you all right?"

His eyelids fluttered open, blinking slowly as his vision cleared, finding a girl with blond hair and curious blue eyes looking down at him.

"Hello," she greeted with a small smile.

He recognized the language as Elvish, Noldorin for the most part with a few Telerin inflections and he was pleased he could understand her words, though a small bit of him wondered why he would not. "Hello," he greeted in turn before asking, "Where am I?"

The girl tilted her head as she studied the elf before her.

His hair was silver, like her mother's and she knew he was a Teleri elf. But it was not his hair that drew her attention but the strength of his blue eyes. They sparkled like sapphires, deep blue in hue and full of mystery. There was power in this strange boy but she indulged his question. "You are on the shores of Valinor," she answered, eyes and voice a bit concerned. "Did you fall on your head?"

Groaning, he shifting to a sitting position, wincing at the pain that flared in his head. Reaching up he grabbed his forehead. "I.. I do not think so."

The sound of waves met his ears then, the sensation of water lapping at his bare feet drew his attention and he frowned at how small they looked. Memories returned to him as he recalled a different form. "I am a child," he grumbled, blinking at the soft laugh of the girl beside him.

"You're very astute for one so young," she teased, her laughter deepening at his pout.

"You look no older than me."

The girl's laughter subsided, though there was a twinkle in her eye. "Because I am not."

She took a seat beside him, turning to face him as she spoke. "I am Artanis. Daughter of Finarfin and Eärwen," she introduced herself, making a motion with her hand from her heart towards him, the customary first greeting of elves.

Olórin panicked a bit, for he was not what he seemed and had no father or mother name to draw on. His eyes darted quickly down to the sand, spying a seashell and he mimicked her arm motion, voice soft. "I am Halvon and my family is far away."

"Halvon, hmm?" she repeated with a soft smile.

He nodded, though another name came to him and as he remembered more and more of the Eldar's customs. "But I prefer to go by my chosen name of Feangol."

"Soul wise?" she replied, liking the meaning of his name. "I can see why you prefer such a name. It's strong and true."

He felt heat in his cheeks and he reached up in wonderment, blinking at her laugh and he looked back towards the sea, voice soft, "Your words honor me, my lady."

"You said your family was far away," Artanis said, voice soft as her brow furrowed. "Does that mean you are alone?"

Olórin, now Feangol, smiled. "I am never truly alone," he answered softly, tilting his head back, eyes twinkling with happiness as he began to understand truly how an elf felt and spoke. "The stars alight the night, the sea sings to me of adventure, and the land welcomes me with its warmth. I go where the wind goes and dance to the sound of its voice."

Artanis studied the boy, fascinated by his words. There was something different about him. Something that made her want to get to know him better. "You say it well, Feangol of the sea and stars."

Heat flared across his pale cheeks once again at her gentle laugh and wondered what this emotion was that he felt. A shy smile tugged at his lips and he found her voice and laughter pleasing. "I'm just Feangol. No title is necessary."

The girl's smile remained. "So what else do you know of the world, Feangol? What whispers of the wind and the stars do you hear with your Elvish ears?"

Olórin closed his eyes, focusing his power, becoming in tune with the elements, voice musical as he began to sing:

Long I have searched for the maiden fair

Eyes of azure and golden of hair

The glow of the Two Trees cannot compare

To the towering lady of light and air

Her voice calls to me

Deeper and more powerful than the sea

Though I am far from royalty

I vow to serve her loyally

But now she is far away

So I beg and I pray

Soon will come a day

When she will always stay

I make a place for her in my heart

So that we will never be apart

Oh, I want to go back to the start

Before she had to depart

To the world beyond the shore

To a darkness I abhor

The light of her I implore

To return for evermore

Come back to me, my lady

Stay with me for eternity

And I will love you faithfully

Under the stars and the sea

His voice trailed off, his eyelids slowly opening, finding the intense gaze of Artanis studying him.

"I have not heard that song before. Where did you learn of it?"

Feangol's brow furrowed. "I cannot say. Perhaps it was the wind that whispered it to me."

"I think not," Artanis replied, for she found the song sad and beautiful, the emotion of Feangol in his words and his expression were palpable to her and it affected her heart, though she could not say why. "That came from you, Feangol. The Teleri have the sweetest and most beautiful voices. Why should yours not also be sweet and beautiful?"

Feangol favored her with a smile. "Your words honor me, my lady."

Artanis crooked an eyebrow at the formal usage of his words. "Are you sure you're not from royalty? You talk like a prince."

"I am no one of consequence," the Maia, now elf, replied. "I am just Feangol."

Artanis doubted that but she said nothing, a playful smile on her lips. "Well, just Feangol. Since my mother is visiting my grandfather in Alqualondë, I am free to explore the shore. Would you care to join me?"

Feangol found himself rising to stand before her, finding her smile infectious. She was taller than him and her intricately detailed white dress was unmarred by the sand. The girl seemed not to care that he was dressed in simple brown pants with no shoes or shirt and he chased after her when she tagged him and took off running, forgetting his cares for the moment, content in the learning the joys of childhood.

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And there was the first chapter, longer than the next ones shall be but I hope you enjoyed it. The poem contained within is indeed my own and I hope it wasn't too corny.

Now I know that this last section should be in the end notes but it is too massive and too long for the parameters of the box so I will place it here at the end for those curious about meanings and some general information in order of appearance within this chapter.

Maranwe- Destiny in Quenya

Feangol- The name of the elf Gandalf was in his dark dream and the name he chose to use when granted the physical form of an elf.

Rehta!- Help in Quenya, language of the High Elves

Melda heri- Beloved Lady in Quenya

Two Trees-The trees that lit the world of Valinor. The silver tree was called Telperion and was male. The golden tree was called Laurelin and was female. I kind of think of Gandalf and Galadriel in this way.. Silver and Gold..

Olórin- Gandalf's true name. Given to him by the Lady Varda. Close to the word "dreamer" in meaning as he had the ability to give hope and comfort to those in dreams or in his presence alone.

Valinor- The undying lands. Home of the Valar, Maiar, and the Eldar.

Eldar- Race of elves.

Garden of Lórien- Place of rest and home of Irmo, Master of Desires and Dreams.

Avathar- A land in shadow and darkness on the southeast coast of Valinor.

Maia- A being of a lesser degree than a Vala but still very powerful. Vassals, pupils, and servants for their perspective Vala. Gandalf is a Maia. Spirits that can be seen or unseen and are humanoid in appearance, though they can take other shapes as well.

Vala- A Power of the will of Eru Ilúvatar. God-like but not Gods themselves. Those who descended from the heavens and into Arda or Earth. Very powerful but not omnipotent. Spiritual in form that can be seen or unseen and are humanoid in appearance in accordance to their personalities but can take other shapes as well. Also called Ainur or Ainu.

Irmo- Master of Desires and Dreams. His gardens are the most beautiful of Valinor and spirits and elves come there to rest and find peace. Gandalf originally worked under Irmo before being tutored by Nienna in the understanding of humility, pity, and patience. His wife is Estë and she sleeps on an island in the middle of lake Lórien, by which Irmo is also known.

Fumellar- Poppies that emit a soft red light in the Garden of Lorien.

Varda- Lady of all the Valar and Manwë's wife. Created the stars for the elves and is loved most of all by the Eldar. She hears the prayers and lamentations of the children of Eru Ilúvatar.

Eru Ilúvatar - God. The creator of all. Who brought the Valar and Maiar into existence with his thought and sent the Valar out to create the world of Arda through music.

Arda- Earth.

Melkor- He who arises in Might. The first and strongest of all Ainur or Valar. Sought to corrupt the world and claimed it as his birthright, thinking himself equal to Eru. Serving a sentence for his dark deeds while in Middle Earth.

Oromë- Vala of the Hunt, great in his anger and does not trust Melkor.

Ulmo- The Vala of the Sea who despises Melkor and loves the elves.

Tulkas- Vala of strength. Physically the strongest of all Valar. Laughs in the face of war or sport and fights with his bare hands. Does not trust Melkor.

Nienna- A Vala and the Lady of Sadness and Grief. Her tears helped the two trees come into being. Teacher of Gandalf's. She has no mate.

Fanar- Veil or disguise, not a true physical form

Incarnate- To take on a physical form

Manwë- Melkor's younger brother. Lord of all Valar and he who understands Eru's will most of all. He does not, however, understand the nature of evil and pardons his brother after his imprisonment with dire consequences to follow.

Tanquetil- The highest mountain in Valinor and the world. The home of the Vanyar and the Lord and Lady of the Valar.

Ilmarin-The hall of Manwë and Varda where they can see and hear the entirety of the world.

Valmar- City of Bells and home to the Vanyar, the first and highest of elves. They are the only elves to sport golden blond hair and are closest to the Valar.

Ezellohar- Mound from which the two trees sprung up and grew. Near the city of Valmar.

Yavanna- Vala and Lady of Earth. Brought the two trees into existence with her song and Nienna's tears.

Mairon- Maia who was a student of Aulë before he fell into the corrupting force of Melkor, and became a spy for the dark lord, fleeing to Middle Earth before he was discovered and became Sauron, the lieutenant to Melkor (or Morgoth as he would become known.)

Aulë- Valar of smithing. A great craftsman and he who brought the Dwarves into being. The Dwarves were not created by Eru but he allowed them to live, though they would not awaken until after the elves and close to when Man would awaken in Middle Earth.

Eönwë- Lord of the Maia and bearer of arms.

Noldor- Dark haired elves and great craftsmen. The first of the elves to make armor and swords in Valinor. Galadriel's father, Finarfin, is half Noldor.

Teleri- Singers, seafarers, and ship builders. The most numerous of all elves. Hair colors range from pale blond, white, silver, to dark in hue.

Finarfin- Son of  Finwë, who was king of the Noldor. His mother was Indis, a Vanyar, and through her, he and his children sported the only golden haired Noldor in existence.

Eärwen- Wife of Finarfin and mother of Galadriel. A Teleri Princess and only daughter to Olwë, King of the Teleri.

Artanis- Noble woman. Galadriel's father name.

Father name- The first name given to an elven child.

Mother name-The name given to an elven child by the mother once she had learned of their temperament and personality.

Chosen name- The name an elf chooses to call themselves when they have a mastery of Quenya. Usually around 10-12 years old and up.

Halvon- Seashell. Gandalf's quickly created father name.

Alqualondë-City of the Teleri. Made in a natural rock harbor. Olwë rules his people from here and many ships are moored in it's bay.

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Chapter Text

Y.T. 1382

Artanis laughed as Feangol chased after her, the long strides of her legs keeping her a safe distance from being tagged.

The Maia, now elf, while not as swift of movement as the girl, called on his strength of will and his determination as he continued to try to catch her.

The pair rounded the sudden bend of the shoreline past a cliff, finding a massive pile of driftwood was blocking the way.

The blonde she-elf darted even faster, swerving to the right in an attempt to squeeze around the far edge of the driftwood but Feangol remained true to the straight path, drawing power down into his legs and he leaped with great force over the mound of wood.

The sudden flight made the silver-haired elf's heart flip and he nearly shouted his terror and joy as he cleared the dead branches and landed beside the surprised Artanis. Without thought, his right hand snaked out, the fingertips brushing against the girl's left arm. The touch was faint but it was enough to count and the two stopped in their tracks.

"No one has ever caught me before," Artanis murmured, studying the boy in shock.

Olórin drew in a few breaths, letting the air out in slow succession despite the rapid beating of his heart. The Maia bent forward a bit, hands on his thighs as he tried to gather himself. This body was new to him and he found learning all of the movements and abilities without any prior knowledge both vexing and wondrous. And while his physical form required more energy than his spiritual one, Olórin found he was not tired from the effects and so he rose, straightening his frame before speaking.

"I call well believe it. You are as fleet of foot and graceful as a deer in full stride. It is a surprise to me that I could even reach you, fast as you are."

Artanis smiled at the image as she tilted her head. "You know of deer then?"

"Yes," he replied with a nod. "I have visited the forests of Oromë and the Pastures of Yavanna many times."

"You have?" she asked, curiosity in her voice and features as she moved to take a rest upon a smooth section of the nearby driftwood. "Can you tell me more of them?"

Feangol's brow furrowed.

Surely a princess of the Noldor would be aware of the places within the land of Valinor, he pondered but said nothing, indulging the girl's question as he followed her movements and took a seat beside her.

"Well, the forests are full of trees. That speak to each other of the joys of the light and the rain. When the wind sings through their boughs, they revel in the touch while the wilds teem with deer and Yavanna herself is said to race them often." He paused, noting how she watched him and cleared his throat to continue. "There are birds, foxes, rabbits, squirrels, and other creatures both great and small that roam the forest domain. The streams that pass through are cool and clear, full of fish that sparkle like the jewels of the earth. Of all things, I enjoy the forest the most."

Artanis listened in surprise at his words. "I don't believe I've ever met a Teleri elf with such fondness of land before, nor one to have traveled it as much as you have done."

Olórin features shifted to one of concern, wondering if he had revealed more than he should. Still he could not deny what he had seen and learned of the world. "I find joy in the sea as well, Lady Artanis," he conceded. "But its voice is not gentle. It is strong and powerful and demands much more of an elf than the forest asks."

"This is true," Artanis said, her blue eyes focused on the deeper ones of Feangol, her voice more cautious than before. "May I ask you something, Feangol?"

The silver-haired elf felt worry grow within him but he nodded, waiting for her question.

"How old are you?"

Olórin blinked, his mind searching out the answer within his new body and with a soft voice he spoke. "I have seen 12 elf years."

Artanis beamed, happy at his answer. "The same as me."

A sudden rumbling erupted within Feangol's belly an he frowned, reaching down to lay his hand over his bare stomach. "What is this noise?"

The girl giggled at his expression and the sound. "Seems all your chasing has made you hungry."

"Hungry?" he repeated then sighed inwardly. Of course this body requires fuel to run. 

Artanis rose, holding out her hand for him to take.

Feangol reached out, placing his hand in hers, letting her pull him up. He felt the warmth of her then, a familiar sensation suddenly rocketing up his arm, images of his vision flaring in his mind of the elf-maiden who had held him and in that moment he knew he had found his Melda Heri.

The girl sensed something profound in that moment as well, the physical contact allowing her a small glimpse into his mind and heart and her azure eyes widened, a startled gasp erupting from her throat at the flash of images that crossed her vision. What was that just now?

Olórin heard her voice in his head, wondering whether or not to answer, his eyes still on hers, fear and wonderment within the lady's features and he sensed within her a curiosity that would not be quelled with ignorance. It is a dream I've had for some time. I apologize if I frightened you.

His voice was as musical and pleasing in her mind as it was to her ear and she felt an even deeper connection to him. You heard me? she sent to him, finding joy in his nod and the ability for them to share their minds and their thoughts in a non verbal way. She frowned when Feangol lowered his eyes and she sensed his regret and worry. Reaching out, she touched his face, urging him gently to lift his gaze. Why do you hide, Feangol? This is a beautiful gift. The sharing of minds is nothing to be ashamed of.

It is not the ability that makes me hide, he replied, meeting her gaze once more. It is that I do not wish to frighten you.

I am not afraid, she replied with a smile. I am overjoyed to meet another I can talk to this way. Most people are too guarded to try or lack the ability to share thoughts all together.

Olórin studied the girl before him, taking careful note of her to confirm what he felt.

Her eyes were as blue as they were in his dream, powerful, wise, and strong. Flashes of silver were weaved within the bright gold of her hair and when his defenses had been down in that brief instant, he sensed the growing power of the eldar within Artanis. Someday she would be a great leader and representative of her people and there was now no doubt in his heart that this was the elf maiden that walked the halls of his mind.

Was it a coincidence that he was found by her on the shores of Alqualondë? Or had Eru himself placed him there knowing she would be the one to find him and guide him in the ways of elven form? Either way, he had found one answer to the questions plaguing him.

I am glad that you hold no fear of me, Lady Artanis. I would not wish any harm to befall you.

Artanis tilted her head. The brief image she had witnessed was of an elf with the features of Feangol fully grown, falling into her own arms. He had been wounded and crying out for help and she felt a spark of worry ignite within her heart.

Could it be that he had the ability to see far into the future? Was something to occur that would hurt the boy? She found herself wanting to protect him and she spoke silently her feelings on the matter. I would not wish harm upon you either, Feangol. I worry with you alone like this. You should be under the care of an adult.

I am fine, my lady, Olórin protested, blinking when she kept her hold on his hand, gently tugging him to move with her as they began to walk back the way they had come. "Where are we going?" he asked out loud, keeping pace with her though it took some effort.

"Alqualondë," she answered, her eyes focused ahead. "There are some people I'd like to introduce you to."

Feangol frowned but did not pull away, though a sudden unease filled him. "Do we really have to?"

"Do not be afraid, Feangol. No one will harm you. I will not let them."

Her words and the strength of her conviction brought back the feelings of love and warmth he had felt in his vision and he relaxed. "As you say, my lady."

Artanis nodded, leading him along the shoreline, the sparkle of Alqualondë gleaming in the distance.

The city of the Teleri was built within the natural harbor of rock and they passed under the great arches of pale stone that greeted them, their bare feet leaving no trace upon the white sand that gave way to stone steps the color of pearls. They marched with purpose upward, passing several houses that sprouted around and above the rock harbor, their exterior adorned with a variety of pearls and jewels of every color and shape.

To the right, several ships were moored or tied to a very long dock that that stretched towards Tol Eressëa, a large island that housed many more Teleri.

Fishermen hauled in nets, collecting the bounty of the sea while the sailors sang songs in honor of the ocean that was carrying them away for another adventure in the deeper waters of Alatairë. And as with all places in Alqualondë, music hung in the air, beautiful and free, like the wind that swirled around the pair of young elves.

Artanis moved gracefully as she led Feangol upwards until the stairs gave way to an open plaza, his hand still in her own, and she guided him towards the massive tower that overlooked the city.

Teleri guards were posted in each side of the craved stone gate, their gazes fixed upon the approaching forms of the two young elves.

"Greetings, Princess Artanis," the dark haired guard spoke, his green eyes on the boy next to the girl. "Who is your young friend? I have not seen him before."

"I am Feangol," Olórin answered, introducing himself, gaze lowered a bit. "I am a guest of the Lady Artanis."

"Is that so?" the other guard replied, studying the youth with a critical gaze before addressing the princess. "Did you find him upon the shoreline? He appears to be one of the sailors' children. He looks rather wild and unkempt."

Artanis shifted her gaze, her features and voice icy in response, "Feangol is my friend and will be treated with the respect deserving of one such as he."

The light haired guard quirked an eyebrow but said nothing, not wanting to earn the disapproval of Olwë who was the girl's grandfather and king of all the Teleri in Valinor. "Apologies, my lady. You may enter."

The guards parted, allowing the two elflings to pass and they entered the King's tower.

Elves of various ages wandered about, some full of song, others engaged in conversation, and all shifting their gazes to track the young pair as they passed.

Olórin felt the weight of their stare and he moved closer to Artanis. I believe they disapprove of me, my lady.

It is not you they disapprove of, she replied, leading him down a hallway to her left. It is that you are dressed too simply.

They entered into a small room where a light mist floated before them. The scent of flowers hung in the air and they moved forward, the mist clearing to reveal several pools of blue water surrounded by pale stone.

"These are the cleansing pools," Artanis spoke softly, reluctantly letting go of his hand as she backed away. "After you bathe, I will have some clothing for you."

The Maia was not offended at her words, knowing it was a custom to bathe before being gifted new clothing and introduced to members of the court, and he strode forward, picking a pool at the far end of the room.

"I will be waiting for you outside," she called into the mist, watching as the form of the silver-haired elf disappeared in the mist.

Olórin undressed and slid into the water, washing quickly, rising and drying off with the towel provided, blinking in surprise at the set of clothing on the bench nearby. He put on the light gray undershirt and breeches, tugging the dark gray tunic over his head and tightened the matching belt around his waist before slipping on a set of dark gray boots. He found a comb and drew it through his hair, straightening it as best he could before exiting the room, finding the pleased form of Artanis.

"Gray suits you," Artanis said softly as she watched him approach.

Olórin looked down at his uniform then back up at her. "I thank you for this gift, my lady. I do not know how to repay you for this kindness."

"Having you as a friend is payment enough, Feangol."

He blushed, feeling a bit flustered, and the girl let out a small laugh, holding out her hand for him to take.

Olórin slid his hand in hers, walking beside her once more. "Now where are we going, Artanis?"

"To meet my mother and my grandfather," she answered, leading him down the hall, past the soft light that emulated from the silver lanterns that lined each side, moving towards an open archway and they walked beyond its border, emerging into a water garden.

Smooth stone the color of snow lined the pathways and they walked past one of the many water fountains that dotted the landscape, heading straight towards the table that lay ahead, and around which sat the forms of King Olwë, his daughter Eärwen , twin boys of silver hair, and an older boy with golden blond hair and blue eyes that matched those of Artanis.

A plethora of fruits, breads, cheeses, and fish lay upon the top of the intricately carved wood and Olórin knew this, like the building of Alqualondë, was a gift from the Noldor of which Artanis belonged. The elves at the table turned, watching the pair approach, various shades of greeting upon their fair faces.

"Ah… my granddaughter returns," Olwë called out, his blue eyes as bright as the white of his hair. "And I see you brought a friend with you."

Olórin bowed his head slightly as Artanis introduced him.

"This is Feangol, grandfather. I met him upon the shores of the sea and felt a liking for him instantly."

Olwë studied Artanis, smiling at the strength of her tone. For his granddaughter was gifted with insight well beyond most elves, even for so young an age and he shifted his gaze to the boy with hair as silver as those of his own kin. "Feangol … that is your chosen name is it not?"

"It is, my lord," the Maia replied, raising his head to meet the older elf's gaze.

"It is a good name," Olwë said with a warm smile. The king could see why his granddaughter liked this elf. He was intelligent and well spoken, though humble and calm of spirit, his gaze held within it a wisdom seldom seen among one so young and the fact that they held hands was not lost upon him. "Have you eaten?"

"No, my lord."

"Then you must stay and partake of our food," the king replied, waving his hand slowly to them to come and sit.

Artanis reluctantly let go of Feangol's hand and they took their place side by side.

Olórin ate carefully, though he felt strong hunger pangs and he lifted the gaze to find the trio of boys staring at him, whispering conspiratorially with each other.

"What are you three whispering about?" Eärwen asked, noting the uncomfortable look of Feangol, her gaze fixated on the blond boy who answered,

"Nothing of consequence, mother. I was telling my cousins how close my sister seems to be with her new husband.

Snickering broke out among the trio of boys at the crimson blush that bloomed upon both Artanis and Feangol's faces.

"That is not how we treat our guests, Ambaráto," Eärwen scolded her son. "Apologize."

The stern look of his mother silenced Ambaráto's laughter and he cleared his throat. "Sorry," the blond elf grumbled, looking down at his plate only to snap his head back up when his sister spoke.

"It's quite alright, mother," Artanis said after regaining her composure. "I expect no less from a child."

"Child?" Ambaráto said in incredulity. "You're younger than I am!"

"Age does not always dictate wisdom," the girl retorted, regarding him haughtily. "Nor power. Or did you forget who outsmarted you at hide and seek?"

"Power had nothing to do with that!" Ambaráto snapped, features twisting into a look of indignation. "You tricked me!"

"Children please," Eärwen said in a deceptively soft tone "Do not fight. It matters not who is better than the other. You are loved equally."

"Hmph…" Ambaráto sounded out, crossing his arms though he said no more.

"Nerwen, I am surprised at you," Eärwen spoke, using the name she had given her only daughter. "You should act more lady-like. Especially in front of your friend." The silver-haired swan maiden paused, looking over to Feangol. "I apologize for my family's behavior. If I didn't know better, I would say that my daughter is trying to show off."

The young she-elf blushed again, her voice contrite. "I am sorry, Feangol."

Olórin blinked as he watched everything unfold, surprised at how temperamental elf children were. Having never been a child himself, the Maia had no knowledge of how to behave. "I am not offended," he found himself replying as he looked down at his plate. "I am honored at the privilege of being in the presence of Artanis and her family."

Olwë studied the boy with silent approval, sharing a look with his daughter. There was something different about this elf. A quiet strength and force of will that belied his youthful stature and he found himself asking, "Tell me of your family, Feangol."

Olórin kept his gaze downward, his mind scrambling to come up with an answer, surprised when Artanis spoke.

"His family is far away, grandfather. He is all alone."

"Alone?" the king repeated, studying the boy with surprised eyes. "Is this true, Feangol?"

"Yes, my lord," the silver-haired elf answered. "They were swept away by one of Ossë's great storms. I am alone and have been for some time now."

"I am sorry, young one," the king of the Teleri replied, knowing the power and loss that could come from one of the Water Maia's great storms. "It is not right for you to grow up alone," he added, features thoughtful. "We shall have to find a place for you here."

"Could he not stay with us?" Artanis asked, looking at her grandfather. "He could learn much if he returned to Tirion with me."

"Hmm… Perhaps…" Olwë said. "Though as a Teleri Elf he should learn among his own people."

"Is mother not also Teleri? Are my brother and I not part Teleri? Can we not teach him the ways of the world?"

The king smiled at the quick mind of his granddaughter. "Your words are also true, Nerwen." Turning to the silver haired elf, he asked, "What do you think of all this, Feangol?"

A swirl of emotions filled the Maia. His mind knew that the correct answer was to stay among the Teleri, but his heart.. well.. his heart knew that his destiny as an elf was entwined with that of Artanis and he spoke in a clear voice. "I would like to remain with Lady Artanis, my lord. If that is permissible."

The white haired king looked over at his daughter. "And your thoughts, Eärwen? Would Finarfin approve?"

"A good question," Eärwen answered, looking at the pair of elves. "I cannot say for certain what my husband would think of such an arrangement. But I can tell that my daughter is found of you, Feangol, and you of her."

The Maia smiled at her words, though inside he knew what the answer would be when the lady spoke once more.

"However, my father is right. Feangol should remain with the king until he is of age to travel on his own."

"But mother.." Artanis protested, going silent at the older elf's look.

"It is for the best, Nerwen," the Teleri princess replied. "I know your mind and I understand what you feel. But Feangol is a Teleri, as I am. He needs to learn of our ways first. Then he may come and stay awhile and learn of your father's. It will help with relations between our people."

"Pragmatic as always, my daughter," Olwë said, noting the sadness upon the two youth's fair features. "Do not worry, young ones," he addressed them in a soft tone. "My daughter does not plan to leave for some time. And even when she departs, you will not be apart for long, I promise."

"It will be as you say, my lord," Olórin murmured, hearing the voice of Artanis in his head.

This is most unfair.

It is alright, my lady, he sent back. We are friends and always will be. Nothing can change that truth. Or the truth of our hearts.

Artanis took comfort in his words and presence, reaching out under the table to take his hand in hers, her eyes on his. Thank you, Feangol.

The Maia, now elf, looked down at their entwined hands and felt his heart warm even more to be close to her. You are most welcome, my lady.

Sometime later, Feangol was led to a room of his own within the tower. Though small, he was grateful for the shelter and the promise of tutelage from the King himself and he thanked his host before entering the room. The Maia sat down upon the edge of the bed, his thoughts revolving around to the events that had led him to Artanis. The warm smile of her face was the last thing he remembered before sleep took him, drawing him into the land of dreams and the promise of an uncertain future.

Chapter Text

YT 1383

"Feangol?" Artanis whispered softly, drawing the attention of Olórin away from the stars that twinkled above the top of the tower where the pair lay side by side.

"My lady?"

The girl's features brightened at his musical tone.

In the year they had spent together in Alqualondë, she had grown to understand the boy's heart and mind. Their friendship had blossomed to the point they became nearly inseparable. Artanis had found peace in his presence and power in his eyes and words. He was humble and patient, full of life and song, and she relished every moment spent in his company. To hear his voice in her mind brought untold joy to her heart and she cared deeply for the silver-haired elf.

True, her brother teased her incessantly about how close she was with Feangol, but she cared not. The boy was her friend and if someday, when they were both of age, he became more than that to her, Artanis would not mind in the least. Still, the time was quickly approaching when she would return home and a looming sadness grew in her heart at the prospect of leaving his company.

"Soon I will have to depart for Tirion and I find the thought depressing." She paused, shifting her gaze towards him, biting her lip a bit when she asked, "Is it wrong of me to want to stay?"

Olórin studied the girl with soft eyes. The year had passed all too quickly for his liking and though he enjoyed learning what it was to be a Telerin Elf, he relished every moment spent with Artanis. The thought of her leaving filled him with grief. "I.. I do not think it is wrong to want to stay, Artanis," he answered, his brow furrowed deeply at the sudden stabbing pain that erupted within his heart, and he lifted his hand, resting it against his own chest to try to calm the swirl of emotions growing within him. "My heart does not wish you to go. I do not want you to go."

Artanis saw the pain flash across the boy's features and she reached out to rest her hand over his. "I do not want to go, Feangol. I fear leaving you will break my heart."

He felt the warmth of her hand over his, his voice barely a whisper above the wind that swirled past. "But my mind understands that you cannot remain here forever and that your home is in Tirion with your father. He must miss you."

The girl favored him with a tender smile, her hand upon his. "Wise as always, Feangol. What you say is true." Shifting her gaze back to the sky she spoke softly, "The stars are always so beautiful. Could you tell me the story again of how the stars came into being?"

Olórin turned his head slowly away from Artanis, his bright blue eyes studying the skylight above, voice musical and sweet as he began to sing:

Before the words were sung

And the creation of Arda begun,

There was an endless night

Until Elentári, Queen of Light

Sang the stars into being

Mighty she was and far seeing

For she knew the elves would soon awaken

Upon the fair shores of Cuiviénen

And they would need a guide,

A light only she could provide

So she sang in a voice strong and clear

And pinpoints of silver began to appear

To drive away the darkness of night

With her love and her might

She created the stars in heaven

So that those who are elfin

Would no longer fear

The darkness that hovered near

And so the stars remain today

Their power will never fade away

For those that love the light

Varda's stars will always glow bright

Artanis closed her eyes, his voice and the words made her spirit and her heart soar. "I never tire of hearing you sing, Feangol," she whispered, voice reverent, "You know so much of the world. Almost as if you were a student of the Valar themselves."

Olórin felt a knot grow in his throat at her words and he grew silent for a moment, wondering if she had discovered the truth of his spirit but he relaxed when the girl did not elaborate and he blinked when she asked,

"Have you ever seen the light of the two trees up close, Feangol?"

"I have," he answered. "And you, my lady? Have you ever witnessed the power of Telperion and Laurelin?"

Artanis smiled as her eyelids fluttered closed. "Once, long ago. I went with grandmother to visit her father in Valmar. I remember the silver glow of Telperion as it gave way to the golden light of Laurelin. I remember feeling warm and safe in the presence of their brightness." She paused, voice sleepy as she added, "Your hair reminds me of Telperion's, silver and beautiful."

He felt heat bloom across his features at her praise, the loving tone making his heart flutter a bit and he sung his response softly to her. "And yours reminds me of Laurelin's. Golden and bright as the stars of night."

The girl had gone quiet and for a moment, Olórin thought he had said something wrong. But the soft, steady breathing signaled only that Artanis had fallen into a light sleep and he cleared his throat, reluctantly moving her hand from his as he reached out to shake the girl's shoulder.

"Artanis…."

"Mmm?"

"I think it's time to go back downstairs."

The girl's brow furrowed and her eyelids fluttered open. She saw the fair face of Feangol and sat up slowly, taking the boy's outstretched hand, letting him help her to her feet. "Yes... we should not linger. Mother might worry."

Olórin led her downstairs, still holding her hand as he escorted Artanis back to her room.  Once there her slowly released her hand, smiling as the girl turned to speak.

"Good night, Feangol."

The Maia met her soft gaze with his own before bowing his head slightly. "Good night, my lady."

He watched Artanis enter her room then pivoted around, heading back to his own chambers to retire for the evening.

The next day found Olórin practicing at the archery range, for the Teleri were masters of the bow, and the Maia needed all the practice he could get. He stood near the end of a line of fellow archers, watching as Artanis's brother, Ambaráto, let go a shot, the arrow zooming forward before sinking just inside the inner ring of the target, earning praise from Hendumaicon, the King's master archer and trainer.

"Good shot, Ambaráto," he said, his green eyes shifting to focus on the next archer, Alacion, cousin to Artanis, and he let his arrow fly, watching as it bypassed the target and sunk into the ground.

"Hmm.. less power and more finesse is needed, Alacion," Hendumaicon commented, moving his tall and lanky frame to stand behind Halatir, twin of Alacion.

Halatir nocked back the arrow, closing one eye as he let the bow string loose, the arrow flying forward, hitting the outer band of the target.

"Not bad, Halatir, but keep both eyes open for better vision," the master archer instructed, moving to stand behind Olórin.

"Now you, Feangol."

The Maia moved into position, remembering the lessons from his last session and he lowered his bow and nocked the arrow before lifting it and drawing back the string in a fluid motion. Eyes finding the target, he relaxed his fingers and watched as the arrow sailed forward then firmly sunk into the middle ring.

"Very good, Feangol. Keep practicing and you'll soon hit center targets on every shot," Hendumaicon said then moved to Artanis.

"Now then, Lady Artanis, it is your turn."

The girl nodded, her motions quick, precise, and fluid as she set the arrow then drew the string back. Gaze intense and focused, Artanis released the arrow and it shot forward, zooming with blinding speed before hitting the target dead center.

"A perfect strike!" the master archer sang, beaming as he studied the girl. "Your skill at target shooting has surpassed all expectations, Lady Artanis."

The golden haired maiden lowered her bow, smiling at the praise.

"That is enough practice for today. We will continue this at another time. Good day, young ones." The master archer excused himself, leaving the elflings to go about their business.

The Maia was impressed with her talent at archery and he felt there was little she could not do better than him in his current form and he moved closer to compliment her when the voice of Ambaráto interjected.

"That was just a lucky shot," the older boy said in irritation, drawing the ire of his sister.

"I'd like to see you do better."

Her brother snorted. "I could do better than that in my sleep. You're just a girl."

"Then show us, oh great archer, your superiority over this.. girl.." Artanis shot back.

"With pleasure!" he snapped, setting his feet and he grabbed the arrow stuck in the ground by his feet and nocked it back, letting it fly, watching as it again only hit the outer edge of the center target.

Artanis mimicked his motion, her arrow hitting dead center again and she smiled, fluttering her eyes at her brother who tossed his bow to the ground in disgust then stalked off, the twins laughing softly at their cousin's temper tantrum before chasing after him, leaving Artanis and Feangol to themselves.

"His pride is easily wounded," Artanis commented and began to move, heading towards the target to retrieve her arrows.

"Well you did just embarrass him," Olórin said, following behind her to collect his own arrows.

"He embarrassed himself with his behavior by claiming he could doing that which he cannot do."

"Which is?"

"That he could beat me," she replied, tugging the arrows out of the target, sliding them back into the quiver in her hand. The girl turned, studying the silver-haired elf. "You are getting better at your archery, Feangol."

Olórin lowered his head a bit at her compliment. "I do not know if I am cut out to use a bow."

"You are a gentle soul, I know," Artanis began, "But there is power in you as well as a strength that no elf can match."

He lifted his head, surprised at her comment.

As the night before, he sensed that perhaps she had bypassed his defenses and glimpsed at his true form. Though his body was that of Feangol the elf, his spirit was still Olórin, so some part of his true power would remain. Her gift of insight was growing and he knew there would come a day when her mental prowess would be unrivaled by any elf in existence and so too, would she truly know what he was.

Clearing his throat he spoke softly, "I am just Feangol," he reminded her. "I am no one of consequence."

"You are more than just Feangol to me," Artanis replied, her features becoming softer as she added, "You will always be more than just Feangol to me."

He smiled then, accepting her words without dissent. The pair gathered their things and headed back into the tower at the sound of the bell that signaled lunch was ready and they ate quietly before retiring to their rooms for a bit of rest. Olórin then headed out to Tol Eressea to continue his practicing of pearl diving.

He had become fond of swimming but the diving took longer to get used to and only now, a year into his training, did the Maia feel capable of handling the deeper depths off the coast of the lonely isle. On more than one occasion, Olórin had spied a sparkle of white glowing under the surface of the sea but had never dared to go off on his own to investigate what the light may be. For his teacher Airehíthon had warned him that divers always dove in pairs, not only to assist in collecting the various oysters that held pearls of various sizes and colors, but to keep each other safe from the predatory creatures that roamed the deeper waters of Altairë.

Dressed in simple brown pants, Olórin hopped into the boat with the other divers and took a seat near Airehíthon, striking up conversation as the boat began to move. "Master Airehíthon, I've been meaning to ask you something that has puzzled me since I first started diving."

The dark haired Teleri turned his gaze to focus on the young elf, his brown eyes curious as he spoke, "What is it that troubles you, Feangol?"

"It's about that light I can see under the water. Do you know what the source of that glow is? I've never seen anything like it before."

The diving master tilted his head. "Ah… you must be talking about one of the Nemmirils," he answered, elaborating at the boy's confused expression. "A water jewel, as clear and pure as the sea that surrounds it. They are the remnants of jewels mined by the Noldor, carried away by the swift waters of the Itila that cut around Tirion. The water drops down then travels rapidly towards the sandy shoreline where the mouth opens into the deeper waters of Alatiarë."

"Has anyone ever captured one of these jewels before?"

"A few have, yes. Mostly young males wanting to impress their sweethearts by gathering a rare jewel from the bosom of the sea. But it is a dangerous task, especially the Nemmiril you have seen."

"Why is it dangerous?"

"Because it is guarded by a large creature with very sharp teeth," the diving master replied, his voice becoming a bit more stern. "That beast is nothing to trifle with. Your goal is to gather oysters and bring them to the boat with your partner, not to venture off on your own. Lady Artanis would not forgive me if any harm came to you."

Olórin frowned but nodded, not wanting to upset his teacher. But the idea of gathering such a rare jewel for his Melda Heri as a going away gift weighed heavily on his mind, even as the boat came to a stop and was anchored. The Maia took the small bag and the diving knife handed to him, moving towards the edge of the boat.

He lifted the hilt to his mouth, biting down on it as he dove into the water, swimming swiftly downward, his partner, a sailor's son named Sereär, to his left and they communicated by hand signals, reaching the bottom. They used the knife to loosen sand and protect their hands from being sliced by broken shells, gathering the oysters as quickly as they could then placed them into the bags before surfacing again and grabbing new bags in the process.

Once finished in one section, they moved on to another, edging closer to that white light that glimmered bright enough to be seen on the surface. Olórin repeated the process again, diving down, gathering oysters, placing them in the bag, but this time, he did not rise with the others, drawn to that white light that seemed to call to him.

The Maia swam towards it then down spying the large, clear jewel unmarred by any elf's touch,  half buried in the sand before an open hole in the reef.

Reaching up, Olórin grabbed hold of the hilt of his diving knife and carefully worked the jewel up and out of the sand. Grabbing hold of it, he grinned in triumph, snapping his head up as a sudden shadow passed overhead. He saw the sleek shape turn and circle around again, sensing the beast's black eyes study him with malice and anger and the Maia knew he was in trouble.

Chapter Text

YT 1383

Artanis awoke to a feeling of trepidation, her mind filled with an image of Feangol in distress and she leapt from her bed, marching down the hall, heading straight for her friend's room. Her steps slowed at the sight of the door partly open and she tapped on it gently before poking her head around the side.

"Feangol?" she called out as she peered into the room. When no answer came, the girl backed away, stalking quickly down towards the main hall , her eyes searching frantically for some sign of the silver haired elf.

A guard noted the girl's distress and he called out softly to her, "Are you alright, Lady Artanis?"

She stopped at the sound of the dark haired guard's voice, her own as calm as she could manage, though worry marred her features. "I'm looking for Feangol. Do you know where he could have gone?"

The guard's expression turned thoughtful. "I do believe he headed over to Tol Eressëa for instruction on pearl diving with Airehíthon."

"Thank you," Artanis said quickly, racing out the tower and down the steps of Alqulondë.

She headed straight to the pier that stretched towards the lonely isle and found a boat about to embark and she called out, "Are you heading to Tol Eressëa ?"

"I am," the dark haired mariner replied, his green eyes focused down on the girl. "Are you in need of travel to its shores, my lady?"

Artanis hesitated for a moment. If she went to the island without informing her family, she could be in trouble.

But if I do not follow the feeling in my heart that Feangol is in danger and something happens to him, I could not live with myself.

Resolve bloomed across her face and she nodded, climbing up the ladder thrown over the side, accepting the older elf's hand. "Thank you," she said, straightening her frame as she introduced herself. "I am Artanis, daughter of Eärwen and Finarfin."

"I am Arhestion, son of Arhesto and Nyellewen," the dark haired elf returned, lowering his arm to his side. "What drives you to head to the lonely isle?" he asked, the other elves around him tending to the sails as the wind billowed the cloth outward, moving the ship along and away from the pier.

"My friend is with Airehíthon, practicing pearl diving and I …" she started then stopped, brow furrowed as she pondered how to explain the situation. "I feel he is in some peril. I need to know he is alright."

Arhestion smiled, studying the girl. The lady was fond of her friend, he could tell, and so he did his best to ease her concern. "I know the dive master you speak of. His boat would be anchored off the shores of Avallónë. We can head directly there if you desire so."

Artanis bowed her head slightly. "I thank you master Arhestion, for your kindness. I do indeed wish to head in that direction."

The older elf smiled, looking up at the billowing sails. "It will not take us long, my lady. Do not worry. I am certain your friend will be fine."

Artanis did not share the sentiment but she remained silent, watching as the island grew closer.

The ship rounded Tol Eressëa, sailing towards the Eastern side of the shoreline. She moved to the bow of the ship, her elvish eyes spying in the great distance a lone boat anchored in the calm sea. Several elves were visible but none matched the features of Feangol and her anxiety grew as she noticed them leaning over the sides as if searching for something or someone.

Panic seized her and she called out to him with her mind, hoping she could reach him.

Meanwhile, below the surface of the sea, Olórin kept his gaze on the blue tinged predator circling above his head. In his left hand he clutched the clear Nemmiril, its glow the only comfort afforded him. He lifted in his right hand, grip tight on the hilt of his diving knife as he took a defensive position, his eyes following the creature's motions.

The Maia's lungs were beginning to burn and he knew he would have to surface soon or drown.

Feangol?! Feangol can you hear me?!

The voice of his Melda Heri reached his mind and Olórin's eyes widened a bit at the distress he could hear in her words. Yes, my lady. I can hear you.

Relief was evident in her voice as he heard her send back,

Thank the Valar. I've been worried. Are you alright?

I am fine, my lady, he lied, not wanting to frighten her. Where are you?

Aboard a ship near Tol Eressëa. We are heading towards your boat. Why have you not resurfaced?

Anxiety grew in the Maia's heart. He could not avoid the truth with her so near.

Focusing his thoughts he sent back, I am sorry, my lady, for the delay. I will be up shortly.

The pain was growing in his lungs and he had no choice but to attempt to surface.

Sliding the Nemmiril in his pocket and keeping the knife in his right hand, the Maia pushed off the sandy bottom, wincing at the sudden pain that flared along the sole of his foot. He kicked up with all his might, clouded water forming behind him and Olórin sensed the anger intensify from the sleek beast.

Looking down, his features grew pale as the predator darted up, jaws open wide, row upon row of razor sharp teeth visible, ready to shred him into pieces and Olórin swam to the right at the last second, his cry muffled by the water as the beast slammed into him, the knife knocked out of his hand from the force of the blow, its coarse skin scraping against the fragile flesh of the Maia.

Olórin turned and bolted up towards the surface, his lungs screaming for air and his body aching from the damage and he burst out of the water, eyes darting about frantically, spying the dive master's boat some distance to his right and a larger ship bearing down on him to his left.

The cry of his fellow elves spurred him on and he swam towards the smaller boat, a trail of red water behind him as he increased his speed.

A dorsal fin emerged from the surface, heading towards the wounded Eldar and the elves aboard both boats cried out in despair.

Arhestion frowned and grabbed a nearby bow and quiver set. Standing at the very bow of the ship he knocked back an arrow, his gaze focused on the sleek blue shape and he let it fly, growling when it sunk past the intended target. He repeated the motion, trying to save the girl's friend.

Artanis watched with horror as the dorsal fin edged closer to her friend and a sickening wave of terror welled up in her stomach at the thought of losing him. In her helplessness, the lady sent out a desperate plea to Ossë to save her beloved Feangol.

Olórin swam on, not daring to look back, sensing the beast's mind and intent, trying not to panic at the creature's eagerness to taste his flesh and he tapped into the spiritual power carried within his own soul, lending that strength to his legs and he kicked harder, trying to escape the certain death that awaited him if he failed.

A sudden explosion erupted behind him and the Maia whipped his head to the side. Daring to gaze over his shoulder, he watched in shock as the creature hunting him flew out of the water before crashing with a splash back into the sea. The beast sunk out of sight, the turbulent water calm once again. The dark voice died in the Maia's head, his ears picking up a series of clicks and a gray tinged animal leaped out of the water past the boy's head before diving back down again, followed by another creature and the pair popped their heads out of the water.

Friendly eyes studied Olórin and they clicked their greetings before swimming on either side of the elf, escorting him towards the smaller boat, keeping him safe until he could be picked up by his people.

The elf was tugged up and into the dive master's boat and Olórin looked over the side as the twin dolphins popped their heads out. Flapping their flippers the made a series of clicking sounds in their hope he would be okay and the Maia nodded his response. "Thank you," he called out, voice weaker than it should be and he lay still as the boat began to move.

On the other ship, Arhestion lowered his bow as he watched the scene unfold, marveling at the timely intervention of the dolphin pair, his green eyes shifting over to Artanis who seemed transfixed on her friend. Following her gaze he noted the dolphins nudging the elf called Feangol up to the boat before disappearing once more under the surface of the water. "Your friend is very lucky to have survived an attack from a sharp tooth."

The lady kept his gaze forward. "Yes, he is," she commented quietly, though inside her heart hammered in her chest and her knees trembled.

She had nearly lost her friend today and the emotional weight was bearing down hard upon her body as she gripped the rail of the ship, calling out with her mind, Feangol? Are you alright?

The Maia lay quietly on the bottom of the boat, trying to process the different sensations, committing them to memory. He had never been cut before, had never felt true physical pain and found he could manage if he focused on something else. So he looked up at Airehíthon, feeling regret at the scowl upon the dive master's features. Olórin knew that he had disappointed his teacher but said nothing, waiting to see what the dive master would do.

Airehíthon's anger at the boy's actions fled at the sight of the raw wounds, his scowl morphing into a look of concern at the puddle of red that bloomed under the young elf's foot. "You're injured," he murmured, crouching down to inspect the gash along the bottom of the boy's foot. Flesh was visible, blood pumping out profusely and he set his jaw, voice grave. "This wound needs to be healed quickly before infection sets in."

Lifting his head, he barked orders to put more strength in their oars as the boat headed back to shore.

The Maia's features paled as the pain suddenly intensified and he grew puzzled at the reaction his body had, his jaw clenching as he tried to control the throbbing in his foot and the burning in his side. His eyes became glazed as he stared into the sky, the voice of his Melda Heri breaking though the haze of pain that now wracked his body.

Feangol, are you alright?

Yes, my lady. Do not worry. I will live.

Relief filled Artanis and she felt her legs give way, collapsing onto the deck of the ship, sending out a silent thank you to the Valar and Ossë.

Arhestion frowned at the sight of the girl falling and he came to her aid, helping her stand back up, nodding at the girl's thanks, his own voice loud and clear as he gave commands to follow the smaller boat to the shoreline, the ship coming to anchor beside it and the captain tossed the rope ladder over the side, climbing down before helping Artanis through the waist deep water as they made a beeline for the dive master.

Airehíthon cradled Feangol in his arms as he hopped out of the boat. He waded swiftly through the water, heading for the sandy shore, stopping at the sound of Lady Artanis's voice and he turned, watching the girl rush towards him, worry etched on her features as she came up beside the dive master.

"What are those marks?" Artanis asked, eyeing the angry red scrapes along Feangol's side.

"Wounds from shark skin," Airehíthon answered, climbing up the shore, towards the sandy path that wound around a mass of trees. "It's coarse and can rub apart flesh with enough force."

"Is that what attacked him then?" she asked, skin growing pale at the sight of blood that trailed down the elf's foot, leaving a trail of red in its wake and she gasped. "What happened to his foot?"

"Feangol cut his foot when he pushed off the bottom. He will be alright, my lady."

The Maia's pained eyes met Artanis's gaze, sending out to her, I am sorry, Artanis, for worrying you.

The girl tilted her head, eyes tender. Do not be sorry, Feangol. Healing you is all that matters now.

Olórin smiled back weakly, closing his eyes as he grew faint, his head collapsing against Airehíthon's arm.

Artanis's eyes widened at the sight of her friend going still and she cried out in grief when she could not reach him with her mind. "Feangol!" She looked up at the dive master, tears springing in her eyes. "What's wrong with him?!"

The dive master's features tightened as he looked down at the boy then over to the girl. "It's shock. We must hurry." He increased his speed, Artanis and Arhestion close behind as they climbed the winding trail and into the heart of Avallónë.

Airehíthon raced towards the healing hall in the central plaza, Its dome as white as the pillars that lined the city and he rushed under the open archway and to the robed figure in blue, voice strong but insistent. "Mistress Thambewen! I have an elfling in need of care."

The tall she-elf turned, her blue eyes focused on the silver haired elf in the dive master's arms and she waved him to follow.

Airehíthon lay Feangol down on the healing bed, backing away as Thambewen sat down at the foot. She reached out, gently inspecting the gash that continued to bleed. "This wound is deep and the boy has lost much blood."

"Can you heal him?" Artanis asked, her pained eyes transfixed on the pale features of her beloved friend.

The healer could feel the anxiety and fear rolling off the girl and she kept her voice soft, lyrical as she answered, "Yes, my lady. Your friend will be fine. But I must tend to him quickly." She began to sing softly, the words full of healing power, staunching the blood flow. Thambewen then took a cloth, dipping it into the nearby bowl cleansing the wound, the water turning from clear to red.

Once the cut was free of debris, the healer spread a green salve along the wound, binding it with cloth to allow it to mend quickly. Thambewen then spread the same green salve along the angry and raw skin along the boy's side and once again bound the wounds with cloth.

Rising, the healer turned, studying the people before her. "Your friend needs rest now. We should leave him be."

"I want to stay with him," Artanis replied, her eyes focused on Feangol. "I do not want him to wake up alone and confused."

Thambewen's voice softened. "Then you may stay and watch over him, my lady. But he will most likely not awaken till the morn."

"I do not mind. I will stay beside Feangol no matter how long it takes for him to come back to me."

The healer quirked an eyebrow at the sincerity in the girl's tone. It was as close to a declaration of love as one so young could make but she said nothing, merely nodded and departed from the room, the dive master following close behind but Arhestion stayed long enough to ask, "Is there anything you wish for me to do for you, my lady? Inform your family perhaps? They will be worried at your absence I'm certain."

The girl turned to reply to the older elf, features and tone grateful. " I am sorry for the inconvenience I have caused you but I would consider it a great favor to inform my mother of the situation."

The captain smiled. "It is no trouble, my lady. I will do as you ask." He gave a slight bow and departed the room, leaving the girl alone with Feangol.

So Artanis remained even as the golden glow of Laurelin gave way to Teleperion's silver light, her gaze never straying from the features of Feangol until she sensed her mother, Eärwen, come up beside her.

The Princess of the Teleri cast her gaze from her daughter over to the sleeping form of Feangol, her voice quiet in the darkness of the room. "How is he, Nerwen?"

"He will live," Artanis replied, voice low and weary. "But I worry over him nonetheless."

Eärwen took a seat beside her daughter. "You care for your friend, I know. But there are always risks that my kin face when we enter the sea depths. Feangol must learn this to understand what it means to be a Teleri."

"At the risk of death?" Artanis asked, looking up at her mother.

"You've been raised in Tirion," Eärwen replied, voice still soft. "Danger does not come to Noldor doors like it does upon the shores here."

The girl frowned, looking back down at Feangol. "I hate that he was hurt today. I hate that I could do nothing to help him. I hate this feeling of powerlessness."

"So do all that witness such things as you did today," the older she-elf began, wrapping an arm around her only daughter. "But I heard from Arhestion that a pair of dolphins saved Feangol from the sharp tooth today. Perhaps someone sent out a prayer to Ossë and he intervened on their behalf?"

Artanis heard the tone of knowing in her mother's voice and she leaned into her, whispering in return, "I did not know what to do. I called out to Ossë and he answered, though I am not sure why."

Eärwen looked away from Artanis to study Feangol.

Her daughter had a point.

Ossë was known to be temperamental, reveling in his love of storms, settling down only when his wife, Uinen, managed to calm him. What was it that made Feangol so special as to have a Maia intervene on his behalf?

More than once, the Teleri Princess had sensed a strong power within the boy that reflected in the brightness of his blue eyes and she wondered if he was a lost member of Elwë's clan given the rareness of silver hair among her kin. Her father had often talked of the strength of her uncle who remained lost on the other side of the world.

Regardless of the origins of Feangol, it was quite clear that Artanis was devoted to him and cared about him as he did about her. Given the depth of their feelings, it would not surprise Eärwen if they married upon reaching adulthood.

"Perhaps it was your love and concern for Feangol that moved Ossë's heart to help," the Swan Princess stated before kissing her daughter's crown. "I will be staying in Avallónë should you need me, Nerwen. Do try to rest and I will check on you and Feangol in the morning. Goodnight, daughter," Eärwen said softly, loosening her hold around Artanis as she rose from her seat and left as silently as she entered.

Artanis watched her mother go then tuned to Feangol, taking his hand in hers as she remained watchful over him, even as the stars lit the night before the coming of Laurelin's golden light.

 The girl grew anxious upon seeing the silver haired elf's eyelids flutter open, finding his blue orbs especially bright and she frowned at his groan, watching as he sat up a bit, only to fall back down, her voice full of concern as she spoke.

"Easy, Feangol.. Please don't hurt yourself any more than you already are."

Olórin sighed, blinking slowly, turning his head to the side at the sound of his friend's voice. "My lady… I.." he started then stopped when the girl put her fingers to his lips.

"It is alright, Feangol. You do not have to explain," she said softly, lowering her hand as she shifted to sit down on the edge of the bed, the worry visible on her features and the Maia croaked out in a faint voice,

"You worried over me, didn't you, my lady?"

"I cannot help but to worry," Artanis replied, reaching out to gently brush the strands of silver from his forehead. "I sensed something bad would happen to you and panicked when I could not find you."

"I am sorry," Olórin whispered. "I should have left a note for you so you would not worry but I was too impatient." He turned his gaze away. "I behaved foolishly. I disappointed my teacher, and you."

"You never disappoint me, Feangol," Artanis replied, taking his hand back into her own. "But what kept you from surfacing with the other divers?"

He felt the warmth of the stone then in his pocket and he turned his gaze back to her. "There was something I was searching for and found in the sand. Something for you to take with you when you leave for home."

Slowly he pulled his hand from hers, reaching into his pocket, his fingers clasped around the water jewel and he drew it out, opening his palm, its pure light chasing the shadows of the room away.

He placed it into her open hand, voice soft and loving. "Something to remember me by."

The elf-maiden studied the glowing stone, feeling the pulse of its power, noting the clear surface and she looked away from it to him, tears in her eyes at the risk he took to gather such a rare Nemmiril and she shook her head. "Silly boy. I don't need a sea jewel to remember you." She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

He blushed but returned the gesture, blinking when she pulled back to kiss his crown.

"Thank you, Feangol."

Olórin felt his heart flutter at her words and the closeness of her and he stammered out. "F.. For what, my lady?"

"For being you," Artanis answered, favoring him with a smile. She rose, voice soft. "I will let you rest for a while, Feangol, then I will return and stay with you until you can come back to Alqualondë"

The Maia matched her smile. "As you wish, Artanis."

He watched her go, the pain dulled though his foot still ached a bit.

Guess I'm not going anywhere soon, he grumbled inwardly, sighing as he closed his eyes and relaxed, letting sleep over take him once more.

Despite the seriousness of his foot injury, Olórin recovered quickly and he thanked Thambewen for her expert healing skill and Airehíthon for his patience and strength in getting him to the healing house.

He returned to Alqualondë with Artanis and her mother and they were welcomed back with song and food. The two elflings spent the next few days simply basking in each other's company, content to do little else but speak telepathically. But soon came the time for his Melda Heri to depart and with heavy heart Olórin stood with the rest of Olwë's court, dressed in the gray outfit that his lady preferred most on him, his eyes on Artanis as they said their goodbyes.

"Nemarië, my lady," he sung softly to her. I will see you, soon. I promise, he sent out to her silently.

"Nemarië, Feangol of the stars and sea," she replied, smiling warmly at him, though her heart hurt at the thought of leaving him. I will hold you to that promise and look forward to our next meeting, she sent back as she touched his cheek in customary farewell.

Feangol returned the gesture, reluctantly lowering his hand before Artanis withdrew her hand and turned away, walking with her mother's escort down the plaza and the steps that led away from Alqualondë.

Olórin followed down to the shore then remained still, watching for the longest time, his hand held up in farewell until she was beyond his sight.

Turning his gaze skyward, he studied the stars wondering how long it would be before he would see his Melda Heri again.

Chapter Text

YT 1405

"Do you have everything you require?"

Olórin turned at the sound of Olwë's voice, finding the Telerin King's regal form standing in the entryway of his room.

The Maia slung a bow and quiver full of arrows onto his back, securing them against the blue cloak draped around the shoulders of his gray tunic.

In the decades spent among the Teleri, Olórin had grown in height and mass, more adult than boy, though he had not quite reached his full physical potential. It was a slow process, aging, but it was fascinating to go though such a drastic physical change and he had gained a new understanding of what it was to be an elf.

"Yes, Lord Olwë, I believe I am as prepared as I could possibly be for the journey to Tirion."

Olwë smiled, studying the elf before him. Feangol had grown tall and strong as he neared adulthood, almost even in height to the king and Olwë saw much of his lost brother, Elwë, in the young elf. For he had the strength of will and spiritual power that transcended the limitations of his body.

"Not often do the Teleri venture beyond the borders of Alqualondë but I know you have traveled the realm of Valinor before coming here and that it is now time for you to continue that journey," Olwë began, eyes twinkling as he added. "I also know from the prolific letters sent between here and Tirion over the many years that you long to see my granddaughter again."

Olórin let out a small laugh. "True. Long has it been since I've seen the Lady Alatáriel," he said, referring to his friend by her chosen name. "I am indeed anxious to be in her presence once more."

The Telerin King understood the longing Feangol felt to see Alatáriel. Once a bond as strong as theirs was formed, to be apart for long periods of time was painful. Yet Feangol had seemed to handle the separation well enough, learning and excelling at everything Olwë had thrown at him and he felt a bit of pride at how well the young elf had turned out. For Feangol had become like a son to him and he would miss his presence in Alqualondë.

"Do take care, Feangol, while in the city of Tirion. Though Finarfin is a gentle and reasonable elf, the rest of the Noldor royalty are prone to be very prideful and easily insulted."

The Maia nodded, recalling his observations of the dark haired elves. They were gifted craftsmen but quick of temper. Still, Olórin would make sure to give them the respect they deserved. "I will be careful, Lord Olwë."

The king nodded, brow furrowing as the younger elf turned and  grabbed a sheathed dagger off the small beside table before looping it on the gray belt wrapped around his tunic. "Do you anticipate trouble, Feangol?"

Olórin kept his gaze away from the king, moving over to a small gray bag on his bed, unable to voice his concern at the released of Melkor. Though nothing of a darker nature had happened in the five years since Melkor's pardon, the Maia still felt dread at the thought of the Vala roaming freely, the memories of his vision continuing to hold sway within his heart.

And while a simple dagger would do little to protect him, it gave Olórin some comfort to carry it along. Besides, if he ran into real trouble, it would be the bow that would save him, not the dagger.

"It never hurts to be prepared for any danger that may come one's way," he answered at last, grabbing the bag off his bed. He slipped it over his shoulder as he turned to face the king, offering him a smile to match the confidence in his voice. "But I do believe I should be safe on my journey to Tirion."

Olwë said nothing for a moment, features somber as he gave a slow nod of his head. "I believe you will be fine, Feangol."

The king backed into the hall, allowing the silver-haired elf to exit the room and the two stood facing each other. "I wish you a good journey, Feangol. Go with the blessings of your king and the Teleri. I know you will represent our people well." Olwë lifted his arm, bringing it to his chest before going outward in a slow motion. "Nemarië."

Olórin bowed his head slightly, repeating the arm motion back to the king. "Nemarië," he replied softly then pivoted, walking slowly into the main hall and beyond the gate of the tower. He turned right onto the stone path that led out of Alqualondë and towards Tirion.

And so the Maia began the 200 mile journey to the home of his Melda Heri. The light of Laurelin at its zenith, casting a golden glow along the shoreline. Olórin moved at a steady pace, his gaze focused ahead while his mind relieved the past, back to the time spent with Alatáriel.

A wistful smile grew upon his face, recalling the warmth of her eyes and the strength of her voice in his mind. His desire to see hear again gave purpose to his steps and his pace quickened, light and graceful upon the ground even as the terrain grew steep, sand giving way to grass and trees.

Golden light faded, the silver light of Telperion taking its place as Olórin trekked on, not stopping until the stars alone lit the night.

The Maia took note of his surroundings, his gaze falling upon a rather tall pine tree and so Olórin climbed near the top, settling on the sturdiest bough. Adjusting his bow and quiver, he wrapped his blue cloak around his body, eyes going closed as the Maia fell into a meditative sleep.

A low growling sound drew Olórin back into the realm of waking. His eyelids slowly opened, revealing bright blue orbs that sought out the source of the noise. No creature was visible yet he sensed something was not right and so he drew out his bow and an arrow, knocking it back, ready to defend himself from whatever might be out there.

When no target presented itself, Olórin relaxed the string of his bow but remained alert for any sign of danger.

There would be no rest this night, so the Maia remained still upon the tree bough, climbing down only when the golden light of Laurelin took hold of the sky.

He tread carefully along the well worn path, his senses heightened for any trouble that might appear. The trail grew steeper as the ground gave way to hill and rock.

His eyes narrowed a bit at the cliffs on each side of the trail and he paused a bit, listening to the wind as it swept around him. Something large had been following him most of the day, its steps as silent as the Maia's. But Olórin could sense the creature's bloodlust and he frowned at the dark sound that hissed in the wind, repeating itself like a mantra, foul and unnerving and a wave of anger filled the silver-haired elf's heart.

I will not fear the dark! he vowed silently, moving forward even as his elvish ears picked up the sound of movement to his right.

The song of the birds died and the trees grew silent, a warning that something menacing was approaching and Olórin slowly lowered his hand to the hilt of his dagger.

He climbed up the hill, eyes focused straight ahead to the narrowing corridor of stone where the ground evened out.

A snarl suddenly erupted above the Maia who whirled around and fed power down to his arm, lending strength to his throw as he yanked out the dagger from his sheath, flinging it upward at the leaping shadow that blocked the glow of golden light. The snarl died instantly as the blade struck home and Olórin dived to the side as the shadow crashed, dirt flying in its wake as it slid to a stop.

Bright blue eyes watched as the life left the golden ones of his attacker, the large form of a mountain lion twitching in a death spasm before going still and the Maia felt regret for taking the life of such a rare creature.

Pushing off the ground, Olórin rose then tilted his head up at the sound of hooves, blinking as another massive form leaped over the edge of the wall and he watched as it landed beside the dead animal and the Maia bowed his head at the figure upon the white horse, voice respectful as he spoke, "Lord Oromë."

The Vala of the Hunt tugged on the reins of Nahar, guiding the horse to turn towards Olórin. Oromë focused his gaze, peering beyond the elf's physical form, seeing the Maia underneath, his voice low but glad. "Ah, Olórin. It has been a long time since I saw you last. And it seems Irmo was telling the truth about you becoming incarnate."

"I have indeed taken physical form, my lord," Olórin replied as he lifted his gaze, watching as the Vala dismounted and walked over to the mountain lion.

Crouching down, Oromë studied the dead animal then reached out, his hand wrapping around the hilt of the blade sunk under the jaw of the Mountain lion's head and slowly drew it outward. "I've been tracking this beast for days," he began as he rose to his feet then used his own cloak to wipe the blood off the dagger. Flipping it over, he caught the blade then handed it back to the Maia. "And you killed it in one blow with a simple knife."

Olórin took the weapon and sheathed it, voice humble. "It was a lucky strike."

The Ainu tilted his head. "It was a skillful throw, even as an elf," he replied.

"There was a black voice guiding this creature. A foul word I did not recognize traveled on the wind and in its mind. Over and over again, going silent once the beast died."

Oromë turned his gaze back to the mountain lion. "Many creatures died in the path of this beast," the Vala said, moving over to lift the lion up off the ground before slinging it over the back of Nahar. "Something festered in its mind and made it the instrument of destruction. It killed not for food or territory but simply because it could."

The Maia frowned. "Animals don't kill for the sake of killing."

"No, they do not," Oromë murmured, voice distant. "This is the fifth creature I've had to hunt down in the realm of Valinor this year alone. It is most unnatural." He turned to study the elf. "You said it was a dark voice you heard whispering on the wind and in this animal's mind?"

Olórin hesitated, unsure whether to elaborate why he recognized the dark voice, but reason overrode his sense of privacy and he answered, "Yes. It is the exact same voice I heard in my vision long ago."

"Ah.. that would explain it," the Ainu said, gesturing towards Olórin. "Some vision plagues you, so you took this form to solve your riddles."

The Maia stared at the Vala, surprised at how perceptive he was. "You see much, my lord."

"You believe Melkor is behind all this?" the Vala asked, focusing his eyes intently on Olórin as he waited for the Maia to respond.

The silver-haired elf hesitated for a few seconds before answering in a careful tone, "I do not trust that Melkor has learned from his imprisonment."

"An astute assessment," the Vala of the Hunt said. "I feel this is the work of Melkor but Manwë will not listen. He does not understand his brother's true nature and I fear there is worse to follow." Looking off into the distance, his features turned thoughtful. "You are traveling from Alqualondë to Tirion are you not? Has Melkor revealed himself there?"

Olórin was unfazed at the knowledge the Vala had over the Maia's activities, knowing that the Vala's abilities to see and travel vast distances were greater than his own and he shook his head in response. "No, my lord. I would have sensed him if he had. He seems to dislike the sea and fears going near it."

The Ainu nodded. "The Vanyar will not listen to his words, no matter what form he uses but the Noldor seem to take to his council. If you remain in Tirion be mindful of his presence. He will know what you are."

The Maia watched as the Vala swept his cloak aside, revealing a intricately decorated gray leather scabbard. The Ainu reached down, untying the sheathed weapon, silver hilt visible and he lay it sideways in his open palms, presenting it to the surprised Olórin . "This is Haldanar, a sword forged by Aulë. The blade burns with a white flame that cuts through even the most impenetrable darkness. May it serve you well in the time to come."

Olórin accepted the gift, taking it gently from the Ainu's hands. He felt power pulsing through the scabbard and he looked up to the Vala who understood his curious look.

"Haldanar responds to the power of the user, harnessing that energy then amplifying the effect. For a Maia, the power you wield will be great indeed," he explained, adding, "The Noldor won't be able to see Haldanar when it's sheathed, the scabbard is invisible to elvish eyes, so unless you pull the blade free, it will remain unseen."

Olórin did not question the reason for such a powerful gift, his voice soft and humble. "I thank you, Lord Oromë, for this gift. I will take good care of Haldanar until you have need of it again."

Looping the scabbard to his belt, Olórin turned at the sound of Oromë's whistle, following the Vala's gaze and he spied a gigantic hound emerge from the nearby brush. It trotted over to its master then sat on its haunches, intelligent brown eyes studying the silver-haired elf as the Ainu spoke.

"Ronien will keep you company until you reach Tirion."

The Vala walked over to Nahar, tying down the dead mountain lion before sliding up and onto the white horse.

The Maia kept his gaze on the Ainu, noting that the hound, Ronien, shifted to come sit beside him. Olórin bowed his head in respect, realization dawning on him at the true meaning of what had just occurred. "I thank you again, my lord. Please give Irmo my regards and my thanks for his assistance when you see him."

The Vala of the Hunt smiled, happy that the Maia had figured out his reasoning for helping the elf. "He will be glad to know you are well and thriving as one of the Eldar. Nemarië," he said, raising his hand slightly in goodbye.

"Nemarië," the Maia repeated then mimicked the motion, watching as the Ainu rode off, leaving the hound and him alone on the road.

Continuing his journey, Olórin drew comfort in the nearness of Ronien. The wolf hound strolled by the elf's side, knowing her duty was to keep him safe until he reached the steps of Tirion while also on the look out for any other signs of fell creatures. But no other threats presented themselves and after several days of travel, the pair reached the borders of Tirion, the capital city of the Noldor.

Bright was the light of Ingwë's tower and Olórin let out a breath of relief at reaching his destination and turned to address the hound. "Thank you, Ronien. Your company was most welcome and I wish you a safe journey home."

The wolf hound bowed her head in acknowledgement before turning and racing away, bounding out of sight and the Maia pivoted around, heading towards the many steps of Tirion.

His pace quickened, eager to enter the city to find his Melda Heri.

His gray boots barely touched the crystal stairway that stretched beyond the twin waterfalls of the Itila river that flowed around the city. He marveled at the golden domes of the many turrets and towers of white that sparkled in the glow of Laurelin's light. Finely ground sand the color of diamonds met his booted feet as he reached the top of the stairway. The massive city flooded his vision as he walked forward into the street.

Many sets of eyes watched him pass and he sensed their curiosity at the Teleri elf but he paid them little mind, continuing onward to the great plaza where Galathilion grew tall and strong, it's bark as white as the walls that lined every building. Many times Olórin had visited this city but he knew not where Alatáriel resided.

A sudden sense of her filled his being and he stopped in his tracks, her voice like a lover's caress in his mind.

Welcome, Feangol of the sea and stars.

Olórin turned, his eyes falling upon the tall form of Alatáriel. His heart quickened at her beauty and the warmth of their shared connection.

It is just Feangol, my lady, he sent back, recalling their first meeting long ago. Heat flared across his cheek at her smile as he watched her close the distance between them, her hand rising to rest on his cheek and he returned the gesture, their eyes on one another.

I have missed you, Alatáriel sent to him, her bright eyes studying his form. He had grown equal to her in height, his features and form most fair, like what she had witnessed in the brief image shared long ago and she found him very pleasing to look upon.

As I have missed you, Olórin returned, finding himself lost in her beauty and splendor and he sung to her softly, "You have grown bright and beautiful, my lady. And strong, for I sense the power of the Eldar blooming within you."

Alatáriel smiled shyly. "I have never heard words sung so sweetly as when they fall from your lips, Feangol."

"You should be praised with song, not words, my lady, though I fear I may disappoint you."

"You could never disappoint me, Feangol," the lady replied, lowering her hand to take his own and she led him through the square, ignoring the various stares of her fellow Noldor. A few were curious, others jealous, while a few looked on in disgust. She cared not for their petty emotions. She cared only about making Feangol feel welcome.

So they strolled hand in hand, fingers entwined, past the many gardens and parks that dotted the landscape, the sound of the swift moving Itila growing louder as they neared the Eastern edge of the great city. They crossed a great crystal bridge that arced over part of the river.

The twinkling sand widened leading to a palatial estate surrounded by lush vegetation, the main building now visible, its pale stone walls rising well beyond the height of the many trees that surrounded the land.

Olórin marveled at the architecture, his voice full of awe as he spoke. "It is a beautiful home, Alatáriel. I can see why you enjoy your time here."

"I am happy you approve of it," Alatáriel replied, his hand still in hers as they strolled into the courtyard, stopping before the pair of wooden doors that marked the entrance. "My family is eager to talk to you."

"Your family?"

Alatáriel nodded. "Mother of course would like to speak to you about how grandfather is doing and my father has been looking forward to meeting you."

"He has?" the Maia croaked out, a sudden nervousness striking him at the mention of her father though he was unsure why such an emotion had spiked in his heart.

The lady sensed his nervousness, her voice low and calm. "Do not be afraid, Feangol. My father is a gentle elf. He is nothing like his brother Fëanáro and his sons. He is merely curious about the elf I praise all the time."

The doors opened and Alatáriel entered, guiding Feangol to walk beside her.

Tthe silver-haired elf craned his neck back at the open entryway, spying a glass dome that allowed light to flood the room, brightening the walls, giving warmth as they walked up the winding stairway.

Still hand in hand,  they came to stand before an open archway that led to a crystal deck, the figures of Eärwen and a regal blond elf visible as they sat looking outward beyond the borders of Tirion. The pair turned their heads, the swan princess beaming at the sight of the silver-haired elf while the male elf looked on in curiosity.

"Feangol, It is good to see you again," Eärwen sang softly, rising to greet him properly.

"My lady, it has been too long since our last meeting," Olórin sang back joyfully, bowing his head slightly and greeting her in the formal manner of elves.

"You have grown quite tall since we last spoke," the swan princess said with a happy smile. "And your form is most fair, do you not agree, Nerwen?" she asked, her gaze shifting to Alatáriel who blushed but agreed.

"Yes, Feangol is very fair, fairer than most anyone I've seen," she replied, studying her friend with tender eyes.

The Maia felt heat bloom across his face at his lady's words and the look she gave him, stammering a bit. "Y.. Your words.. honor me, though I doubt I am all that fair."

"So this is the elf you've been talking of all these years," the male elf interjected, his voice lower than the others, though no less friendly as he rose, taking his place beside his wife as he introduced himself. "I am Finarfin, son of Finwë and Indis."

"I am Feangol, my lord. Guided by Olwë and friend to your daughter, Alatáriel." The Maia paused, straightening his frame as he slid the gray bag off his back. "I bring greetings from Lord Olwë," he said, opening the bag then reaching in, withdrawing various necklaces and bracelets made of seashells and pearls. "And gifts from the Teleri King for his kin."

The pair took the gifts, smiling in joy at the presents, taking great care to place them on the table to the right.

"My daughter has told me much of you, Feangol," Finarfin began. "We are honored to have you as our guest and are eager to hear of your adventures to our fair city. But first, let's get you settled into your room. Then we shall have some lunch and discuss other matters," he added, his blue eyes studying the entwined fingers of his daughter and Feangol.

The silver-haired elf followed his gaze then looked over at his Melda Heri who blushed, favoring him with a shy look, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before reluctantly withdrawing her hand from his.

Feangol cleared his throat but nodded, going at Alatáriel's gentle urging, following behind Finarfin and he wondered what other matters the Noldor Prince wanted to discuss that had made his Melda Heri blush.

Chapter Text

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Finarfin turned left from the balcony, leading Feangol down the hallway passing four rooms before stopping before an open doorway. "Since you will spending an extended period of time in Tirion, I believe it fitting for you to have this room."

The Noldor prince shifted to the side, allowing the silver haired elf to enter.

Feangol passed through the arched entrance, marveling at the splendor of the room.

Murals lined the walls, depicting scenes of a great forest. The leaves shimmered in vibrant colors of green, while a deep blue lake sparkled in the central wall and he moved closer to inspect the design, noting that the entirety of color was made from the jewels in the earth. High above, light filtered down and he tilted his head back, finding a glass dome visible and he smiled at the warmth. Olórin turned his head to the right, spying an open balcony and he stepped out, finding he could see the great forest and mountains of Valinor.

"It is a beautiful room, my lord. I am honored that you would grant me such a place of rest."

Finarfin smiled, coming to stand beside him. "It is an honor to have you here in my home," he said, studying the expanse of territory below. "My daughter also wishes for you to feel comfortable and to enjoy your time here in the great city." Turning to Feangol, the Noldor reached out to rest his hand on the silver haired elf's shoulder. "Come. Let us have some lunch then we will talk of things."

The Maia nodded and followed, still filled with nervousness at what the Noldor king wanted to discuss with him and they made their way down the staircase, turning right and heading into a smaller room, where a great table lay in the center. Fresh fruit, cheese, and bread lined the table and Olórin sat down where Finarfin indicated, taking a small amount of food at his insistence, eating quietly until the older elf spoke.

"How is the food, Feangol?"

The silver haired elf took a small sip of wine from the silver goblet, lowering it down gently as he replied, "It is most palatable, my lord. I thank you for allowing me to partake of your food."

Finarfin smiled. This elf was indeed rather humble and polite just as his daughter and his wife had informed him and he could see why Alatáriel was fond of Feangol. And there was power there, reflected in the vibrant blue of the boy's eyes, that could not be denied. Being married to a Teleri had allowed the blond elf to interact with many of his wife's people, but few had the strength that Feangol possessed, even at so young an age.

Yes. He would be a good match for her.

"Tell me, Feangol. What do you think of my daughter?"

Olórin blinked at the question but answered without hesitation. " Alatáriel is my best friend. Even though we've been apart from each other for some years, she has always been foremost in my thoughts and my heart. I am beyond happy to be in her presence once again."

"It brings me joy to hear of this, Feangol," Finarfin replied, smiling warmly at the younger elf. "My daughter has told me much of you and your exploits in Alqualondë. She also told me you have a gift of song and verse that makes her heart sing in joy."

The Maia blushed, lowering his gaze. "I am just a simple elf, my lord. I sing for my lady because it pleases her and her smile brings light to my soul."

"You love her then, do you not?"

Olórin snapped his gaze up, that nervous feeling blooming once again and he lifted his hand, resting over his fluttery heart.

Did he love her?

The longing he felt to be reunited with his Melda Heri was strong and only tempered by the knowledge he would see her again someday.

And now, during their reunion, that deep ache in his heart had vanished, replaced with a warmth that washed over him upon being in her presence once more. "Yes..." he whispered, brow furrowing at how quiet his voice was and he straightened his frame, his tone more confident as he spoke. "Yes. I do love Alatáriel. She is my Melda Heri and I would do whatever she asked, if it so pleased her."

Finarfin's smiled remained, sensing the truth of Feangol's words. "I am glad to hear of this, Feangol, for my daughter has said much the same of you."

"She... She has?" Olórin stammered, frowning when the older elf let out a soft laugh.

"Why are you so surprised? Did you not think she would return such feelings? One would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to not notice how deeply she cares for you."

Olórin's features relaxed at his words, feeling silly again though he spoke calmly. "It makes me happy to know my lady cares for me. My greatest wish is to remain at her side for as long as she will allow me."

"Have you told her of this, Feangol?"

The Maia shook his head. "No, my lord. I do not want to... press her for anything. Being near her is enough for me. The decision should always be hers."

"You are a gentle elf, I can tell," Finarfin began, studying the younger elf. "But there is also great strength within your spirit. You are a good match for my daughter and if the time comes that you two wish to be united in marriage, you will have my blessing."

Olórin felt heat bloom along his cheeks and he managed to reply without sounding like a child. "You honor me with your words, my lord. If my lady at some point in time decides she wishes to take me as her husband, I will consent with all my heart."

"When that time comes we will discuss the matter further. But for now, let us finish our meal then you may go and find my daughter. I am sure she is most anxious to spend time with you."

"Yes, my lord," the Maia replied and once the meal was finished, he set off to find Alatáriel. He could sense her outside of the house and so he exited through the front door, finding the lady sitting upon a bench near a willow tree. He watched as her gaze shifted over to him, an open smile upon her lovely features and she beckoned him to come sit beside her.

"How was your visit with father?" she asked, watching as the silver haired elf gracefully walked towards her, admiring the sight of his form. He had grown much since she last saw him and her heart warmed at the love she could see reflected in the sapphire pools of his eyes as their gazes met.

"It went surprisingly well," Olórin began as he lowered himself to sit to the lady's left. "Your father asked of my feelings for you."

"Is that so?" Alatáriel began, finding the blush on his skin rather cute and she reached out to caress his cheek. "What was your answer?"

Olórin found her touch to his face comforting, leaning into it as he spoke in softer tones. "That you are my Melda Heri and that I would do anything you asked of me if it pleased you. I told him my greatest wish was to remain at your side for as long as you allowed it."

Alatáriel smiled tenderly, lowering her hand to rest over his. "You make my heart sing, Feangol. I do not wish for you to leave here. Not unless I am allowed to go with you."

The Maia looked down at his lady's hand over his own and he whispered reverently, "Then I will remain at your side as long as there is life in me."

His words were always musical to her ears and she leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Then it is settled. You shall stay with me in Tirion." The lady rose, her hand clasping his as she gently pulled him to stand with her. "Come. There is something I wish to show you."

Olórin followed Alatáriel back into the house and up the stairs, his hand still in hers as she led him down the long corridor and into a large bed chamber. Silver and gold dominated the decor and his eyes shifted beyond the large bed to the nearby crystal shelf upon which lay the nemmiril that the silver haired elf had procured for her long ago. The water jewel glowed brightly, bypassing the glass display that surrounded it and he walked over, murmuring. "You kept it? Even after all this time?"

"How could I not keep it?" the she-elf replied, coming to stand beside him. "It was a gift from the one closest to me. From the one whom I love."

Olórin shifted his gaze from the jewel over to her, bowing his head slightly in shyness. "My lady... I..."

Her fingertips silenced his lips and he lifted his head, his eyes focused on the tender ones of Alatáriel.

"Words are not needed, Feangol. I know your heart and you know mine. That is all that matters in this world."

He searched her gaze, finding the truth in her words and he reached up, gently taking her hand, lowering it to kiss the top. "As you say, my lady."

"Alatáriel..." the she-elf said softly. "Just Alatáriel."

He noted the twinkling in her azure orbs and smiled at the gentle teasing, remembering their introduction long ago. "Alatáriel," he conceded, reluctantly letting her hand go, watching as she moved over to sit in one of the crystal chairs near a table and he followed, sitting opposite of her.

"Now tell me of your journey. Did anything interesting happen?"

The Maia relayed his tale, leaving out the part of receiving Haldanar and he worried at the concerned look that bloomed on his lady's features.

"So Oromë thinks this is the work of Melkor?" she asked, noting the hesitation of her beloved Feangol to answer and she wondered if it had to do with his dark vision.

"Yes," the Maia replied after a few seconds. He did not want to frighten Alatáriel with his suspicions though he knew he must tell her some truth of what he believed. "I also believe Melkor is up to something. The Vala of the Hunt warned me to be mindful of his presence. That Melkor was spending time among the Noldor and that little good could come from it."

Alatáriel tilted her head. "Hmm... Father has mentioned something about some of the Noldor gaining new knowledge. Perhaps that is due to Melkor's influence."

"It is likely that the Vala has influenced their recent crafts and designs, though I would not trust him to offer any real assistance."

There was fear in the timbre of Feangol's voice but she did not press him on the issue, instead she favored him with a smile and stood up, voice light as she asked, "Why don't we go for a walk? I can show you around Tirion so that you may gain a better grasp of it's layout."

Olórin returned her smile, rising at her motion and nodded. "As you wish, Alatáriel."

The pair strolled back into the city, walking hand in hand as the lady pointed out the various homes of the other Noldor royalty until they came  to a stop near a water fountain in the shape of a swan. Her eyes shifted skyward as the glow of Laurelin faded and the silver of Telperion took its place.

"This is one of my favorite spots in the city," Alatáriel whispered then shifted her gaze back down. Reaching out, she gently danced her fingertips around the surface of the pool. "This swan was commissioned by my grandmother, Indis, as a gift for mother. My father wanted it placed here in honor of the few Teleri that reside in the city."

Olórin listened quietly, coming to stand to her left as he mimicked her motions. "It is a lovely water fountain. I can see why it appeals to you so deeply."

"Does it not for you, Feangol?"

The silver haired elf kept his gaze cast downward. "I admit I do miss the sound of waves crashing on the sandy shores. The swan is a good reminder of Alqualondë. But I also enjoy the sound of the wind through the trees and the feel of grass beneath my feet."

Alatáriel laughed softly, turning to sit sideways on the fountain edge, studying her friend. "I forgot for a moment of your love of the land. Perhaps someday soon we can take a trip into the interior of Valinor. I do long to see the two trees again."

Olórin blushed a bit though he was no longer surprised at how easily such a simple thing as a laugh from his Melda Heri affected him. "If your father will allow it, we shall go on a journey anywhere you wish to go."

"I will have to ask him. I find the idea of leaving the city without an escort rather intriguing. Though with you at my side I do believe no danger will come to me."

"I will not let harm come to you, Alatáriel," the Maia replied, lifting his gaze, blinking at the sudden closeness of his lady's face to his own. She was even more beautiful at this distance, her skin unblemished and her features perfect in form.

The silver light caught the golden tresses of her hair, making them glow and his breath caught in his throat at the sudden sense of emotion he felt from their shared connection. Olórin had never experienced the intensity of such feelings before and it made his heart hammer in his chest at the open display of adoration in Alatáriel's eyes.

"Nor will I let any harm come to you, Feangol," she whispered, her gaze unwavering as she studied the silver haired elf's face. He was beautiful to her. Strong and lean and wonderful. Her Feangol.

She hesitated, wondering if he knew the depth of her feelings for him only to widen her eyes in surprise as he reached out to trace the back of his fingers along her cheek.

He was nervous and uncertain how to react to the intensity of her feelings for him and it took a few moments for Olórin to remember the proper displays of affection lovers gave to one another. At last he reacted, reaching out to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers, his voice lower and deeper than his usual timbre. "You are more lovely than the call of the sea and more bright than the light of Varda's stars. I'm spellbound by you, Alatáriel ."

She leaned into his touch, reaching out to caress his cheek. "My Feangol."

"Yes, my lady," he replied, turning his head to kiss her wrist. "Always yours."

Heat flashed across her features at his claim and she leaned in, resting her forehead against his, her lips nearly upon his own as she whispered, "And I am yours, Feangol."

Olórin felt Alatáriel move closer, her lips suddenly brushing against his. It was soft, innocent, and wonderful. The sensation was electric and he returned it shyly, tasting her for the first time. His heart threatened to burst from his chest and he reveled in the new sensation, pulling back as she did, a loving smile upon his lips at this precious moment in time only for it to fall at the sound of a male's voice behind him.

"Well now, isn't this touching?"

Alatáriel cast her gaze beyond Feangol's shoulder, her voice as cool as her features as she spoke. "What do you want, Curufinwë?"

"I was just taking a stroll through Tirion," the tall, dark haired man replied, a sneer on his lips as he added, "and just happened to find you here with your... friend. Whatever were you two up to, hmm?"

"It is not your concern," Alatáriel spoke icily, disdain on her face as she glared at her cousin.

"No. But that doesn't mean I have to approve of such an affront to your Noldor heritage. A Teleri, really, Alatáriel? I could knock him down with one blow, weak as his line is."

Olórin sensed the growing hostility, the challenge in the dark haired elf's words direct and heated and he wondered why this Curufinwë was so angry at a simple thing as the closeness of he and Alatáriel. Still, the look of insult in the lady's eyes towards the intruder steeled his will and he rose slowly, turning to face the taller elf. "I don't believe we've met before," he began, trying to smooth things between his lady and the newcomer. "I am Feangol, a student of King Olwë, friend to Alatáriel, and representative of Alqualondë."

The dark haired Noldor frowned, eyes narrowed at the power reflected in the smaller elf's eyes, finding it a bit unsettling though he covered it up by growling out, "I don't care where you've come from, Teleri, or your name. You are in the city of Tirion, home of the great Noldor. You will do well to remember your place here."

He brushed roughly past Feangol, surprise on his features when the Teleri remained firmly in his spot, unmoved from the physical contact.

The pair watched as the dark haired elf stalked off, Olórin lowering his gaze to his Melda Heri as he asked, "Who was that?"

"His name is Curufinwë," Alatáriel answered with a sigh. "One of Fëanáro's sons. He is my uncle's favorite child and the most like him in personality. Quick to fight and quick to argue. He is as obstinate and ill-willed towards my family line as his father, though he seems more hostile to my other uncle, Aracáno, and his family."

The Maia shook his head. "There is a darkness in his eyes I did not like. He seemed to want to start a physical confrontation with me, though I do not understand why."

"Because he's a bully," Alatáriel replied, her gaze making sure her cousin was truly gone before turning back to Feangol. "I am sure if it came to a fight, you would win."

"I'm not so sure," he countered softly. "Though if he tried to hurt you I would fight him without hesitation."

The blonde she-elf grinned at him. Sliding her arm under his, she steered him back towards her home. "I have no doubt that you would come to my aid if I needed it, Feangol. It is one of the many things I love about you."

He walked arm in arm with her, blushing a bit as he spoke. "One of many?"

Alatáriel nodded, favoring him with a happy smile. "One of many things indeed, sweet Feangol."

She found being close to him comforting, holding no fear of her cousin or those of his ilk, though the intrusion into her romantic moment with her chosen elf was troubling.

Why did it matter what her cousin thought of her growing relationship with Feangol? Being a Teleri had nothing to do with him becoming her chosen husband if she decided to marry.

No matter, she thought, looking over to the handsome features of Feangol. They know nothing of love, only hate and anger. They are not worthy of understanding."Shall we return home, Feangol? Or do you wish to walk some more through the city?"

Olórin sensed the troubling emotions of his lady but knew it was best to let the matter rest and he gave her a loving smile. "I think I've seen all I need to see of Tirion for the day, Alatáriel," he answered, shifting his gaze straight ahead as he added, "Home sounds good to me."

The lady matched his smile, keeping pace with him as they made their way back to Finarfin's house and the safety of its borders, each wondering what tomorrow would bring and excited at the prospect of being in the company of the other for as long as life allowed.

Chapter Text

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Olórin stood outside his lady's chamber, waiting patiently for Alatáriel. His Melda Heri had requested his presence and the Maia did not question it, for he loved her with all his heart and soul.

In the many years since remaining in Tirion, Olórin had learned much of the Noldor customs and crafts, sharing his own knowledge of song, sea, and archery with those who asked of him. He found the dark haired elves relentless in their pursuit of knowledge and knew it was both a gift and a hindrance to the Eldar.

For Melkor roamed freely, and already the Maia could sense a darker undertone in the city in the interactions witnessed between Fëanáro and Fingolfin. This extended to Finarfin on occasion when the Maia accompanied the blond elf to visit Indis, the Noldor King's mother.

Still, Finarfin seemed unaffected by the growing hostility between his brothers, preferring to stay out of their disputes, explaining that Fëanáro had always been full of fire and pride, stubborn and quick tempered in his anger and disliked his brothers and kin due to having different mothers.

The Maia well knew of the marriage rituals and customs of the Eldar. Love was a strong emotion for the elves and once a bond had been established, marriage usually took place and from that union, nothing could tear it asunder, save death or in the rarest of cases, choice. That Finwë took a second wife due to the death of his first was not frowned upon, save Fëanáro who would most likely see it as a betrayal of his mother's memory. At least that was how Olórin understood the situation.

But to have such open hostility? To have such aggressive reactions when in the presence of their own kin? The Maia frowned and began to pace, wondering if the negative feelings and behaviors exhibited by Fëanáro and most of his sons towards Fingolfin and Finarfin and their children was being influenced by the words of Melkor.

Olórin had sensed the Ainu's presence on several occasions since arriving in Tirion and upon the Vala's leaving, a dark cloud of emotion would hang over the house of Fëanáro, spreading out to other Noldor. He began to hear whispering of discontent within the hearts of the dark haired elves.

Some felt that the Valar were holding the Noldor hostage in the land of Valinor, so that a new race of beings called men could claim the great lands to the west, depriving the first born the chance to build and grow kingdoms of their own. The Maia knew of Eru's theme of men, as he knew of the true nature of the Valar, who simply wished for the elves to remain free of the war and strife that Melkor had caused long ago. But he could not counter their arguments, lest he be labeled a spy for the Valar or worse, garner the attention of Melkor himself.

Still, Olórin disliked the tension that hovered in the air, wishing he could do something to stop the anger and resentment that festered in the hearts of some of the Noldor. If for nothing else than to ease the conflict between the brothers so that he could enjoy his time with Alatáriel without the interference of Fëanáro's son Curufinwë, whom seemed to despise the Teleri above all other elves. He would follow and taunt the Maia, invading his space, his insults more vicious with each passing interaction in an attempt to goad the silver haired elf into a physical altercation, which always ended with the Maia ignoring and walking away from the conflict. This only seemed to upset the Noldor prince even more and his efforts only grew more hostile and aggressive upon the next crossing of paths within the walls of the city.

Olórin could not understand what he had done to earn such malice but did his best to avoid the dark haired elf, remaining more often then not on the grounds of Finarfin's estate. But sooner or later, he would have to deal with the growing tide of Curufinwë's dark thoughts that washed over him, either by words or by fists and the Maia did not look forward to that undertaking.

I do not want to fight him but if he does not desist with his words and actions towards me, then I will have no choice but to confront him, he vowed, going still at the worried tone of his Melda Heri's voice.

"What is troubling you, Feangol?"

The silver haired elf relaxed his features and turned, favoring Alatáriel with a tender smile. "Nothing, my lady, now that I am in your presence."

The Noldor princess's features lightened at his words, though her voice was still tinged with worry as she moved closer to him. "You cannot lie to me, Feangol, I know you too well. Your heart is troubled and your eyes speak of some worry that has yet been voiced. So tell me, love, what is upsetting you so?"

He felt his heart flutter at being called love, a slight blush upon his skin. It never ceased to amaze him at how so simple a word could affect him and he lowered his gaze a bit, voice soft. "I do not wish to burden you with my concerns with your birthday so near. Now is a time to celebrate, not reflect on my own troubles."

"Your troubles are mine as well, Feangol," Alatáriel replied, strength in her gaze as she reached out to caress the silver haired elf's cheek. "I can feel the unease in your heart and hear it in your mind. So talk to me, Feangol. Tell me what is bothering you."

The Maia looked down to study his beloved.

Alatáriel had reached adulthood, taller than any other she-elf in Valinor. Her beauty was unrivaled and her skill in all things Noldor was a true sight to behold. She was strong, powerful, brave, and beautiful to him and he felt awed in her presence. Perhaps his love for her made him biased but to him there was no other elf that could compare to his Melda Heri.

Reaching out, he caressed her cheek in like fashion, then lowered it, taking her free hand in his own as he spoke in soft tones. "Walk with me, Alatáriel, and I will tell you of my concerns."

The princess leaned into her beloved's touch, a bit of disappointment blooming in her heart when he took his hand away but she nodded at his request, entwining her fingers with his as they headed down the stairs and into the open courtyard outside. She cast a glance up at Feangol, noting the strength and beauty in his features.

He had reached adulthood at nearly the same time as she had, his body stronger and well proportioned, firm and toned, and tall, having grown a few inches above Alatáriel herself. She found comfort and safety in his presence and her love grew ever more the longer they were together. Of course, neither of them acted much on their feelings in a physical way, as they were unmarried, their expressions mostly of soft touches and gentle kisses and at times the lady wished for more but knew this was the way of things in Valinor.

But lately, Alatáriel's own thoughts drifted off into realms of other possibilities that she dare not mention to anyone, save perhaps Feangol should the time come to voice such things. Part of her worried he would love her less for her thoughts and ideas, while the other longed to share the growing desire she had for a kingdom of her own, far from the growing conflict between her uncles and even her father, who did his best to avoid any infighting.

The Maia sensed the swirl of emotions coming from his Melda Heri and his brow furrowed at the thought of him being the source of her conflicted feelings and he slowed his walk to a stop, voice soft. "It seems I'm not the only one with troubling thoughts, Alatáriel. Perhaps there are things that we both must share with each other to ease our worries."

Alatáriel stopped with him, blinking at his words, lifting her gaze up to him, a playful smile upon her lips as she laughed softly at being caught by his perceptive nature, "It seems we know each other very well indeed. I cannot hide anything from you, sweet Feangol." She tugged their entwined hands gently, leading him over the bench under the willow. She sat down, the silver haired elf following as she began to speak, "Before I tell you my thoughts, will you share with me your own?"

Olórin blushed at her soft laugh, clearing his throat as he followed her, nodding at her request as he replied, "As you wish, my lady." He kept his gaze on her as he spoke, "I have sensed things of a darker nature growing in the city of Tirion. I know it has not escaped your notice as well, but I find it troubling and fear violence may break out if the situation is not rectified."

"I have indeed sensed a growing hostility between my family and kin," Alatáriel said with a nod. "But I do not know if there is any way to ease the bad feelings between my uncles and my father. My grandfather could help but he seems to favor his eldest child above his other two sons thus giving fuel to Fëanáro's disdain and distrust of his brothers."

"What of your grandmother, Indis? Does she not have the ability to talk to Finwë?"

Alatáriel tilted her head, features thoughtful. "I know my grandparents love each other very much. Perhaps there is some way my grandmother could get my grandfather to try to ease the situation but he may see it as nothing more than his wife trying to favor her two sons."

The Maia sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "It seems this situation will never be resolved."

The she-elf reached out, taking his hand from his forehead, leaning in to study him, murmuring, "It's okay, Feangol. I know you worry about my family and the people in the city. You are a wise and gentle elf and I understand you do not wish for anyone to be hurt. But I don't expect you to solve the riddle of conflict within my family, nor do I wish you to."

Olórin shook his head. "I worry that it is more than just simple bad feelings over perceived slights causing the rift between your kin. I feel the presence of Melkor is behind all this dark talk and action."

At the mention of the Vala, the blond she-elf voice her own thoughts. "I agree with your assessment, Feangol. I saw behind the mask Melkor wore the single time I was near him and found him foul indeed. But there is little I could say that would be listened to outside of my father, my mother and a few Noldor. Many seem taken with his gifts of knowledge. For now I think it best to simply avoid being in his presence."

The Maia nodded. "I think it a wise decision to not seek him out nor be near him, Alatáriel."

"Is that part of your worry, Feangol?" she asked. "Do you fear I will be corrupted by his dark influence?"

He frowned at her words, noting a sense of concern in his lady's heart and he lifted his gaze to study her. "No, my lady. I know you are too intelligent and too strong to fall for his tricks. I just..." he started then stopped, murmuring. "I just don't want any harm to come to you. If I lost you I'd..."

The lady lifted her hand, resting her fingertips over his lips, stilling his voice. "You will never lose me, Feangol. I will not be parted from you nor leave you so do not worry over this."

Olórin kept his eyes on her fair features, seeing the truth of her words and sensing her deep love of him and he lifted his hand, gently taking hold of her wrist, kissing her fingertips before guiding her hand back down. He stroked the top of her hand with his thumb, voice tender as he spoke, "I believe you, Alatáriel. But now it is your turn to talk to me of your concerns. Tell me of your troubles, my lady, so that I may help to ease them."

His touch was comforting and made her heart flutter and she found she very much enjoyed the contact. Her gaze met Feangol's and for a moment she grew lost in the depths of the deep blue pools of his eyes. He was all there was and she found herself moving closer to him, voice a mere whisper. "If I tell you, do you promise not to laugh at me?"

The Maia felt his body come alive at the look the she-elf gave him, finding the closeness of her body affecting him more than it should given the circumstances and he leaned in giving a whisper of his own, "I would never laugh at you, my lady."

Alatáriel wanted to kiss him then but knew it was only fair to share her thoughts with him so she withdrew a bit and spoke, "Lately, I've been thinking over what I've wanted to do with my life, Feangol. And I found myself... imagining you and I..." She paused, biting her lip, blushing darkly, unable to voice what it was she wanted to say.

He tilted his head, curious at how tongue tied his lady was. It was rare for her to have such difficulty speaking and he tried to ease her worry as he asked, "You imagined us doing what, my lady? It's okay to tell me, I said I would not laugh. So what is it?"

The lady looked up at Feangol, touched yet frustrated by his innocent nature and she shook her head. "It is... of a very private and personal nature, Feangol... something... married elves do.. to show.. affection for one another..."

A knowing look spread across the Maia's features at her words, a blush of his own forming on his face as he understood now what it was she was referring to. "My lady... I.. well... that is..." he stammered, frowning inwardly at how silly he sounded, feeling his beloved's gaze on him, sensing within her a regret for sharing her thoughts and he straightened his back then cleared his throat. "I... believe such thoughts... are normal... there is no shame in... wanting to express love... in a physical way... when... the person you care about feels the same."

Relief filled Alatáriel at his answer, though she felt a rare sense of shyness as she replied. "It makes my heart happy to hear that you do not think less of me for my desire of you."

"Why would I think less of you, Alatáriel?" the Maia said softly, bringing the lady's hand up to kiss the top. "Though it is true we are not married, if the time comes when you are ready to marry, I will be overjoyed at the privilege to be your husband. Whatever it is you wish of me, I will do it."

"Sweet Feangol..." the lady whispered, eyeing him in adoration. "You know not how easily your words affect me. You make me want to forget everything and just..." her voice trailed off suddenly and went silent and the silver haired elf was puzzled.

"Just what, my lady?" he asked, concern growing when she did not answer. "Alatáriel?"

The female elf felt a sudden sense of trepidation in what she wanted to say and she cast her gaze down, murmuring. "Just run away with you... far from here..."

Olórin sensed her fear and her longing for independence and he whispered, "Where would you wish to go, my lady?" Though a dreadful thought occurred to him that was confirmed by his Melda Heri's answer.

"To Middle Earth..." she replied quietly, her voice gaining power as she continued. "It is said to be beyond size to Valinor. Full of promise and unoccupied country. We came from the land to the east, why should we not return to it?"

His brow furrowed and his heart sank, though he did his best to hide it. "It is a place full of peril and fell creatures beyond anything in Valinor," He said softly, conflicted in his loyalty to the Valar and his love for Alatáriel as he added, "No one has dared tried to cross the great sea nor the Helcaraxë since Melkor was imprisoned. With the Vala now free to roam it would be very dangerous to even attempt to travel to the east."

"Are you not the least bit curious about where you came from, Feangol?" Alatáriel countered. "You have told me of wandering the shores and interior of Valinor, imagine what else could be discovered when you travel through Middle Earth."

Olórin blinked at her words, doubt filling him at his purpose and he found himself answering in a soft voice, "My lady... It is true that I love adventure and travel. I have stated that I will do whatever you asked of me, and I stand by my words. I love you and will go where you go. I only hesitate because of the darkness that lies to the east." He paused a bit before adding, "But is this truly what you desire, Alatáriel? Do you really want to leave the safety of Valinor for the unknown of Middle Earth? Are you willing to leave your family behind?"

Now it was the lady's turn to blink and she cast her eyes downward, feeling selfish for her desire to leave Valinor. "No... I do not wish to abandon my family, Feangol. It was foolish of me to even speak of it."

The silver haired elf lifted his hand to crook his finger under Alatáriel's chin, gently urging her to lift her gaze, eyes on hers as he whispered, "I asked you of your thoughts and feelings, Alatáriel. Never feel shame in sharing with me. Even if I do not agree, I will never love you less for it."

She sensed his love for her, the sting at the thought of his disapproval vanishing. He had promised to go where she wanted, did he not?

I am worrying over nothing, she chided herself, favoring her beloved with a smile. "I feel no shame when it comes to you, Feangol," Alatáriel said, a twinkling light growing in her eyes and she laughed softly at his blush, knowing he understood the connotation.

Olórin could feel the playfulness in the she-elf's tone and see it upon her lovely features and the tables turned once again, him feeling shy as he blushed. " Alatáriel..."

She found him adorable when he grew shy and she rose up, pulling him with her.

The Maia went as he was pulled, following her as they walked towards the city, stopping in the middle of the arched bridge that hovered above part of the fast flowing Itila. They remained in companionable silence, content at the moment to watch the river pass underneath before Olórin asked, "So what do you wish for your birthday, my lady?"

Alatáriel turned her azure eyes over to Feangol, smiling tenderly. "You have already given me the greatest gift I could ask for, Feangol," she answered, reaching out to place her hand over his heart.

Olórin looked down at his beloved lady's hand, blushing as he reached up, placing his larger hand over hers, whispering, "You will always have my love, Alatáriel. But is there nothing else you desire for you birthday?"

Several thoughts burst to life in the she-elf's mind and she felt heat on her cheeks from a few of them before she replied, "I would like to see Valinor with my own eyes, Feangol." She moved closer to him then, looking up at his beautiful face as she nearly sung out, "I would like to lay under the two trees at night and watch the stars come to light. I would like to have you beside me and guide me through the pastures of Yavanna and the forests of Oromë. That is what I desire to do for my birthday, Feangol."

The Maia studied her, listening intently to her voice, joy lighting his face. "I would be honored to take you on a journey, my lady. When would you like to go?"

"If my father and my mother approve, I would like to leave tomorrow morning."

Surprise marred Olórin's features. "You do not wish to celebrate your birthday in Tirion?"

Alatáriel laughed lightly at the puzzlement upon her love's face, knowing full well how much her kin loved to host parties and dances. "I know it seems sudden, Feangol, but my greatest desire at the moment is to just get away from this city and spend time with you." She wrapped her arms around his waist, looking up at him fondly as she added, "Will you do this for me?"

Olórin cast his gaze down at his lady, voice as tender as his features as he wrapped his arms around her in turn. "I can deny you nothing, Alatáriel," he answered, pleasantly surprised when his Melda Heri leaned up to brush her lips over his own. He returned the kiss slowly,deeply, reveling in the taste and sense of her, pulling back only when the need to breathe kicked in, croaking out as he rested his forehead against hers. "Alatáriel..."

"Feangol..." The she-elf whispered, her lips tingling from tasting him, the strength of his love for her wrapping around her senses, find him intoxicating and she leaned into him, enjoying the feel of his solid form against her softer body. "I could... stand here like this all day..." she said, shivering in delight as her beloved stroked her back with his fingertips.

The Maia felt a chuckle escape his lips as he shifted his head to kiss her forehead. "As could I, though I'm not sure everyone else would approve."

The Noldor Princess laughed softly, nestling her face in his neck, nuzzling his skin. "I care not what others think about us, Feangol."

His eyelids fluttered at the way she nuzzled his neck, and he rested his chin on her crown. "As you say, my lady."

"I do say..." she replied, lifting her head to look back up at him. "Shall we go find my parents and see what their thoughts are on the matter?"

He was reluctant to let her go but nodded, lowering his arms as Alatáriel backed away, smiling when he felt her hand in his own. The pair returned to Finarfin's house, sitting down with the two royals as his lady asked permission to travel Valinor.

"You are of age to do as you wish, Nerwen," Eärwen's voice was the first to be heard, her blue eyes studying her daughter in confusion. "But are you certain this is what you desire? There are many who will be disappointed to not share in the festivities that a birthday celebration brings."

"I am aware of our kin's love of dances and festivals," the younger female elf said softly. "And out of respect for you and father, I did not want to just leave without your consent. Even if I am age, I am still of this house and I do not want to upset or go against your wishes for me. But this is the gift I desire most. I wish to have a little bit of freedom and I wish to leave this city for a while."

Eärwen shifted her focus over to her husband. "What do you think of this, Finarfin?"

The blond elf studied hhe stated, smiling a bit at the way his daughter held tightly to Feangol's hand. "Though there is something I wish to know."

"What is it, father?" Alatáriel asked.

"You two love each other very much, that is certain," he began. "Your bond is visible to all who gaze upon you. Should you not, therefore, announce your betrothal?"

The two younger elves blushed at the thought of being married though it was Feangol who spoke first. "My lord, I would like nothing more than to be Alatáriel's husband, but only when she is ready to marry me. The choice is always hers to make."

Finarfin smiled softly, though his brow furrowed as he shifted his gaze to his only daughter. "Do you not wish to marry Feangol, Alatáriel?"

"I want to marry Feangol," the lady replied quickly, a blush on her cheek. "I love him with every fiber of my being." She paused then continued. "I just want to do it in my own time and at my own pace. You can understand that can you not, father?"

Finarfin tilted his head, studying his daughter. She had always been fiercely independent, always trying to outdo her brothers. She was gifted with her mother's strength and his own resolve. He could sense within her a need to strike out on her own and a will to do what she wished, when she wished and he could not begrudge her. "I understand, Alatáriel, but do you believe it fair to make Feangol wait? Surely he desires you as his wife?" he asked, turning his attention back to the silver haired elf who spoke,

"It is true that Alatáriel is my Melda Heri," Feangol answered, his features shy though his voice was strong and clear. "I love her and always will love her. I know it is the same for my lady. We love each other and will never part from one another. If she wishes to wait, so too, will I wait. Until the ending of the world if she so desired."

Finarfin listened to the younger elf's words, processing them, understanding the meaning.

You two are all but married save for the rings and consummation,  he thought, smiling inwardly. Perhaps this trip his daughter wished to take would help speed up the process of finally allowing herself to be wed properly. "Very well," he said in an even tone, "You may go traveling together, but there are a few stipulations I wish to discuss."

With that he sat down and laid out his plan for the pair, causing them to blush at one point in relation to physical contact but they agreed to his terms to behave themselves and to take care while traveling. When morning came, the two packed the essential supplies they would need, Feangol making sure to tie Haldanar upon the belt of his gray tunic while he strapped his bow and quiver against the blue cloak upon his back. He met up with Alatáriel at the foot of the stairs, his heart jumping at her warm smile and he returned the morning greeting, bowing his head slightly at Finarfin and Eärwen.

The four of them headed outside, the two younger elves turning and saying their goodbyes.

"Be careful young ones," Finarfin began, silently approving the bow he saw strapped to the silver haired elf's back. "Enjoy your time together and do be sure to remember all I've told you."

"We will be careful, my lord," Feangol replied, holding his hand to his heart. "Nemárië."

" Nemárië.." Finarfin returned, his wife following, the two of them smiling fondly at their daughter as she repeated the same gestures as Feangol.

" Nemárië.. atar... ontáre..." Alatáriel said softly to her parents, happy at their blessing, eager for the journey to begin and the two elves departed Tirion, heading west, into the heart of Valinor where the two trees lay, unaware of the dark pair of eyes that followed their departure.

Chapter Text

YT 1432

Golden was the light of Laurelin as Olórin and Alatáriel journeyed west, heading for the mound of Corollairë, where the two trees grew tall. The Maia kept his pace slow, patient, his eyes alight with joy and his voice ringing with a child-like quality as he pointed out the various animals that danced or flitted by. It felt good to be out in nature again and Olórin's heart lightened at the beauty and splendor of Valinor.

Alatáriel studied her love, listening to his words, sensing the contentment and wonder of his feelings for the land that surrounded them. Love filled her heart at the joy she could see upon his handsome features, delight upon her own face and within her soul at sharing such a wonderful gift with him. It was a new experience, traveling without an escort, and she liked the closeness she could have with Feangol alone. They held hands, stopping on occasion when the silver haired elf pointed out some new creatures for her to observe. Soon Telperion's silver replaced the golden light of Laurelin but the pair pressed on, stopping only when Varda's stars became most visible.

Olórin stood under the wide trunk of a maple tree, turning towards his lady as he spoke, "I think we should rest here for the night." He lifted himself upon the lowest branch, crouching down to hold out a hand to the she-elf.

Alatáriel blinked as she watched the silver haired elf climb up into the tree but moved to take his outstretched hand, a small gasp escaping her lips when her beloved pulled her up with ease, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Feangol... is.. it.. necessary to stay the night in a tree?" she asked, unaccustomed to resting out of doors.

The Maia repeated the process with the next branch, pulling his lady up with him, until they were near the top, before he answered. "Forgive me, Alatáriel. I know this seems a bit... strange to you, but I believe it best to remain above ground if possible given the increase of fell creatures roaming the wilds of Valinor."

The she-elf tilted her head as she studied Feangol, watching as he lowered his form to sit upon the wide bough, going to him as he motioned her forward, shyly sitting down before him, blushing as he wrapped his cloak around them, his blue eyes vibrant in hue, even in the darkness and she whispered as she nestled against him. "I understand your concern, Feangol. It's just that I've never rested in a tree before."

A smile tugged at Olórin's lips and he drew an arm around his lady, holding her close, heart fluttering a bit when his Melda Heri rested her head against his shoulder. "I know this is a new experience for you, Alatáriel, but it will keep us safe from any predators that might be roaming about."

A gentle breeze swirled through the trees, the leaves shivering in joy and the Noldor Princess cast her gaze outward, the stars of night glowing in the darkened sky and she felt her body relax. "It is beautiful and quiet. I can see why you love the woodland so much."

"I do enjoy the peacefulness of nature," the Maia whispered, eyes fixed upon the glory of Varda's light. "It is my true home."

Alatáriel tilted her head up, searching the beautiful features of the silver haired elf, touching his face to draw his attention from the sky to her, the strength and warmth in his eyes made her smile and she stroked his cheek. "Your home is also my home, sweet Feangol. It brings me joy that you are sharing this journey with me."

Olórin gazed down in reverence at his Melda Heri, her touch making his heart jump and he lifted his hand, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Wherever you are, so too I shall be, Alatáriel. I carry you in my heart, I dance and sing with you in the halls of my mind, my love for you cannot be shattered by the passing of time, nor the fear of death. I am yours, my lady. So it shall always be."

His voice was fierce in it's devotion and love, making Alatáriel's heart race and she shifted, brushing her lips against his, groaning when he wrapped both arms around her, pulling her tight to him. His body was warm against her own and she grew lost in the simple sensation, pulling back when the need to breathe kicked in, her voice low, panting out,"Feangol..."

The Maia was reluctant to let his lady go, her soft supple form rather pleasing against his solid one, his blood racing at the closeness and the look of desire upon his love's face was hard to resist but he remembered their promise to Finarfin and he loosened his hold, resting his forehead against hers, croaking out, "Forgive me, Alatáriel. I should not be so forward with you."

The she-elf tilted her head, features and tone confused as she spoke, "There is nothing to forgive, Feangol. I was the one who kissed you first. You did nothing wrong."

His brow furrowed and he looked away, moving his head back to rest against the trunk of the tree. "Still, until you decide you want to marry, I should be careful in how I express my affection for you."

The lady frowned, voice soft as she replied, "I don't want you to be careful with me, Feangol. I love you and you love me. There is nothing wrong with expressing our feelings for each other."

Olórin returned his focus back to Alatáriel, murmuring, "I enjoy expressing my love for you, my lady. But you and I both know we want more than just kisses and touches. I worry that I will overstep my bounds with you."

His concern made the Noldor Princess's heart ache and she shook her head. "You could never hurt me, Feangol. But I understand and respect you for your restraint," She moved to lay against him, resting her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as he wrapped an arm around her once more, whispering as she changed the subject, "How far are we from the Two Trees, Feangol?"

He relaxed his features when she rested against him once more, smiling at her words, his gaze focused on the stars that blinked in the darkened sky, stroking her back gently as he answered, "We have many miles to go yet, my lady, but I promise to make the journey as enjoyable for you as I can."

The she-elf smiled, nuzzling his neck as she whispered, "Being on this journey with you is enjoyment enough, sweet Feangol."

No more words were said as the pair drifted off into a light slumber, waking when the Laurelin's golden light swept over the land. They climbed down the tree, enjoying a simple breakfast of bread and fruit before continuing the trek towards Corollairë, stopping before a shallow river that cut through a small woodland and the Maia lowered his form to sit on the grass embankment, his eyes closing and his breathing slowed.

Alatáriel tilted her head, watching him for a moment before she moved to sit down beside him. "What are you doing, Feangol?"

He heard the curiosity in her voice and he answered in a soft tone, "I am becoming one with the wood and water my lady."

This new information intrigued the Noldor Princess and she asked in a whisper, "Can you teach me how to do the same, Feangol."

Olórin smiled, nodding as he replied telepathically. Focus your hearing. Seek out each life form with your mind. The pulse will be weak at first.

Alatáriel's features scrunched up in concentration, her brow furrowing as she sent back, I hear and sense nothing.

You are trying too hard, my lady, the Maia sent out in a patient tone. Relax your mind and slow your breathing. Become as still as a stone until you are a part of that which you wish to hear and feel.

She closed her eyes, relaxing her body and mind, willing her breathing to slow, the faint tendrils of life energy wrapping around her and she focused on them, hearing the heartbeat of a bird, the flapping of its wings as it flew in and out of the trees.

She sensed the flow of the water, following its path as it swished around the rocks in the center of the river. The lady could sense the coolness of its touch as it lapped against the shoreline. Her ears picked up the softness of its song and her heart soared, delight spreading across her features as a gentle wind danced through the trees, tugging playfully at her hair as it whispered with joy at her small laugh.

I can feel it, Feangol! she exclaimed like an excited child, her hand resting over his own, clasping it in joy. I can hear their voices and sense their hearts!

Olórin beamed at his lady's response and her happiness. Well done, Alatáriel.

What else can you teach me? she asked as she opened her eyes to study her beloved.

The Maia laughed softly, not surprised at the Noldor Princess's desire to learn more of the world and what was in it and he taught her how to call forth the power of the water by whispering its true name, the lady marveling as the river rose and flowed with greater speed and he taught her how to call to birds using a series of whistles in the language of the avian creatures that flew the skies of Valinor. And so the lessons continued even unto the the seventh day of their travel when their elvish eyes at last gazed upon the full beauty that was Laurelin and Telperion.

Awe and wonder filled Alatáriel at the massive size of the two trees, silver and gold giving off light at the same time, signaling the start of dusk and she felt Feangol gently take her hand. She kept pace with him as they made there way through the valley, following the pathway that led to Corollairë, their booted feet silent as they climbed gracefully up the natural hill stairway that weaved around and into the center of the lush green ground.

Olórin craned his neck back, admiring the beauty of Laurelin's waning golden glow, shifting his gaze as he felt his Melda Heri gently release his hand, watching her nearly glide over to the silver trunk of Telperion, his light growing stronger as the golden glow of Laurelin faded. The Maia moved to stand beside the she-elf, sensing the happiness within her and he smiled tenderly, reaching out to rest his hand against the glowing tree. "Beautiful is it not?" he whispered, casting a gentle look over to Alatáriel who nodded, her hand moving to rest beside his own.

"His silver light reminds me of you, Feangol," she murmured, able to sense Telperion's life force flowing through the bark, marveling at the power running through the tree, her gaze shifting over to the taller elf, open admiration upon her lovely features. "Strong and beautiful."

The Maia blushed a bit, his eyes drifting over his shoulder to the fading glow of Laurelin as he sung softly, "And her golden light reminds me of you, Alatáriel. Warm and powerful."

It was the lady's turn to blush and she slowly withdrew her hand from the silver tree, taking Feangol's hand in her own, gently tugging him to her, guiding him back to the center between the two trees. She sat down upon the green grass, the silver haired elf joining her. They remained in silent contentment for some time, shifting to lay side by side, peering beyond the glowing branches of Telperion and the dim ones of Laurelin and into the starlit sky.

Feangol? Alatáriel sent out to the elf beside her, smiling at the melodic sound of his voice in her mind.

Yes, my lady?

Do you ever wonder why lies beyond the borders of this world? she asked, shifting her azure gaze over to Feangol who replied silently.

There is much more to this world than what is visible to elvish eyes, Alatáriel.

Do you mean beings such as the Valar?

The Maia quirked an eyebrow and shifted onto his side. Crooking his right arm, he rested his head in his hand as he looked down at her. The Valar are certainly hidden from the world until they chose to be seen. But what is it you truly wish to ask of me?

Alatáriel bit her lip, her voice but a whisper in his mind as she asked, I mean of the universe, Feangol. It seems to be so dark, save for the stars. It must be cold and infinite.

I suppose it is, he replied, not wishing to reveal too much of what he knew, though he did not want to squash her curiosity completely. But there is light as well. From this light, we are created and born into this realm. Even the Valar originate from the flame imperishable.

Flame imperishable?

Olórin nodded, his eyes becoming more alive, a vibrant blue shining in the silver light. The origin of life, a divine spark that creates from nothing. Only Ilúvatar holds the secret fire, from which the Valar and the Maiar were sung into existence, and it is his will that elves came into being, awakening on the shores of Cuiviénen long before the summons from the Valar.

There was a reverence in his voice that drew Alatáriel to listen and she focused her attention to his words, marveling at his knowledge. You know so much of the world, Feangol. It's almost as if you were sent here by Eru himself to be my guide.

The Maia swallowed dryly at her words, a bit of panic growing in his heart. Had she at last seen beyond his physical body? Was his true form now visible to her? Thinking quickly, he sent out, I have had a few dealings with the Valar during my travels upon Valinor. From that, I have learned many things and have grown in wisdom.

Alatáriel studied Feangol's face, brow furrowed at how ashen his features became and she wondered for a moment if he was unwell but his answer soothed her concern and she nodded, favoring him with a warm smile. I love your mind, Feangol. I am happy that you have learned many things and that you are willing to share them with me.

His fear faded at the smile upon his lady's lips, relief flooding him when she moved closer and Olórin lay back, allowing her to snuggle into his side and he wrapped his arm around her back, his gaze now upon the stars once more. I love you, my lady. How can I not share what I know with you?

Alatáriel closed her eyes, crooking her right arm over Feangol's torso, relaxing her body, sending back, I love you too, Feangol.

The pair rested until Laurelin's light washed over them and Olórin awoke first, smiling at how his lady clung to him, her lovely features partly hidden by the long golden tresses of her hair and he brushed them back gently, watching as his love's eyelids fluttered open, her azure eyes shining brightly as they met his darker blue ones. "Good morning, Alatáriel."

The Noldor Princess was drawn in by the depths of his gaze and the tenderness of his voice and she lifted her head, resting her hand against his heart, feeling the strength of it against her fingertips, his features loving and her body responded to his voice and way he felt against her. "Good morning, Feangol," she replied leaning down to kiss him tenderly.

The Maia returned the kiss, savoring the contact, watching with silent disappointment when his lady pulled back but her shy look coupled with the golden glow of Laurelin's light wrapping around his Melda Heri, made his heart nearly burst at the glory that lay beside him and he reached up, tracing her lips with his thumb. "Lovely, Alatáriel. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

The way he spoke and the look upon his face made the she-elf's heart race and she kissed his thumb. "You make me feel beautiful, Feangol." She shifted, laying her head over his heart, closing her eyes at the strength of the pulse, making pleasing sounds when he began to caress her hair.

"You are more beautiful and lovely than the heavens to me, Alatáriel," Olórin sung softly, his heart bursting with all the emotions he felt for his beloved. "I love all that you are. I will always love you."

Tears formed in her eyes and she clung tightly to him. "Feangol..." she whispered, voice threatening to crack.

He frowned, sensing the a swirl of emotion within his lady's heart. "Did I say something to upset you?"

"No," the she-elf replied, lifting her head to look up at her beloved. "I don't know why I cry. You just make my heart sing... I feel alive and loved... It's... hard to explain."

He reached out, wiping the tears from her eyes, voice soft and understanding. "There is no need to explain, my lady. You love me and I love you. That's all we need in this world."

The sound of many voices singing drew the pair's attention and they broke apart, rising and gathering their things, elvish eyes spying a large party of Vanyar elves heading their way and they walked down the way they came, nodding their heads in passing, noting the regal attire and the Maia sent out to his lady, A wedding party. They must have decided to give their vows under the two trees.

That's very romantic, the Noldor Princess sent back, listening to the joyful voices that sang of love and commitment. A wistful smile took hold of her lips and thoughts of what her own ceremony would be like flitted in her mind as they headed south, away from the two trees and the city of Valmar, into the pastures of Yavanna. We should do something like that when we return to Tirion.

Olórin blinked, wondering if that last part was meant for him to hear and he did not respond, not wanting to push her into something she was not ready for but he stopped when the girl tugged on his hand and he turned to face her as she spoke.

"Do you not think we should do something like that, Feangol?"

"Marry each other?" he began in a soft tone. "I will marry you whenever you feel it is right for you, Alatáriel."

"And if I want us to marry upon arriving home?" she asked, looking up at him with serious eyes.

"Then I will gladly take my place at your side as your husband," Feangol answered, studying her with equal seriousness. "But is that what you truly want?"

She nodded, moving closer to him, taking his other hand in hers as love shone in her eyes. "I'm tired of waiting, Feangol. I don't want to deny myself the happiness of being with you in all ways. I want you to be my husband. I want to be your wife."

He felt a bit of heat upon his cheeks, frowning at her soft laugh but he cleared his throat, straightening his back as he replied. "Then we shall be betrothed, my lady."

She beamed up at him, finding his blush adorable and she leaned in, hugging him in joy, happy when he returned the hug and they remained like that for some time until they heard the bells of Valmar ring and they laughed softly together, walking hand in hand until the sky was littered with stars, resting briefly before continuing their trek for several weeks through the tall grass of Yavanna's pasture.

The outline of a great forest came into view beyond the borders of the lush valley and they headed towards it, startling a herd of deer that bounded off and the Maia smiled at the open joy of his lady as she laughed and raced the deer, fleet of foot as she bounded over a small stream and towards the edge of the woodland. They came to a stop as the sky darkened.

Beads of water fell upon her form and she tilted her head back, the cool sensation of rain cascading down her skin as rain dropped from the clouds that hovered high above and she held out her arms, a surge of elation hitting her as she gave out a joyful laugh.

Olórin watched with amusement at her reaction to the rain. Rather than try to seek cover, his lady had chose instead to embrace the rain and he walked over to her, tilting his head up as the rain continued to fall, laughing with her, happy in the moment of time, until his ears picked up a grunting noise that turned into a roar and the Maia grabbed Alatáriel's hand, running to the closest tree and he lifted her up, desperation in his voice as he shouted, "Climb, Alatáriel!"

Puzzlement crossed the lady's features but she did not argue, climbing as high as she could go, relieved when she sensed and saw Feangol right behind her. He held her close to him, eyes cast down when his lady asked, "What animal is it that made that noise, Feangol?"

"A bear," he replied, features and voice distracted as his eyes scanned the ground below. "Ferocious beasts when attacked or their territory is invaded, but otherwise they keep to themselves."

"But we didn't attack it. Why would it be angry at us?"

The Maia kept his gaze fixed on the forest floor, features troubled as he pondered over their situation.

They were on the outer edge of the Forests of Oromë, were many dangerous beasts roamed. These creatures provided a challenge for the Vala of the hunt, yet he could not feel the Ainu's presence and though no dark words or thoughts reached his mind, there was a sense of something foreboding that lingered in the air.

Something has upset this creature, he answered telepathically. The cause of which is unknown to me so we must be quiet and hope that it moves on.

An unpleasant smell grew stronger and Olórin's heart sunk as his ears picked up the heavy footfalls of a large beast rampaging through the forest, edging closer, the tree quaking as if in fear of the approaching animal and the Maia held his lady close, dread filling him as a deafening roar erupted in the air, the form of a massive brown bear exploding through the brush, its eyes aflame in a red glow as it stared up in open rage at the two elves huddling together at the top of a young pine tree.

The bear lifted it's snout, sniffing the air before it suddenly lunged forward and rammed into the tree.

Grunting noises escaping its mouth and Olórin grit his teeth, keeping his hold on Alatáriel with his right arm while his left arm wrapped around a nearby branch. The trees in this part of the woodland were young and not fully grown and he knew that if the bear continued his assault upon the trunk of the tree, it would likely break and they would fall.

What do we do, Feangol, if the bear doesn't stop attacking the tree? Alatáriel's troubled voice reached out to his mind and he turned his gaze to her, resolve and determination blooming on his features as he replied,

Then I will have no choice but to kill it.

Another shudder raced up the entirety of the tree, more violent then the last assault, a cracking sound of wood splitting erupting in the air and the Maia's feet slipped out from under him, his hold around Alatáriel loosened.

Another strike hammered against the tree,the maia's face a mask of terror as his lady was ripped from his arm, her lithe form crashing down onto the forest floor, her cry of alarm driving him into action.

"Alatáriel!" Olórin screamed and he leapt out of the tree without thought or fear of his own safety. He landed beside her, his eyes falling on hers, watching them widen in alarm as she looked past his shoulder. Whirling around the Maia gripped the hilt of Haldanar and he drew it out in one quick motion, an intense white light exploding from its blade and the bear halted its charge, mesmerized by the glow, Olórin's voice full of power as he shouted out, "You will not harm her! Be gone and return to the wood or I will strike you down!"

The bear grunted, eyes still dark and it rose on its hind legs, unleashing a loud roar but Olórin held firm, his own features twisted into a look of determination and defiance.

He felt his lady rise, her hands clasping the fabric of his cloak and he wrapped his free arm back protectively around her, his gaze still fixed on the bear who dropped onto all fours, shaking its massive head as if to clear it.

The red faded from the creature's eyes, confusion taking hold in the brown orbs and it backed up, grunting and stamping its fore paws before turning and slowly stalking away.

 Olórin caught sight of something small and black stuck in the bear's hind quarters and recognized it as fletching material from an arrow. His eyes narrowed as he moved in time with the bear, his hold still around Alatáriel and he lowered Haldanar only when the beast was long out of sight. Sheathing the sword, the light instantly dissipated and he turned, embracing his Melda Heri, holding her tight to him as he felt her tremble.

"It's alright now, Alatáriel. He's gone."

The she-elf could not control her shaking, frowning at the weakness she felt.

Everything had happened so fast that she was still trying to process what had just occurred. The power she felt from Feangol when he had spoke then unleashed that strange weapon had made her shiver. And it confused her.

Why do I feel this way? I should be afraid so why am I not? Why do I continue to shake if it is not fear that is causing it?

She clung to him, her heart racing, even as he led her back outside of the woodland, back into the valley of tall grass, the rain continuing to fall, bogging down their progress as their clothes were soaked.

Olórin kept his lady close, guiding her along, frowning at how quiet Alatáriel had become. He sensed no fear from her but she continued to shake and he wondered if it were due to the weather.

Though elves were immune to the effects of the elements, that didn't mean they enjoyed being uncomfortable and his eyes searched for some sort of solid shelter. He spied a series of rock formations near the base of part of the Pelori mountains that stretched beyond the forest and he changed direction, leading his lady forward, frowning at the rumble of thunder above them.

The storm grew more fierce, driving rain pelting the two elves and it was very dark by the time they reached the edge of a cliff formation, his eyes searching the dark, finding a small rock shelter and he led her inside, inspecting the area. No animals lived within the shallow walls and he turned to his Melda Heri, voice soft, "We can rest here for a while, Alatáriel."

The Noldor Princess was grateful for the shelter from the storm and she nodded, sinking to the floor as she leaned against the cold stone, her eyes cast downward as she listened to Feangol speak. "Are you hungry, my lady?"

The she-elf shook her head, gathering her courage as she lifted her gaze, focusing her attention on the silver haired elf as she asked, "What happened in the wood today, Feangol?"

The Maia slid off the bag strapped over his shoulder, laying it on the ground as he sunk down to sit opposite of her. "I do not know, Alatáriel. The bear seemed to be... possessed... but I heard and sensed no dark voice... I cannot say with certainty why it attacked us."

"That is not what I meant, Feangol," she said, her eyes on his. "I meant that light... your voice.. that weapon... how did you come by all that?"

He met her gaze, voice soft though inwardly he was regretful for having to reveal the truth of Haldanar. "When I was attacked by the mountain lion and Oromë arrived, he gave me a weapon to protect me should I need it. I had hoped to not use it, but I could not let the bear hurt you. If I had to kill it, I would have done so."

Her gaze traveled to the belt of Feangol's tunic, brow furrowed. "Yet I cannot see it, is it some kind of magical weapon?"

"Yes... forged by Aulë himself," the Maia answered, looking away as he added, "I am sorry if I frightened you, I have never used this weapon before, I did not know the true extent of its power."

She studied her beloved, features softening. "I was not afraid of you or what happened when you wielded that blade," she replied, rising to sit beside him, her voice low as she reached out to touch his face, whispering, "I was enraptured. You were breathtaking to watch and I knew you would let no harm come to me."

"But... you were shaking... I thought..." His voice trailed off at the intense look in his beloved's features.

"It wasn't fear that made me shiver, Feangol..." she whispered, leaning in to kiss him slowly, murmuring against his lips. "It was joy... excitement..."

His eyes widened a bit at the closeness of her and the way she kissed him, returning it with equal slowness, before he deepened it, his body alive with the sense of her and he pulled her tight to him, lost in the taste and feel of her, even as part of him feared he would be unable to hold back the longing he felt for his Melda Heri.

Chapter Text

YT 1432

A burst of lightning exploded near the entrance of the cave, the flash of light blinding in its intensity. The resulting clap of thunder was earsplitting in its cadence, frightening the pair and they broke apart, struggling to breathe.

The rush of blood raced through their bodies from the physical contact and Olórin snapped his head to the side, his handsome features illuminated by another burst of lightning.

This storm isn't normal.

The Maia felt Alatáriel cling to him and he turned his head back to study her. The desire that had flared in her lovely azure eyes had tempered, replaced with a look of fear that made him want to comfort her. "It is alright, my lady. This storm should pass soon," he murmured, keeping his hold around the she-elf, his troubled gaze returning once more to the entrance of the cave.

The Noldo Princess had been lost in the sensation of Feangol's closeness. Their kiss had been heated and her body had ached for his touch. But the storm that now raged outside had drawn her out of her state of need, reason returning to her and she calmed the pounding of her heart.

Another bright flash of light erupted, casting an eerie glow that frightened her for some reason she could not explain and so she clung to the silver haired elf, squeezing her eyes shut against the onslaught of lightning unleashing itself in the atmosphere before burying her face in his neck.

In all her existence Alatáriel had never experienced a storm of such magnitude. It made her feel small and powerless. "I don't like this, Feangol," she whispered against his skin. "Why has the storm not stopped by now?"

Olórin's mind concurred with his lady's, his blue eyes glowing as he studied the constant flashes of light.

He knew that Manwë would use lightning at times as a warning of impending danger or for behavior that went against the law of the Valar.

Was that what was happening here? Had he and his Melda Heri committed a violation in the closeness of their physical contact? Was he watching them now?

No, he reasoned. We broke off our intimate moment. The storm would have stopped if it were meant for us.

That left an external reason and his eyes narrowed, recalling the recent bear attack and he willed his eyes closed, sending up a silent prayer to Varda, knowing that the lady of light would hear his words.

At once the lightning receded, the rumbling of thunder grew silent and the darkness abated. The Maia opened his eyes, the worry in his heart easing and he spoke softly in the cool air that surrounded them. "It is alright now, Alatáriel, the storm has passed."

The lady lifted her head, opening her eyes to looking up at Feangol then out to the cave entrance, relief filling her at the sight and she relaxed against him. "Thank the Valar..." she praised before asking, "Have you ever seen a storm like that before, Feangol?"

Olórin frowned. "No. Not at this magnitude, but Manwë has been known from time to time to use lightning as a warning to others."

Her eyes widened at the thought that came to her. "Do you think he was mad at us?"

The Maia turned his gaze back to her, voice soft and reassuring, "No, my lady. I don't think the storm was meant for us."

"Then who was it meant for?"

Olórin thought back to the arrow that was lodged in the hindquarters of the bear that had attacked them, voicing his belief as he answered, "Something or someone was in the woods hunting. While Oromë has elven followers that are allowed the privilege of the hunt, they are not allowed to force animals to do their bidding to harm others."

"You think someone deliberately set that bear upon us? But who would do such a thing?"

The Maia's features were thoughtful. "Tell me, Alatáriel, do you know of any elves that hunt with black arrows?"

"Many of the Noldor hunt, including my cousins, but I cannot say what color arrows they use," she answered, curiosity in her eyes as she studied Feangol. "Why do you ask?"

"I ask because the bear that attacked us was struck with a large black arrow," he replied. "A spell must have been woven along the shaft. A spell only the light of Haldanar was able to break." A troubled look bloomed along the handsome elf's face as he added, "Someone has been following us, waiting for an opportunity to cause harm."

He rose, gently pulling Alatáriel with him. "We should keep moving. That storm only delayed our pursuer and it will take over two weeks to reach Tirion if we continue to travel by foot. Until we reach the safety of the city, we are still very much in danger."

The Noldo Princess went as she was pulled, voice growing stronger as she spoke, "I do not like the idea of being followed, Feangol. We should seek out this person and confront them. They cannot be allowed to continue in this shameful behavior."

"Trust me, my lady, I have a plan to find out who is behind this," he replied, leading her out into the open field of Valinor, keeping close to the base of the mountain.

Using his power of speech, he sang out in the language of birds, his voice traveling upon the wind, a cry of an eagle answering his call, circling down and the Maia held out his arm. The great bird landing gracefully upon it, cocking its head to the side as Olórin relayed his message and the bird flew up, soaring high above the peaks of the Pelori, vanishing in the clouds that hovered high in the sky.

"What did you say to the bird, Feangol?" the she-elf asked, still too new at learning the language of birds to understand what her beloved had said.

Olórin kept his gaze up towards the sky. "Simply that we were in need of assistance from one of his greater brethren."

"Greater brethren?"

"Yes," He replied, pointing up towards the peaks of the mountain. "There."

The lady's eyes grew wide, gawking in disbelief at the sight that met her view.

A massive shape took form, circling around before bursting through the clouds, a great cry carried by the wind as a giant eagle swooped down towards them. It hovered as it lowered down to the ground, the flapping of its large wings tossing up dirt and grass into the air before settling down.

Brown feathers ruffled in the breeze that swirled around it, their intelligent golden eyes studying the elven pair and it spoke in a voice strong though feminine, "Greetings first born. I am Endiel, servant of Manwë, who has heard your plea and answered. I will bear you to Tirion so that you may conclude your journey in safety."

Olórin bowed his head slightly, pleased that the great bird had not addressed him by his true name. "We thank you, Endiel. We are very grateful for your assistance."

The bird nodded at the Maia, lowering down so that the elves could climb onto her back.

Alatáriel gazed in awe at the sight of such a rare creature, blinking as she felt Feangol gently coax her to walk with him over to the great eagle. she felt him release her hand only to gasp a bit when she felt his hands on her hips, lifting her up to sit just beyond the bird's neck before he slid up behind her. "How did you do this, Feangol?"

He heard the wonder in his lady's voice, trying not to chuckle as he guided her on how to grip the feathers on Endiel's neck. "Do what, my lady?"

"Manage to convince one of the great eagles to come down from Taniquetil to help us?"

"I have learned many ways to communicate with the animals and beings of this world," he began, answering in a soft voice as he grabbed onto Endiel. "I have taught you some of those methods, why should I not also know how to pray for assistance from one of the Valar?"

Alatáriel was about to reply only to gasp as Endiel spread her wings and began to fly into the sky.

She gripped onto the bird's feathers tightly, her stomach flipping at the sensation of flying and she laughed in joy at the wind that caressed her face. "This is wonderful!" she shouted, her eyes sweeping over the land beyond and below.

It was simply breathtaking to be able to witness the power of the sea as it lapped against the shoreline of Valinor. Herds of deer danced and raced through the grass fields below. The mountain range seemed even larger than life as they flew along its edge and she lifted her gaze upward where silver light illuminated the sky.

The stars were visible above, seemingly close enough to touch and she leaned back against Feangol who wrapped an arm around her waist. "It's so beautiful, Feangol. I never knew how vast Valinor was until now."

The Maia smiled tenderly, leaning in to whisper in her ear, "Not as beautiful as you, my lady."

She shivered in delight at his words and the closeness of him, her gaze shifting towards the beacon of light straight ahead, the tower of Ingwë glowing brighter as they closed in on the outskirts of Tirion.

Endiel carefully circled around and down, coming to land gently at the edge of the city's western border. Olórin released his hold around his lady and slide off first. Reaching up, her helped Alatáriel down, coming around to stand before the great eagle as he spoke in a respectful tone, "I thank you, Endiel, for bearing us to Tirion. It was an honor to have you as our guide back to the city."

"You are most welcome, Feangol of the Teleri. May the blessings of Manwë guide you in your life with the lady Alatáriel. Nemarië."

The Maia was surprised at being called by his elvish name as he raised his arm and put it to his chest, swinging it out in a slow and graceful movement. "Nemarië."

He watched as Endiel flapped her wings, rising into the sky, departing back to Taniquetil.

"Feangol?"

"Yes, my lady?" he replied, turning his attention back down to the she-elf.

"You said you had a plan to find out who was following us. Was this it? Returning to the city so quickly?"

He took her hand, leading her into Tirion, voice and features focused. "It was part of it, yes. By arriving here in a matter of hours rather than weeks, we have time to find out who left the city after we did. They will be unable to hide their absence since we have beaten them back to Tirion."

She studied him with a smile, delighted at the reasoning of his mind, finding him even more beautiful than before. Though she was still puzzled at what had happened and what her beloved planned to do next. "But how do you know it was someone from Tirion? Could it not have been Melkor himself that caused the bear to attack us?"

Her logic was sound and normally the Maia would agree with her thoughts but no dark presence had been felt by him in the entirety of their journey and he shook his head. "It will be someone from here, Alatáriel. Someone with no love for either of us."

"Then you must know who it is."

"I have my suspicions," he said, features softening as they neared the Eastern quadrant of Tirion. "But for now we are safe. Let us go to your home. I'm sure your parents will be eager to hear of our travels.

They continued to walk hand in hand, making their way over the crystal bridge that led into Finarfin's estate.

Silver light faded, the darkness of night illuminated only by the brightness of Varda's stars. They opened the door, quietly entering, the pair surprised to find the Noldor King standing in the entry way to greet them.

"Ah, my daughter has returned and Feangol with her," he sang out warmly. "You must be tired from your long journey. Tonight you should go to the cleansing pools then retire for the evening. In the morning we shall have a feast to celebrate your return."

"How did you know we would arrive her tonight, father?"

"A little bird told me," he answered, favoring her with a smile. "So I remained awake to make sure you arrived here safely. I trust the trip went well?" he asked, hoping silently that an even stronger bond would be formed, leading to an announcement of betrothal.

"Yes, my lord," Feangol began, his expression growing serious as he spoke, "But there was a bit of trouble along the way."

Finarfin's smile fell, worry filling him as he asked, "What kind of trouble?"

"Our journey was filled with many surprises and joys but when we reached the Forest of Oromë we were attacked by a bear."

"A bear?" he repeated, looking over to his daughter in concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, father. Feangol saved me but the bear acted strange, as if it were hunting us on purpose."

"Do you believe this to be the case, Feangol?"

The Maia nodded. "Yes, my lord. The beast had been shot with a black arrow. A spell most likely was placed upon it in order to steer its will for a specific task."

"This is grave news indeed," Finarfin replied. "But who would do such a thing?"

"That is why we have returned early," Olórin answered. "Do you know of any elves that may have set off before we did or that use black arrows for hunting?"

The Noldor king tilted his head, features thoughtful. "Hmm... not that I am aware of but that should be easy enough to find out. As to who uses black arrows, I do not know but more than likely one of Fëanáro's sons would use such arrows, as they often go with Oromë on hunting trips in the great forest of Valinor," He paused, features tightening into a troubled look. "If what you say is true and one of my nephews orchestrated this, I will not be pleased."

"Trust me, my lord. I am unsettled by this as well. Whoever did this will not get away with it."

The blond elf nodded at the younger elf's words, pleased with his protective nature towards his only daughter. "I am glad to hear it, Feangol. But you must be careful. Until you have proof, you must not confront the person directly."

"I will refrain from violence, my lord, if at all possible, but I cannot let my future wife's life be threatened in any way."

Finarfin raised his eyebrows. "Future wife?" he said, turning his attention to Alatáriel who nodded, voice and features in a rare display of shyness.

"It's true, father. I have decided to marry Feangol. We are betrothed."

Joy filled the Noldor King's heart and face, beaming at his daughter as he exclaimed, "This is wonderful news indeed! The feast shall be even greater tomorrow! Your mother will be happy to know all this as well. We shall have to commission a set of silver rings for you two."

Walking over to his daughter he reached out, taking her hands in his own, pride upon his face. "My daughter you have always traveled upon your own path, your fierce independence is to be admired and the strength of your convictions knows no bounds. That you have decided to marry now is a wonderful gift for your family and for your future. I know you will carry on the honor of our house well."

"Father..." Alatáriel murmured, blushing. "I'm getting married, not moving away."

"Yes... yes of course," he replied then turned his attention to Feangol. "You love my daughter and have protected her from danger. I know are a good and wise elf. But there is a light in your eyes that speaks of strength unmatched with those of your sea kin. You, Feangol, will always keep her safe and cared for. I have no worries or concerns entrusting her to you."

"I will always love and care for Alatáriel," Olórin replied. "Even until the ending of the world."

Alatáriel felt her heart flutter at his vow, her voice loving as she spoke, "And I will love Feangol for all of eternity."

Finarfin released his daughter's hands, studying the pair with a happy heart. "Then it is settled. You will formally announce your betrothal at the feast tomorrow. Rings shall be exchanged and marriage will take place one year from this day. But for now, you must clean up and rest. You two have a long day tomorrow."

"Yes, my lord," Feangol said with a bow.

"Yes, father," Alatáriel replied, with a bow of her head.

Finarfin watched as the pair retreated to the cleansing pools, pleased that the journey had brought them ever closer together.

Yet it could not be denied that the news of the bear attack was troubling.

He looked back towards the doorway then beyond the crystal bridge and into the heart of the city.

Who was it that had threatened his daughter and Feangol's life?

And how do we deal with the one who set this attack in motion? 

With a soft sigh, Finarfin turned and head upstairs to his room, needing rest of his own before the big day tomorrow.

The next day brought music and dancing.

A great spread of food lined the massive table, many conversations went on at once, joy filling the halls of Finarfin's house. Many of the Noldor had come to partake in the festivities, including Aracáno and his children, though none of Fëanáro's kin was present.

The blond Noldor was not surprised.

Though he had been a gracious host, sending out invitations to his eldest brother, he knew the fiery smith had little love for him or his kin. Though lately he had seemed interested in talking to his daughter. The topic of which the elder brother would not elaborate on and Finarfin was all too happy to inform his brother that Alatáriel was unavailable, having taken a journey to visit the two trees with Feangol.

The mention of the silver haired elf had upset Fëanáro and Finarfin figured it was due to the younger elf being a Teleri, whom his elder brother considered weak and primitive.

Finarfin shook his head.

His wife was a Teleri and no more weak or primitive than many of the Noldor that walked the streets of Tirion.

You always were full of foolish pride, brother, he thought, casting his gaze over to his daughter.

She looked alive and happy, answering questions and holding conversation with her cousin Írissë.

The two Noldor Princesses laughed suddenly, causing Feangol to blush darkly and the blond Noldor King could not help but smile.

They must be teasing him over something.

He shifted his gaze back to the entrance of his garden, delighted to find the ring maker, Sildion, approaching with a small box.

"The rings as you requested, Lord Finarfin," the dark haired smith sung out softly, his gray eyes twinkling as he handed the box gently over to the Noldor King.

"Thank you, Sildion. I am certain they are as well crafted as the other rings you have made for my kin," Finarfin replied, taking the box carefully. "Please stay and partake of our wine and food."

"It would be an honor, my lord." Sildion said softly, giving a slight bow before heading over to retrieve a glass of wine.

Olórin for his part remained polite, if a little bit shy, around so many guests.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the company of elves, but to have so many of them asking questions about his family and where he came from and how he came to love his Melda Heri, was becoming a bit trying to answer without yanking his hair out.

Nienna help me keep my patience.

It didn't help when his beloved and her female cousin had snickered about marriage rituals and what exactly would occur after the feast was over and the two consummated their relationship. His blush had made them bust out in laughter and he grumbled silently, taking the teasing.

Despite this, he maintained his focus, searching out various party members, ears listening to any clues as to who was not currently in the city. He picked up something of interest from the tall elf called Findekáno, who was a cousin to his lady.

"I spoke to Nelyafinwë and asked him to come celebrate with us but he told me he could not. His father had forbidden it. Though I'm not sure why waiting for Curufinwë to return from his hunting trip has anything to do with a betrothal feast."

As I thought, Olórin commented silently, not suprised that his suspicion had been correct.

Still, without proof, the Maia could not confront his nemesis directly.

I need to find out if he uses black arrows.

He started forward, about to ask Findekáno about this supposed hunting trip when the sound of a bell rang in the air. He paused, turning to find Finarfin standing in the center of the garden, his voice strong as he spoke.

"Honored guests. Today is a great day for my family. My lovely daughter, Alatáriel, has chosen to marry her dearest friend, Feangol. Now it is time for the presenting of rings and the vow of betrothal. Let the two lovers come forward to accept their rings."

The Maia went to his lady, taking her hand in his own, walking together to stand before Finarfin.

The blond Noldor King smiled at the pair, delight in his features as he opened the box, revealing two silver rings, one larger than the other and the pair reached out, removing the silver bands before turning to each other.

"I promise to marry and honor you, my lady, with all that I am," Olórin sang out softly, knowing the ritual for betrothal in his long years upon Valinor. To say them now, before the woman he loved with his whole heart, made his stomach flutter but he lifted his hand, sliding the silver ring on his Melda Heri's finger, his features tender and his heart threatening to burst at the look of love upon the she-elf's face.

Tears sprang in Alatáriel's eyes. The love she felt from Feangol washing over her, making her heart fluttery and her body shiver with joy. Taking the silver ring in her hand, she slid the band onto Feangol's finger, voice soft and full of emotion. "And I promise to marry and honor you, sweet Feangol, with all that is in me."

The pair leaned forward, sharing a simple kiss as cheers erupted, making the pair blush and they pulled apart, standing hand in hand as they faced the crowd.

"The betrothal is now official! Let the feasting begin!" Finarfin shouted, urging the pair to sit down at the table, joining them as the party settled in to dine. After eating, music began to play softly once more and many pairs took to dancing slowly and in time with the rhythm, laughter and merriment permeated the air and in this moment, Olórin forgot everything but Alatáriel as he held her close, dancing gracefully with her, his eyes bright and loving, though a sudden pain flashed in his heart.

"My lady, the stars are shining in your eyes. I pray that the light of your love never fades," he whispered to her, his voice tinged in sadness.

Alatáriel's brow furrowed at the melancholy tone of her beloved, going still as she loosened her arms, reaching up to cup his face. "Sweet Feangol. My love will never fade. Not even death itself could stop the way my heart feels for you. Now is a time for joy not sorrow, so do not be troubled. Enjoy our time together. Tomorrow will take care of itself."

Feangol smiled, studying his love as he leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. "You are right. I worry too much." He kissed her then, gently and slowly, blinking and pulling apart at the cheers that rose up around them.

The Noldor Princess laughed lightly, eyes twinkling, lowering her hands as a lively tune began to play and she drew Feangol back to her, their movements quick and carefree, enjoying the moment in time even until the feast ended and the guests departed.

Chapter Text

YT 1432

"So you believe Curufinwë is behind your attack?" Finarfin asked, studying his future son-in-law with troubled eyes.

"Yes," Olórin replied. "I overheard Findekáno discussing Nelyafinwë being forbidden from attending the betrothal feast because they were waiting on his brother, Curufinwë, to return from his hunting trip." He paused then sighed. "It is no secret that he dislikes me. Ever since my arrival in Tirion, Curufinwë has sought me out, goading me, disapproving of Alatáriel's insistence of me as her beloved. I do not know if it is out of jealousy or spite, but his aggressiveness has increased exponentially in these last few years."

The blond Noldor King frowned, shifting his gaze away from Feangol towards the Western zone of Tirion, within which lay Fëanáro's household. "Long has there been animosity between the three houses of Finwë. I have done my best to stay out of the conflict but this news requires a response. The only question is how to go about it."

Olórin's features were thoughtful. True it would be hard to prove anything until Curufinwë arrived back in the city, but if Manwë had sensed or witnessed the bear attack, then Oromë would know of it as well. "I think, my lord, that the answer may lie with the Valar themselves."

"The Valar?" Finarfin replied, quirking an eyebrow. "Do you believe they have seen what occurred in the forest?"

"There was an intense storm after our escape from the bear. Full of wind and lightning. Manwë will at times unleash such atmospheric fury as a warning for transgressions against others or when there is a violation of Valinor law. If the lord of the Valar witnessed what transpired, then..."

"Then it stands to reason some of the other Valar have as well," Finarfin finished for the younger elf. "If that is the case, what will the Valar do?"

"I do not know," Olórin answered. "It is possible that Curufinwë will be punished before ever arriving back in Tirion. It is also possible that they will leave it up to his peers to decide his fate. We shall have to wait and see."

The Maia's serious expression softened as he sensed the presence of Alatáriel and he turned, favoring her with a tender smile. "Good morning, my lady."

Alatáriel flashed a happy smile at her beloved. "Good morning, Feangol," she greeted in return, looking over towards Finarfin, bowing her head slightly. "Good morning, father." Her steps were graceful as she walked towards the two male elves. "May I join you?"

"Of course," Finarfin replied, beckoning his daughter closer. "We were just discussing what to do when your cousin arrives in the city. But I do believe we should talk about your plans after the wedding. Do you know where you'd like to live?"

The lady moved to stand beside Feangol, twining her left arm with the right arm of the silver haired elf, eyes twinkling as she looked up at her love. "Wherever Feangol is, so too, shall I be. It matters not where we live."

Finarfin studied the young lovers, marveling at the depth of their feelings in regards to the other and he spoke softly. "You truly do love each other. I can see it in your eyes. But you must also understand the practical matters of marriage. You will need a home of your own. Particularly for your wedding night."

Olórin blushed, recalling the marriage rituals and what they would entail, voice as shy as he suddenly felt, "My... lord.. we... understand what we must do, but the decision on where to live is up to Alatáriel. This is her city and her people. I go where she goes."

Finarfin blinked at the blush upon Feangol's fair features, letting out a small laugh at his reaction in regards to the consummation of the marriage vows. "Do not fret, Feangol, when the moment comes, you'll know what to do. It will be the same for you, my daughter," he added, looking over at the she-elf. "So when you decide on where to live, let me know. For now, I'll leave you two alone."

Olórin gave a slight bow of his head, his beloved doing the same. The Maia watched the older elf leave, blinking when he felt his lady's hand upon his cheek. He turned, looking down at her, voice soft, " Alatáriel..."

His whisper was reverent, full of love and devotion and she could not help but move closer to him in reaction. "I missed you at breakfast this morning," she whispered, caressing his cheek. "I sensed worry in your heart and mind so I came looking for you. Do you still fear what is to come?"

He leaned into her touch, nuzzling her wrist as he answered, "I fear what will happen once I confront Curufinwë. I do not wish to fight, but nor can I allow his behavior to go unpunished."

"You truly believe it was my cousin that caused the attack?"

"Yes," he replied. "According to your cousin, Findekáno, Curufinwë went on a hunting trip. No other elf has left the city since our departure and return. Your father checked this morning."

The Noldor Princess bit her lip. "I do not want you hurt, Feangol. Especially by him."

The Maia's gaze grew tender, reaching out to caress the she-elf's left cheek with the back of his fingers. "I do not want to be hurt, either, my lady. I will try to be discreet in finding out the truth of what occurred." Slowly he shifted his hand, tracing his fingers along her lips, voice soft. "Let us not speak anymore of this matter. It has taken enough of the time that I should be spending with you."

Alatáriel kissed his fingertips, sliding her arms up and around his neck, looking up at him with open adoration. "I agree."

She leaned up to kiss him, delight filling her as he returned the kiss, body shivering as he pulled her tight to him.

She made his body come alive and he groaned at the taste of her. It was so easy to become lost in her that he forgot himself, holding her tight against him. The way she shivered made him more bold and he slid his hand up, gently twining his fingers into her hair, deepening the kiss, pulling apart only when the need for air kicked in, her name a prayer upon his lips, "Alatáriel.."

"Feangol..." The lady panted out, eyes dark as she studied her beloved. The rapid beat of his heart excited her, the intensity of his love and desire for her filled her senses, rendering her dizzy, and she clung to him, resting her face in his neck. "Beautiful Feangol, you know not how easily you affect me."

Olórin groaned at the way she clung to him, his body responding instantly and it was difficult to calm himself down. "My body knows, lovely Alatáriel," he whispered. "As does my heart."

He reached up to caress her hair. "I admit... I am most eager for the wedding to take place so that I may show you how much I love and desire you."

Alatáriel blushed, nuzzling his neck as she murmured, "I can tell how much you're affected, Feangol."

He blinked, looking down at her, his features turning a bright shade of red at the realization that his lady could tell just how greatly her body against his affected him. "I.. that is... I'm sorry... I didn't mean..."

Alatáriel laughed softly, pulling back to look at him. "Silly elf, I am not naive to the way your body reacts to me. I would be disappointed if you didn't react to my closeness."

He frowned. "Still... I should be in better control of myself..."

She shook her head at his words, shifting her right arm, reaching up to sooth his look of worry. "You concern yourself too much with rules and control. You love me. That your body reacts to me is only normal. So don't fret, I enjoy the response your body makes to my closeness."

Her fingers rubbed at the worry lines on his forehead, smoothing them and he relaxed at her words.

"As you say, my lady."

She laughed softly and pulled back, tugging him with her as they walked the city streets, reveling in each others company until the stars were the only light and they retired for the evening.

Two weeks passed without any incidents, the Maia content in his time with his Melda Heri. He settled down for a meditative sleep as Tirion remained quiet and still, save for a small moth that fluttered high in the sky.

Translucent wings glimmered in the starlight as the small creature circled, descending through the open balcony of Olórin's room. It floated down next to the silver haired elf's ear, resting on the pillow, its tiny voice whispering, drawing Olórin into the realm of waking.

He listened, eyelids opening, turning his head, gaze focused on the moth. "Thank you, my friend," he replied, watching as the moth rose into the air, disappearing the way it arrived.

Olórin shifted off the bed, sliding on his clothing and boots, leaving Haldanar where it lay.

Unarmed, the Maia silently crept down the stairs, heading out the door and into the city, sneaking through the streets, heading towards the Western entrance.

His elvish eyes spied an encroaching figure robed in black and he began to move closer, lowering down suddenly as he spied movement to his left. Two elves approached and he focused his gaze, recognizing the features of Turkafinwë and his younger brother Morifinwë. Two more sons of Fëanáro.

What is going on? he wondered and crept closer, hugging the wall of the nearby building, keeping low and out of sight, watching as the cloaked figure stopped, pale fingers clutching the fabric tightly against his form, as if concealing something and the Maia's eyes widened as the cape was set loose, revealing a quiver full of black arrows.

His ears picked up hissing voices and he concentrated his hearing, listening to the conversation as the three elves spoke.

"It took you long enough," the fair haired Turkafinwë growled, taking the outstretched quiver. "And your mission failed, as usual."

The cloaked figure pulled back his hood, revealing the agitated features of Curufinwë. "I was delayed. A damn storm broke out, concealing their movements. I don't know how it was they escaped but I lost them weeks ago."

"That is because they arrived here weeks ago," Morifinwe growled, his dark hair tugged by the growing wind that swirled around and through the city as he invaded the older elf's space. "Betrothed to boot."

"What?!" Curufinwë snapped, eyeing his younger brother in shock.

"Seems little brother isn't as clever as he thought he was," Turkafinwë taunted drawing the younger elf's attention. "Perhaps if you had just asked nicely, you would have claimed the prize without resorting to stalking and using magic spells."

"I am a Noldor Prince," Curufinwë growled. "I don't ask, I demand."

"And that is why you have nothing to show for your time chasing our cousin and her lover."

The dark cloaked brother sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I tried several times to sneak up on them but that blasted Telerin took to the trees to rest. I couldn't get close enough to steal any strands."

Strands?  Were they talking about Alatáriel's hair?

But what would they want with those? he wondered, focusing his hearing as the trio continued their discussion.

"Father will be most displeased to hear that," Turkafinwë murmured.

"I still can't understand how they managed to elude me."

"No? Well, let me enlighten you, brother," Turkafinwë began, "One of the crows told me that the Telerin managed to call forth Endiel who in turn carried them here. Perhaps he is not as weak as you thought he was?"

"Shut up!" Curufinwë snapped. "He's a Telerin. They are all weak. Look at what mixing with them has done to Finarfin's house. It's made them soft and weak. They lack the fire and the will to build and expand, content to be as they are."

"True... Finarfin's spawn are rather weak and pathetic save for Alatáriel. She would make for a worthy prize," Turkafinwë commented, blinking as Morifinwë chimed in.

"As I said. They are betrothed. There is no way to break that bond, despite my distaste of the union."

"Unless he were to die," Curufinwë replied.

"Was that what you were trying to do?" the fair haired brother asked, quirking an eyebrow in surprise.

The smaller elf said nothing, letting the silence speak for him.

"Hmm... be that as it may, you return with nothing more than a quiver of arrows. If there is nothing else to tell, then we should return home before we are spotted and you can explain to father your failure."

Curufinwë's irritation grew to rage as he snarled, "How was I supposed to know the Telerin had a magical weapon?!"

"A magical weapon?" Turkafinwë murmured. "What did it look like?"

"It glowed in the darkness, chasing it away. It had a silver hilt and a long blade... longer than any of our knives... and it radiated a power that I've never felt before... as if Eru himself was part of the metal. The spell on the bear broke and they escaped."

Olórin frowned at having unwittingly revealed Haldanar to his nemesis and he backed up, trying quietly to sneak away only to freeze when he heard Turkafinwë whisper,

"We're being watched..."

The Maia looked up, spying a owl, watching as it snatched a moth out of the air, dropping his gaze and whirling around when he felt another presence behind him.

"Well, well... seems we have a Telerin who's become lost..." Turkafinwë sneered, staring contemptuously at the silver haired elf.

Though they were of the same height, the Noldor elf puffed up his chest, trying to intimidate the Telerin. "What do you think you're doing out so late in the evening, hmm?"

"The same as you," Olórin answered, his posture and features calm though inside his instincts told him to run. "Waiting for your brother to return."

"My, my... whatever for?"

"I think you already know," the Maia countered. "And now that I've witnessed your brother reveal that he has black arrows, the answer to who the attacker was that shot the bear is clear."

Turkafinwë's eyes narrowed. "That will be a bit hard to prove without the very arrow shot in this supposed bear, do you not think?"

"No matter what you think or believe, your brother has to answer for his actions."

"Answer to whom? You cannot prove anything with mere words and conjecture."

"I don't have to," Olórin countered. "Manwë already witnessed it. Your brother mentioned a storm in the conversation. That is my proof. The Valar king only lets loose storms when someone is doing something wrong. Since he was the only one still remaining outside of the city, that means it was he who shot the bear."

"You shouldn't have said that, Telerin, " Turkafinwë replied with a gleeful look of malice, "Now we're going to have to teach you a lesson for eavesdropping." His gaze shifted past the Maia's shoulder. "Grab him."

Olórin whirled around, finding Curufinwë and Morifinwë closing in on him and he dodged the smallest elf of the three, jumping up and away, swiveling around as Turkafinwë lashed out with some kind of club, diamond sand erupting as the attack struck the the ground and the Maia's anxiety rose as he felt an arm wrap around his throat.

He clawed at the forearm, using his leverage to lean forward, tapping into his hidden power, throwing Curufinwë over his shoulder, tossing him into the racing form of Morifinwë, the pair of them crashing into the ground.

He rose, rubbing his neck, gasping at the sudden explosion of pain that flared in the back of his head. Bursts of red light erupted in his eyes, his cry stifled as another blow struck the left side of his head, blood splattering from the ferocity of the attack, driving him to his knees and he caught himself with his hands as he fell forward, his body lifted in the air by a vicious kick to his side, the sound of bone breaking ringing in his already fuzzy ears as he crashed into the wall of a nearby building.

His eyelids grew heavy and his body grew still, his mind fading as he cried out silently, Alatáriel!

The Noldor Princess tossed and turned in her sleep, troubling visions plaguing her and the sound of her beloved calling out to her caused Alatáriel to bolt upright.

"Feangol!" she cried in distress. Her own body screaming in pain, as if she was inside his own skin and she jumped out of bed, racing down the hall, grabbing at the handle to the silver haired elf's door, turning it and bursting into the room, eyes wide with panic at the sight of an empty bed.

His life force was fading and in desperation she tore down the stairs and out of the safety of her father's house, still in her night attire, bounding over the bridge, her long legs carrying her towards the Western side of Tirion.

Hang on, Feangol. I'm coming!

Morifinwë stared at his older brother in shock. "What have you done, Turkafinwë?" He murmured, his gaze shifting from the prone form of Feangol to the bloody club still clutched in the fair haired elf's hand.

"What you and our brother couldn't do!" he snapped, tucking the club behind his belt, watching as Curufinwë untangled himself from his brother, stalking over to the silver haired Telerin.

He crouched down, roughly padding along the Maia's tunic belt, growling. "Where is it?"

"Where is what?" Morifinwë asked watching his older brother search the silver haired elf.

"His blade! That magic weapon. It's got to be here somewhere!"

"If he had it, he would have used it!" Turkafinwë snarled, turning his gaze to his right, a sudden and intense power was heading straight towards them and he hissed. "Leave it be! We have to get out of here before we're caught!"

"But what about..."

"I said leave it!" the fair haired elf ordered, grabbing Curufinwë roughly by the arm, yanking him up to his feet.

The trio raced off, leaving the bleeding Maia alone in the now quiet street.

______________________

Alatáriel's bare feet glided over the silky sand that lined the streets of Tirion, her eyes darting about, visually searching for her beloved, her nightdress fluttering as she raced forward, beyond the swan fountain, entering the Western section of the city.

Rounding a corner, her searching gaze suddenly fell upon the fallen form of Feangol and she came to a dead stop.

Eyes wide in fright and shock, she stumbled forward with shaking legs that gave way and she dropped to her knees.

Reaching out, Alatáriel turned the silver haired elf onto his side, tears in her eyes at the sight of blood smeared along the left side of his face and neck. The lady cradled his head in her hands, searching his face for some sign of life.

His heartbeat was thready and his breathing was shallow and in her fear she closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his, giving strength to her inner voice as she sent out to Finarfin, Father! Please help me! Feangol has been attacked in the city!

The Noldor King's eyes snapped open at the sound of his daughter's voice in his mind.

He turned his head, studying the sleeping form of Eärwen resting to his left and he carefully tossed off the covers, sliding his legs to the side, rising and he marched over to his folded clothing, quickly dressing before rushing down the stairs and out into the city, guided by the fear in his daughter's voice.

He rounded a corner beyond the swan fountain, coming to a stop as he spied Alatáriel cradling Feangol. He went to the pair, crouching down, brow furrowed at the sight of his daughter's bloodied hands and forehead, her nightdress stained red from the crimson fluid that continue to pump out from a rather nasty gash on the left side of his head and he whispered softly, " Alatáriel?"

His daughter looked up at him, tears staining her cheeks, the pain and fear reflected in her eyes making Finarfin's heart break.

The king did not ask what had happened or why his future son-in-law was out in the city at such a late hour. Instead he reached out, carefully removing Feangol from his daughter's grip, cradling the younger elf in his arms as he rose. Carefully he moved, making he way towards the closest healing house.

He looked behind his shoulder to make sure Alatáriel was following before focusing his gaze ahead, stepping into the healing house, calling out in a soft but insistent voice, "Mistress Hópiel, are you here?"

He heard the sound of fabric being rustled and the king turned his head to his right, watching as a dark curtain was drawn back, revealing the tall form of a dark haired she-elf. Her brown eyes were warm and calming as they focused on the trio standing in the entryway and she glided over to them. "Lord Finarfin, you have someone in need of healing I see."

"Yes. His name is Feangol, a friend of my family and the beloved of my daughter, Alatáriel. He has been grievously wounded and is in need of your care."

Hópiel turned, waving them to follow. "This way please."

Finarfin walked behind the healer, waiting for the lady to pull back the curtain before stepping inside the darkened room. He moved forward, laying the prone form of Feangol onto the bed, stepping back to allow the healer access, watching as she moved over to a water bowl, steam rising from it's heated surface.

The lady dipped a clean towel into the water, wringing it out, sitting on the side of the bed as she gently and carefully wiped the blood away from the gash, her brow furrowed as she leaned in, inspecting it. It continued to bleed and she lifted her hand, hovering it over the injury, singing a song of healing to staunch the blood flow. Lowering her hand, she once again began to wipe away the blood, dipping the cloth into the water, gently turning the elf onto his side, frowning at the dried blood that matted in the hair, murmuring, "Your friend was attacked by someone with a rather vicious temper."

It was the first he had heard the healer speak since entering the room and the Noldor King blinked but asked, "So it was not an accident then?"

"No," Hópiel replied simply, reaching up as she spied something unusual stuck in the hair, pulling it out, holding it up for Finarfin to see. "A sliver of wood. Someone bashed him in the head twice, once in the back and once to the side." She paused, looking beyond the king to the form of Alatáriel whose stare was fixated solely on Feangol. "Your daughter has an injury of her own."

Finarfin turned, looking at his daughter in concern.

"You cannot see this wound, my lord," the healer replied softly, sympathy in her eyes as she studied the princess. "It is in her heart. She is in shock." She turned her gaze to the side, calling out softly, "Yániel, bring in another bowl of water, if you please and attend to the lady Alatáriel. "

A younger she-elf came in, carrying a blue bowl of water, sitting it down on the counter as she sung softly to the Noldor Princess, guiding her to the water, helping the lady cleanse her hands as she washed her forehead clear of blood, her words calm and soothing.

Finarfin watched over his daughter for a moment, turning his attention back to the healer as she spoke,

"Do you know who did this to him?" she asked, carefully applying a green salve along the gash and the now clean injury to the back of Feangol's head.

"No, my lady, I do not," Finarfin answered. "Though I suspect I know the culprit."

"One of Fëanáro's sons?" she asked, reaching out to grab a roll of bandages on a counter next to the bed, turning her attention back to the wounded elf, slowly and with great skill she bound the fabric around Feangol's head, cutting then tucking the fabric with enough pressure to keep it in place without restricting blood flow.

"How did you come by that assessment?" Finarfin asked, studying the healer with narrowed eyes.

"Because a few of them have rather wicked tempers and they have been known to attack each other during arguments and also to physically fight with those who displease them."

"I was unaware of the extent of their violent behavior."

"You do not meddle in their affairs, so you would not know much of their ways," Hópiel replied, her hand hovering over Feangol's body, gravitating to his left side. "Hmm... his ribs are broken as well... help me to remove his tunic will you, my lord."

Finarfin blinked but complied, frowning as Feangol's torso was exposed, revealing a nasty series of bruises and bumps along his left rib cage. "That pattern..."

"Looks like a boot, yes..." the healer finished for the blond elf, singing softly again, the bruises slowly fading as the bumps became smaller, bone reforming and she bound his torso with fabric, giving it the same treatment as she had for the wounds on his head. "This will take some time to heal, but your friend will live."

She drew back, pulling at the thin blanket at the foot of the bed, laying it over the prone form of Feangol, rising and turning to face the king and the now clean Alatáriel.

"Why would they do this to him?" the blond she-elf asked, in control of her emotions once again. Her eyes will still full of worry and her heart hurt but knowing he was going to be alright eased her fear and she went over to her beloved, reaching out to gently caress his cheek.

"He may have witnessed something they did not wish to have revealed," the healer began softly, watching the princess sit down beside the silver haired elf. "Or perhaps he was on bad terms with one of Fëanáro's sons and they finally took their vengeance out on him."

The lady's eyes narrowed, her features turning hard. Curufinwë! she thought angrily.

"When will he wake up?" Finarfin asked, looking from his daughter back to the healer.

"It is hard to say... when he was struck in the head, his spirit was loosened... his body is still tied to this realm but his mind and soul... the source of his being... is far from here..."

Alatáriel half listened, her focus upon Feangol, sending out silently. Come back to me, Feangol.. don't leave me here alone... I cannot bear it...

__________________________

Olórin heard his beloved's voice calling out to him and opened his eyes.

But it was not her face he saw.

Instead it was the fading light of the stars as a hint of gold began to grow, signaling the coming of morning and his brow furrowed.

Where am I? he wondered, rising from the ground. The familiar call of night birds drew his attention and he turned, eyes falling upon the water fountain that sat in the center of the Garden of Lórien.

"I am sorry, old friend, for having to bring you here, but you were in a bad way and I did not want you to suffer any more than you already were."

The Maia turned, finding Irmo standing before him and he bowed his head. "My lord, Irmo. It is good to see you again though I had hoped it would be in better circumstances than this."

"You were rather reckless, going out there all alone, with no one to assist you, Olórin. What if you had died? Your lady would likely not recover from your loss."

The Maia lowered his gaze. "It was foolish of me, I know... but I had word that Curufinwë was returning and I merely wanted to confirm his role in that attack that occurred while we were in the forest of Oromë."

Irmo studied his old pupil for a moment before replying. "Do not worry about that Noldor elf. If he does not admit to his wrongdoing when confronted out in the open, he will be dealt a swift punishment. Along with his brothers. But that cannot occur until Finarfin brings forth just cause."

The Maia sighed. "I do not wish to cause more discord between those two houses of Finwë. I tried to solve it but I have not the skill nor the ability to bring any kind of reconciliation between these... children..."

"Nor should you, Olórin. It is not your place and it is not something that can be done. Your beloved told you as much. No. The only thing you need to do is remain vigilant and ready."

The younger being frowned. "Vigilant and ready? For what?"

"That vision of yours, while it seems to have faded some from your memory, is the reason you are who you are now. It will come to pass. So you must be ready to face it and try to change the fate shown to you."

Understanding lit up the Maia's features. "That is the reason you had that sword forged."

"Yes... the light of Haldanar will never fade so long as those who serve Eru wield it. It is a holy light that burns the darkness, casting it away, revealing the truth that is masked. I believe it will aid you greatly in the time to come."

Olórin's face fell, voice troubled. "But... Alatáriel... what of her? Is it... Is my marrying her wrong?"

The dream master tilted his head. "Do you really think that Eru would allow you to have a physical form if he did not foresee you being bonded to the girl in your dream? It is not because of your love for one of the Eldar that you are in the state you're in. It is a rash choice that led you to be attacked."

He looked away. "Still, even when I marry her.. there is the issue of children... I.. I don't know if I can even give Alatáriel such a gift."

Irmo laughed softly. "You can help create children, Olórin. Unlike the Valar, the Maiar have the ability to reproduce if they so choose... it's only natural that taking the form of an elf also allows you that same ability as well... your children would be strong.. much stronger than any elves living on Arda.. But that is up to Eru's will. For now, do not worry about such things. Enjoy your time as an elf... but do not forget your vision... for I have seen darker dreams as of late and I fear the Noldor will not heed the Valar for much longer."

"I have heard rumblings in the city, of the distrust of the Valar," the Maia said softly, looking up at the growing light of Laurelin. "I know the cause and can do nothing to stop it... It is most frustrating.. being so helpless..."

Irmo's brow furrowed, tilting his head back to study the sky. "Yes... I can understand... but is it always darkest before the dawn... we suffer.. but we learn.. and in learning... we overcome that which holds us down... or causes harm..."

Olórin frowned, looking over at his old teacher. "But why must we have so many hurdles before we reach our goal? Why must everything be so difficult?"

"Eru knows..." Irmo replied. "We came into this world to shape it... he gave it life... we must live with our choices... right or wrong... until the ending of the world.."

The Maia closed his eyes, feeling a strange pull.

What is this?  he wondered, trying to comprehend the sensation as if he was growing lighter, nearly floating in the sky.

Feangol... come back to me. He heard in his mind, opening his eyes as the Vala spoke to him.

"It is time to return..." Irmo murmured, reading the Maia's mind. His gaze shifted over his shoulder, a smile upon his face. "Your lady is calling for you.. Go to her, Olórin. Eru bless you and keep you safe..."

The Maia felt like he was flying high above the sky, the land below became a blur as he zoomed through time and space and back into his body and his eyelids fluttered open, the features of a concerned Alatáriel looking down at him. "A... Alatáriel.." he croaked out, reaching up to touch the lady's cheek where a tear fell. He wiped it gently away, voice sad. "You cry for me?"

The she-elf gave a soft laugh of relief at his return to the waking world, wiping at her other tears. "Of course I did. You are my sweet Feangol. How could I not cry over what happened to you?"

She caressed his face, leaning down to kiss him softly on the lips before pulling back to study him. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

"Yes," he answered after a few seconds hesitation, relating all that he over heard, watching with fascination at the waves of different emotion that crossed his beloved's beautiful face.

"So they did all this... just to get a few strands of my hair?"

There was a coldness in her tone that surprised the Maia and he saw her eyes grow dark, her voice deepening, becoming harsh and full of anger. "He shall never have one hair upon my head," she vowed, a power rising in her that shook the Maia and he tried to calm her down.

"Alatáriel..."

But the princess would not heed his soft voice as she spoke, "My uncle thinks he can bully and abuse my family and my beloved. I will not let him. If he tries anything that brings harm to those I care about I will rise up against him myself. Whether the Valar approve or not."

The fury in her voice was palpable and Olórin winced, clutching his forehead.

Alatáriel saw the pained reaction of her beloved and the power in her suddenly faded, replaced with concern. "Feangol? Are you alright?"

He lowered his hand, closing his eyes, relief filling him when he sensed her anger fade. "I will be fine, my lady. I am just tired is all."

She studied him for a moment before asking, "There was something strange that the healer mentioned that I wanted to ask you about."

"What is it you wish to know, Alatáriel?"

"She said that when you were hit on the head, your spirit fled your body. If that is the case, where did you go?"

He chuckled, whispering. "I went to the Garden of Lórien. It is a place of rest and healing. But to go there, you usually must be in spirit, not flesh, to gain its full effects. It is the land of dreams but I am sure you knew of that already."

"What did you do while you were there, Feangol?" she asked, shifting to lay beside her beloved on the bed, her head resting near his, her azure eyes focused on his deeper blue ones as he answered.

"I talked with Irmo, the dream master. He told me many things."

"Like what?"

"Well... like what must occur for justice to be served to your cousins... that I was foolish to go out into the city alone... that you would be heartbroken at my loss." He paused, reaching over to cup her right cheek, tone more tender as he whispered, "And that our children would be stronger than any elves that lived in all of Arda."

She blushed at the mention of children, leaning into his touch, nuzzling his wrist as she whispered. "He said all that?"

He nodded, caressing her cheekbone with his thumb. "He did, my lady."

Her features grew shy as she murmured. "Is it silly of me that I find myself imagining what our children will look like?"

"No, love. I wonder myself what they would be like and believe our children would be tall, strong, and beautiful. Much like their mother."

She smiled tenderly at him, leaning forward to kiss him and the Maia returned it gently before the lady pulled back, resting her head back on the pillow, her arm carefully laying along his chest. Her features grew worried and she whispered. "I was so afraid I lost you when I found you, Feangol... you were... bleeding... and I felt helpless... and alone... I don't think I could bear losing you... and with what they did.. what if they try it again? My father has already promised to bring this before my grandfather. He will petition for an audience. You will have to confront them again."

"You do not have to fear them, Alatáriel. You must have faith. This will end one way or another. But it will end and we can move on with our lives."

She frowned but nodded. "I believe in you, Feangol. But you must promise to not fight them again. I cannot bear the thought of them hurting you further."

"I promise you, my lady. I will not be fighting them on that day," he replied, not elaborating as he closed his eyes. "But for now, let us rest. Tomorrow will take care of itself."

The lady cast a tender gaze upon the relaxed features of her beloved before she closed her eyes as well, whispering. "As you say, sweet Feangol."

And so she rested against him, drawn into a deeper sleep from the stress of the day, falling into the land of dreams and visions of her future with the silver haired elf she loved.

Chapter Text

YT 1432

Finarfin stood before his father, his features and voice stern as he spoke, "Lord Finwë, High King of the Noldor, I come today not as your son but as an aggrieved elf, will you listen to my petition?"

The tall elf looked down at his youngest son in curiosity, his voice strong as he nodded. "I am willing to hear your petition, Finarfin. Pray tell what is it that causes you such distress that you look upon your father with darkened eyes?"

The blond elf kept his posture straight as he answered. "It is not you, my father, that I am cross with. Rather it is the assault upon my daughter's betrothed that I come before you today."

Finwë frowned, leaning forward in his chair. "An assault? This is the first I have heard of it. Tell me what has occurred?"

"Feangol was attacked in the Western border of Tirion. My daughter heard his cry and went to him to try and render aid but he had already fallen. I in turn, heard her cry and found the Telerin bleeding to death in my daughter's arms. If not for Mistress Hópiel's skill in healing, it's possible the boy would have died and remained in the realm of dreams, for the violence upon him was so great that it sent his spirit fleeing from consciousness."

"The healer can confirm this?"

"Yes, my lord. Alatáriel can also give her account of events if you so desire to hear her words."

"I may call on them yet, but now that you have informed me of what has transpired, what is it you wish to petition for?"

Finarfin drew in a deep breath, focusing his will to keep an even tone, not wanting to show any improper display of emotion that would cause his father to rule against him. "It is my desire to have those responsible for Feangol's injuries brought forth and judged for their transgressions."

"A reasonable request," Finwë replied. "But do you know who attacked Feangol?"

"I do... Feangol provided the names of his attackers," Finarfin answered. "Though you will not be pleased with who they are."

"And just who was it that attacked the boy?"

"Curufinwë, Morifinwë, and Turkafinwë."

Finwë studied his son in shock. "My grandchildren did this? Are you certain?"

Finarfin's voice was laced with anger, unable to hold back his emotion, wanting it understood the seriousness of the attack against the Telerin. "Yes. They attacked the betrothed of your granddaughter, leaving him for dead in the street." He paused, steadying himself as he added, "Now, I have done my best to avoid the petty squabbles between my siblings over power and your favor. I do not wish to cause more upheaval but nor can I ignore such grievous behavior that threatens to take my future son-in-law's life."

The High King looked at his son with troubled eyes.

It was true that Finarfin did not engage in court much, his pacifist nature a gift from his mother.

For him to come to me with such fire in his voice means that what occurred must indeed be true. But dare I upset Fëanáro by calling three of his sons into court to answer for such a crime?

It was a hard question for him to answer, the guilt still hung over his head at the scorn and anger his eldest son held against him for remarrying.

But I cannot overlook this, no matter how much it may embarrass F ë an á ro, his sons must come forth and be questioned, only then can I know the full truth.

"Very well. I will summon Curufinwë, Morifinwë, and Turkafinwë to court. You may bring your witnesses and the victim within the hour and we will sort this out."

Finarfin hid his surprise at the answer well, bowing his head slightly. "As you say, father."

He turned, walking out of the great hall, heading towards the Eastern side of Tirion and his home, crossing the crystal bridge surprised to see Feangol and Alatáriel waiting for him and he came to stop, his attention on his daughter as she asked,

"So did grandfather accept your petition, father?"

"He did," Finarfin answered. "He wishes for me to bring you, Feangol, and the healer to court to testify about what occurred," He paused, looking over at the silver haired elf. "Are you well enough to do this, Feangol?"

"I am," Olórin replied, doing his best to walk without his lady's help. "My head still... spins every now and again... but I am sure I will be able to handle whatever questions Lord Finwë requires me to answer."

The blond Noldor reached out to gently clasp the boy's shoulder. "Good. Then come along, I'll have a messenger deliver my request to Hópiel that she come forth if called and we will make our way back to to the High King's court."

The Maia followed Finarfin, his lady walking right beside him.

Alatáriel wrapped her arm Feangol's, her gaze focused on him in concern then relaxed at his soft smile and they slowly made their way to the center of town, where the tower of Ingwë lay and where Finwë resided.

The pair entered the main courtyard, walking past a growing crowd of Noldor that lined both sides of stone that led to the King's throne.

Olórin kept his gaze straight ahead, eyes falling on the three brothers and their father, Fëanáro, who stood to the Finwë's right, the hatred and hostility open and visible as the Maia approached. He took his place to the far left of the High King, Alatáriel beside him and the young elves remained silent as Finwë spoke.

"We are gathered here today to hear of the events that transpired last night in the Western quarter of Tirion," the High King paused, turning his attention to his youngest son. "Finarfin has petitioned for the right to have his daughter's betrothed confront his attackers. He has named Curufinwë, Morifinwë, and Turkafinwë as the aggressors of his assault. What say you three in your defense?" he asked, looking over at his three grandchildren.

"The Telerin is mistaken," Morifinwë replied. "I didn't lay a hand on him."

"Yes... we all know he's just a weakling elf," Curufinwë spoke as his lips twisted in a smirk. "Probably tripped and fell, graceless as he is."

Laughter broke out on the one side of the court, followers of the family of the three elves finding amusement at the Telerin's expense.

Olórin said nothing, biding his time as he listened to Turkafinwë give his answer haughtily,

 "I deny anything to do with this supposed assault. As my brother said, the poor elf probably wounded himself. We all know how Telerin elves are, fragile and prone to injury."

"Liar," Alatáriel hissed, throwing a dark stare in the direction of her cousin. "You attacked Feangol because he caught your brother returning home with black arrows. The same type of arrow embedded in the hind quarter of the bear that attacked us. The same bear your brother spelled in an attempt to separate Feangol from me so that you could have strands of my hair for whatever experiment my uncle is performing and I tell you now if you so much as come within ten feet of me I will make you rue the day you chose to attack my betrothed and me."

There was an iciness in the lady's voice that drew silence among the crowd. The power was weaved in the words and the promise of her threat was felt among all the elves in attendance.

Fëanáro himself backed up a few steps, glaring at his sons, anger on his features at having his secret revealed in so public a place.

"How did you..." Curufinwë started then stopped, wincing as Turkafinwë elbowed him, his voice low and full of arrogance as he said,

"Regardless of your words, cousin, they are just that: words. Empty and harmless. Much like your betrothed."

The fair haired elf made a motion of his head towards the silver haired Telerin. "Or perhaps his is also mute and that is why he has you to speak for him? What with your strength and prowess among the Noldor, it's a miracle you could even a find a male that would accept to be your husband without feeling inadequate. Perhaps that's why you took someone weaker than you as your lover, hmm?"

"Why you arrogant..." Alatáriel growled, blinking as she felt Feangol unwind his arm from hers.

The maia walked past his lady and Finarfin, coming to stand before the fair haired elf, his voice strong and even as he said,

"My voice works just fine, Turkafinwë, and my eyes see far. I saw you last night take the black arrows from your brother. I overheard your conversation about your father's obsession with my betrothed's hair. You told me that you would teach me a lesson for spying on you and you and your brothers attacked me. You yourself hit me in the back and the side of my head with a club and left me to bleed to death in the street. So confess to your crimes and maybe your punishment won't be too severe."

The Noldor elf sneered at the silver haired Telerin. "Or what? You think you can take me in a fight? Don't make me laugh."

"Well, my back isn't turned now, Turkafinwë," he countered. "Are you sure you can take me in a fair fight?"

"Why you..." Turkafinwë growled under his breath. "I should have hit you harder last night."

But Olórin heard the words, calling out once more, "So, do you wish to confess to attacking me last night? Perhaps your brother Curufinwë will also confess to his role in the bear attack? Or will you run and hide from the truth like the worm that you are?"

He was goading the Noldo, knowing he would snap, not happy with what he had to do but willing to sacrifice a broken bone or two to get his point across.

Turkafinwë did not disappoint as he snarled and lunged forward, displaying his quick and hot temper as he shouted,

"How dare you insult me, Telerin! I'll finish you off for good this time!" He raced forward, fist pulled back, ready to strike, not heeding the cries of protest from the High King and his own father to stop as he lunged at the silver haired elf.

Olórin stood his ground, sensing a presence, watching as the Noldor smacked into something solid then bounced, landing unceremoniously on his butt.

"What the..."  Turkafinwë's voice died as he looked up, finding the imposing form of Oromë staring down at him. "Lord... Oromë..."

The Vala of the hunt studied his elvish pupil with angered eyes. "What do you think you're doing, Turkafinwë?"

The fair haired elf rose, voice indignant as he pointed over to the silver haired elf. "That Telerin insulted my honor! I won't stand for it!"

"The same honor that you displayed last night when you attacked him?" The Ainu asked, watching as the emotions danced across the smaller being's features. "Yes, I saw what you and your brothers did. I also witnessed Curufinwë enter my woods those many weeks ago and saw him shoot a bear with a spelled arrow, overpowering it's will, guiding it with a new and darker task. I had hoped he would have learned his lesson from the storm Manwë unleashed but it seems my faith in him has not been repaid." He cast his gaze over to the younger elf, voice and words harsh. "Therefore, you, Curufinwë are hereby forbidden from hunting anywhere in the realm of Valinor until such time I deem you worthy of the privilege once again."

"That is most unfair!" Turkafinwë protested on his brother's behalf.

The Vala turned his hardened gaze back on the fair haired elf. "As are your hunting privileges revoked, Turkafinwë, for the physical assault upon Feangol. Be thankful I don't take Huan back into my keeping as well."

Turkafinwë grew silent, fuming at the humiliation of being reprimanded in front of the High King, Finarfin, his people, his cousin, and the accursed Feangol.

"You two will surrender all your bows and arrows to the High King and you will bring forth the black arrows you used to spell the bear in my wood," the Ainu commanded, looking over at Curufinwë as he added, "Who gave you the spelled arrow, Curufinwë?"

The dark haired elf opened his mouth to speak but no words would come out.

Oromë narrowed his eyes, sensing a binding magic and he murmured. "As I suspected." The Ainu did not press the issue, instead he focused his attention back to Curufinwë who at last found his voice.

"But why do you care about that weakling elf?" he asked, features confused and voice full of disdain. "He's nothing more than a Telerin!"

"Feangol deserves just as much respect as any of the Noldor here," Oromë countered, his tone rebuking. "Your arrogance and hubris have clouded your judgment and reason, Curufinwë. If you had any sense you would know your place and be silent."

"But, he has some kind of magical weapon!" the elf continued. "How did he come by that?! How can a Telerin be more worthy than a Noldor to wield such a powerful gift?!"

"If he does hold such a weapon, it is not for you to concern yourself with," the Ainu replied, nonplussed at the outburst, knowing full well the Noldo was speaking of Haldanar, and he turned his attention over to Finwë then spoke once more.

"High King of the Noldor, I trust in your wisdom and guidance in how else to punish the elves for their transgressions. I would advise you to make sure they understand the consequences of physical assault upon another. The next time such an event occurs, there will be banishment, no matter who is involved."

The Vala of the Hunt turned around to face Feangol, studying him for a moment before he vanished from sight, leaving the elves to themselves and various thoughts sounded out at once. Most were shouts of surprise and calls for restitution for the attack, while others hissed of the Valar favoring the Telerin elves over the Noldor, hinting at revolt and the High King shouted above them all. "Silence!"

The crowd grew quiet, all eyes focused on Finwë who spoke. "There will be no more dissent among the people here! No one is allowed to harm another in my city! If anyone physically assaults another, I will strip them of all they hold and banish them from the safety and security of Tirion's walls! I will not hear of revolt against the Valar! They are our friends and have kept us safe from the darkness that lies to the East!" he decreed then added, "As to the matter of what transgressions my grandsons have committed I will deal with them personally. The rest of you are hereby dismissed and may return to your homes! Good day!"

Finarfin looked over to his daughter and her betrothed, motioning them to follow and they made their way through the crowd, heading back to the Eastern side of the city and the safety of the blond king's estate. No one spoke, not even when they entered the front courtyard and found Oromë standing before them.

"Feangol, may I have a word?" the Ainu called out in a softer tone from before and the Maia nodded, flashing an apologetic look at his lady as he slid his arm away from hers, walking over to the larger being, stopping before him.

"What can I help you with, my lord?"

The Ainu drew in a breath and let it go. "You must take care, Feangol," he began, addressing the silver haired being by his elvish name, knowing how sensitive the hearing was of the two elves nearby. "There is a growing unrest and resentment festering in Fëanáro's kin. The source of which is known but there is little I can do to remedy the condition."

Olórin frowned. "I fear it is too late to reverse the negative influence spread by Melkor. The anger will only become more pronounced after this incident."

"Perhaps," the Vala replied. "I know Curufinwë has a quick temper, as do most of his brothers, but I've never witnessed such blatant disregard for others. That any of them would stoop to such violence speaks of an external and dark influence that only Melkor is capable of."

Finarfin watched the exchange, his ears picking up the conversation, puzzled at the continued mention of Melkor. Rarely did the Valar wander outside of their territories. For Oromë to have come all the way to Tirion to defend Feangol spoke of deeper troubles and he could not hold his silence any longer as he called out, "Forgive me, Lord Oromë, for intruding on your conversation but I could not help but overhear that you believe Melkor is behind all the restlessness among the Noldor."

The Ainu turned, his gaze on the blond king as he addressed him. "His dark influence prays on the pride of the Noldor, feeding it into other dark purposes that result in incidents like what occurred to Feangol last night."

"Can you not arrest Melkor for his deeds?"

The Vala of the Hunt sighed. "Manwë will not listen to my council on the matter. He doesn't believe his brother is still capable of evil and until something reprehensible occurs, he will not act against Melkor."

"Sowing discord among my people isn't reason enough?" Finarfin countered in frustration.

"I continue to watch over the actions here and beyond but Manwë is my king and I cannot override his will. I can only do my best to stem the tide of negative thoughts and actions that lives within the hearts and minds of the Noldor." He paused, features troubled. " Yet, I fear my interference will only cause more resentment between Fëanáro and you Finarfin. I suggest you do your best to avoid anymore confrontations with the great smith and his children."

He turned his gaze back upon Feangol and Alatáriel, noting the silver bands on their fingers and his features and voice softened, "On a happier note, congratulations on your betrothal, Feangol and Alatáriel. May your marriage blossom under the guidance of Eru."

"Thank you, Lord Oromë," the two lovers replied with a bow of their heads.

The Vala smiled. "Now then, I must be off, but do remember what I've said. Goodbye, elves, Eru be with you."

With that he vanished once again, this time for good and the trio sighed, entering the house for a light meal and some much needed rest.

YT 1433

Feangol stood before Alatáriel in the center of the grounds of Finarfin's estate, his hands in hers.

The marriage feast had already begun in earnest and when the light of Laurelin was at its peak, the Maia decided it was time for the vows.

Dressed in his finest Gray tunic and blue cloak, the Telerin felt a sudden nervousness fill him. This was it, the next to last step before he would be wed to his Melda Heri and he cleared his throat feeling the eyes of all the guests upon him watching as Eärwen and Olwë moved to stand before the pair.

As with tradition, the mother of the bride and the father of the groom blessed the marriage, but as Feangol had no family available, the king of the Teleri offered to speak on the silver haired elf's behalf. 

Olwë's blue eyes were bright, his deep voice ringing out clear as he studied Feangol and his granddaughter then spoke, "We are here today for the union of Feangol of the Teleri and Alatáriel of the Noldor. May Manwë witness the love these two share for one another. And may Eru bless these two young elves with all the health and happiness that the joy of binding alone brings."

He presented a clear stone to his granddaughter, gently placing it in her hand before moving to stand next to the princess of the Teleri, deferring to Eärwen as she spoke next.

"In Varda's name I call witness to the union of Alatáriel of the Noldor to Feangol of the Teleri, whom is loved by my daughter and who is in returned loved by my son-in-law. May Eru bless them both and may they always be happy in their shared love and understanding." She held out a red stone, placing it in Feangol's hand before backing away allowing the two elves to say their own vows.

Olórin cleared his throat, his voice full of emotion as he spoke in tender tones, "I hereby commit my heart and soul to you, beloved Alatáriel, for I love you and cannot part from you. As your husband, wherever you go, so too, will I follow, even until the ending of the world."

He removed his silver ring, placing it in his lady's palm that held the clear stone, eyes on hers as the she-elf began to speak.

"Beloved Feangol, I pledge my heart and soul to you, for I love you more than the stars of night and cannot bear to be without you. My place is at your side and your heart is my home that I treasure above all other things. As your wife I stand beside you, never to be parted, even until the ending of the world," she sang, removing her silver ring, placing it beside the red stone in Feangol's hand.

"Let the marriage rings be brought forth!" Finarfin called out, smiling as his wife moved to stand beside him and Olwë took his place behind Feangol.

A blue pillow was carried up by Sildion the gray eyed smith that worked for Finarfin's family, presenting his handiwork as he stopped to the side of the elven pair.

Feangol reached out, taking the smaller gold band with his left hand then slid it on the lady's right index finger, eyes bright with warmth and love as Alatáriel reached out, taking the larger band in her left hand, sliding it on his right index finger and the pair leaned in, kissing each other tenderly.

The crowd erupted, causing the Maia and the lady to both blush but they laughed softly, pulling apart a bit as a lively tune began to play. They headed to the table, carefully laying down the gifts presented to them and their betrothal rings before heading to the open area, dancing with a grace that only elves were capable of, lost in each other's eyes as the music slowed, foreheads resting against each other as the silver haired elf spoke.

"You look beautiful tonight, Alatáriel. So beautiful I fear my heart will burst."

Her eyes twinkled at his words, feeling his excitement and nervousness about what was to come, sharing that emotion as she reached up to caress his face. "Sweet Feangol. You are as beautiful as the stars to me and just as bright. My heart yearns for your love and my body for your touch."

He blushed deeply at her words, blinking at her soft laugh and he murmured. "You make me feel alive, my lady. I feel your love for me here.." He paused, pointing to his heart. "It hurts but I do not mind this pain. For it tells me that what I feel for you is true."

The Noldor Princess rested her hand over his heart, voice low but tender. "I love your heart most of all, Feangol. For it loves me without condition."

He smiled then, lifting his hand to lay over hers. "I have always loved you, Melda Heri. I will always love you. No matter what happens, my love will never fade. Not even in death."

Her brow furrowed and she lifted her fingertips to rest over his lips. "Please do not speak of death, Feangol. I worry over you more than perhaps you know. I want this night to be free of worry and concern. I want it to be full of our love of one another and nothing more."

He gave her an apologetic look, kissing her fingertips as he murmured. "As you say, my lady."

They danced well into the evening, feasting between music sets until the hour grew late and the final part of the ceremony was set to take place. Olórin took hold of Alatáriel's hand as they led the crowd out and over the crystal bridge, turning right and down the nearest street, walking some distance until they stopped before a large estate overlooking the Itila.

The dwelling was a wedding gift from Finarfin, and the Maia swept his lady off her feet, cradling her as they crossed the bridge and entered the house, the loud cheers and well wishes muffled as he closed the door and carried her up the crystal staircase.

Turning left, Olórin walked down the hall and through an open doorway that led to the master bedroom.

It was massive in scope, decorated with murals in a rainbow of gemstones depicting scenes of the ocean and of the city itself, a blending of Noldor and Telerin influences and he lowered her down to her feet, his gaze shifting around to the crystal dresser and vanity. 

He smiled at the craftsmanship, his eyes falling upon the desk and the bookshelves, briefly studying the open balcony before he felt the touch of Alatáriel upon his face and he turned to look down at her, voice soft "We are home, my lady."

"Yes. Our home, Feangol," she replied, biting her lip as she shifted her hand to take hold of his.

Alatáriel pulled him gently to her. Sliding her hands up his chest, her orbs darkened, desire swimming in the pools of her azure eyes.

The Maia saw and sensed her need of him, his own passion for her growing and he leaned in, kissing her softly at first, groaning when she returned it then slid his hand up to twine his fingers into her hair.

Deepening the kiss, his body reacted to the feel of her supple form against his solid one and he felt her hand shift to tug at the belt of his tunic.

Olórin pulled back, panting a bit as they broke off the kiss, eyes on hers as he undid his belt then removed it, tugging the tunic off his body. His torso was now bare to Alatáriel and his eyelids fluttered as the lady traced patterns on his skin.

"Beautiful Feangol..." Alatáriel whispered, her voice husky and full of desire.

He took hold of her hand, lifting it to his lips. He kissed her fingertips, watching as she shivered in delight.

Alatáriel's eyes trailing downward, blushing at the sight of his covered arousal but unafraid as she took hold of his hands and pulled him towards the bed.

Olórin was unsure at first what to do, but the feel of Alatáriel as she pressed against him wiped away the last bit of reserve he had and he pulled her tight to him then kissed down her neck, walking her over to the bed, blinking when she gently pressed against his bare chest.

He stopped, watching with awe and desire as Alatáriel removed her dress and undergarments, naked before him and he removed his breeches and boots, allowing her to see him fully. 

The princess blushed but kept her gaze on him, holding out her hand for him to take and she pulled him to her then fell onto the bed, shifting to lay down with her husband above her.

Touches and kisses became moans and sighs as their bodies became one, their passion building until they could hold back no more, crying out their release as their bodies shook and they clung to each other.

Heated words of praise and love flowed from their lips as they began anew, their love consummated before the eyes of the Valar and Eru, until at last they were spent, and Olórin collapsed beside Alatáriel.

He shifted to lay on his back, smiling as his lady snuggled against his side.

Crooking an arm over his chest, Alatáriel nuzzled her husband's neck and panted out, "Feangol.. that was... wonderful... and well worth the wait..."

He blushed at her praise, his voice a bit shy as he panted in return, "Sweet, Alatáriel... you were wonderful... you made me feel... loved and wanted... and desired... I... I didn't hurt you did I?"

The lady laughed softly. "Of course not, Feangol. You made me feel good... desired and loved. I didn't know it could feel so intense... I could hear you in my mind and it... made the... release... all the more pleasurable... I found myself... unwilling to stop... is that wrong of me?"

His brow furrowed and he caressed her back, looking over to her. "No, I do not think so. We are married now. Physical love is part of an expression of our feelings for each other. There is no shame in that."

She lifted her head, looking down at him, her features full of open adoration. "You say it well, husband."

He matched her look, reaching up to trace his finger along her cheekbone. "I love you, Alatáriel. My lover, my friend, my wife."

She blushed, turning her head to kiss his wrist, voice husky once more. "When you look at me like that.. and say those things... you make me want you again, Feangol."

He flashed a crooked grin, voice teasing a bit. "This is a bad thing, Alatáriel?"

She laughed at his teasing and his grin, sighing as she lay her head back down. "Not at all, Feangol. But I am a bit tired. Perhaps we should rest before we explore each other once again."

His features softened and he held her close. "Perhaps you are right, my lady." His voice became melodic as he sung out softly, "Rest and dream with me, Alatáriel."

"As you wish, Feangol," she murmured then closed her eyes, content to follow him into the land of dreams, even as Laurelin's golden light swept over the land, unaware of the dark thoughts and plots that festered within the mind of Melkor, who would soon enact his revenge, throwing all of Valinor into darkness.

Chapter Text

YT 1450

Finarfin stood in the crowded Great Square of Tirion, features full of curiosity.

The blond elf, along with all the other Noldor, had received a summons by Finwë to witness Fëanáro's master creation, for there had been rumors of some project his brother had toiled in the darkest of nights and the brightest of days.

His brother's actions had been secretive and obsessive and Finarfin could not help but wonder if it had something to do with his daughter, though Alatáriel had warned Fëanáro and his kin to desist in their attempts to secure a few strands of her hair.

His brother had been persistent in trying to acquire the unique gold and silver tresses upon the lady's head.

His attempts were in vain.

Alatáriel would not part with one strand, for she saw a darkness in her uncle that she loathed. She would not suffer to hear him speak or come near her, for she was quick to remember and slow to forgive and the assault upon Feangol was never far from her mind.

In spite of his failure to collect his daughter's hair, Finarfin suspected his brother had succeeded in his project anyway.

The great smith's skill, despite his quick and fiery temper, was beyond any other elf in Valinor. That he had forged something masterful was not surprising.

I only wonder what it is he's created that requires everyone to be present?

"Grandfather!"

Finarfin turned at the sound of a boy's voice, a smile lighting his handsome face as a blond haired young elf raced towards him, his sapphire eyes bright with joy.

The boy nearly barreled into the larger elf then wrapped his small arms around the Noldor King's waist, hugging Finarfin with surprising strength for one so young.

"Sanaro!" Finarfin replied, hugging the boy in return as he looked down to study his grandson. "You've grown taller since I last saw you."

"You saw me last week, grandfather!" Sanaro replied, chuckling at Finarfin's silly statement.

The adult elf let out a small chuckle of his own, ruffling the boy's long blond hair. "So I did. Now where are your parents?"

"Right here, father," Alatáriel said softly, her lithe form graceful in it's movements as she strolled forward, coming to stand beside Finarfin, her husband Feangol close behind.

Sanaro loosened his hold, going over to his mother who looked down at him, voice soft but firm,

"Sanaro, you must not run off like that. You could have gotten hurt."

The boy's brow furrowed, features confused. "But I'm always careful, mother. Father taught me how to move when running to avoid any danger."

Alatáriel quirked an eyebrow, turning her gaze over to Feangol who gave her a placating look. "He has so much energy I thought learning how to run would help calm him down."

The lady's features relaxed a bit as she returned her attention to her only child. "Well, you must remember to slow down when in a crowd so as to not run into anyone and injure them, or yourself."

"Yes, mother," the boy replied, moving to stand between his parents.

Alatáriel looked over to her father, addressing him in a more serious voice. "So my uncle has finished his project and now seeks to prove to the world his mastery of craft by proclaiming it before the whole city. His pride knows no bounds it seems."

There was a contemptuous tone in her words that made the blond Noldor King study his daughter with troubled eyes.

It seems the feud between them will never cease. 

"Regardless of his pride, his creation, whatever it may be, must be very special to call all the Noldor to gather in the Great Square," he answered, his eyes shifting to hover near Galathilion as a trumpet sounded, drawing everyone's attention.

The crowd parted, revealing the regal form of Finwë as he led a small procession forward, voice loud and clear as he shouted, "Today we are gathered here to witness the pinnacle of Noldor craftsmanship!" He paused, standing aside to allow Fëanáro to step before everyone.

The dark haired master smith held within his hands a covered box and with a careful motion he reached out and pulled off the purple fabric, revealing a glass case. Yet it was not the box itself that drew a collective gasp from the crowd.

For within the glass box, three spheres of light burned brightly, full of life as they flickered in a constant burst. The power was palpable, filling the crowd with awe at the beauty and splendor before them and they stood transfixed as Fëanáro spoke.

"I have harnessed the very light of the Two Trees, filling them within the silma casing of my own design, hence I name them Silmarilli and they shall prove the glory of my house. None shall be able to replicate its beauty, for I have poured all my heart and soul into crafting these jewels. The Valar themselves must take notice of the Noldor's place above all others in Valinor!"

Olórin's features grew tight.

To invoke the attention of the Valar in the name of the smith's foolish pride spoke of an arrogance unrivaled by any other elf.

That the Maia had heard the voice of Varda hallowing the Silmarilli came to no surprise. For despite Olórin's feelings towards Fëanáro, what the Noldor craftsman had accomplished was indeed miraculous and awe inspiring.

Aulë himself most likely could not even duplicate the wonder of the jewels held in the smith's hands.

That was the problem. This rare set of jewels would be sought after by many. The Maia could already sense the desire and the jealousy among a great many elves.

No good will come from this, he thought, blinking as he felt a tug on his hand and he looked down as Sanaro asked,

"Who is that, father?"

Olórin followed the boy's motion as he pointed to his left and at first he thought his son was singling out Fëanáro. "That is your great uncle, Fëanáro."

"I know who his is, father. I mean the tall, dark presence behind him."

The Maia frowned, moving a bit, his blue eyes widening at the sight as he murmured, "Melkor..."

The Vala had heard the summons as well, dark eyes and dark air surrounding him as he stood unseen by the elves. His gaze was fixated on the jewels, a fire sparking in his heart, for he desired to possess the beautiful Silmarilli. I must have those jewels! his mind repeated like a mantra, already plotting new methods to sow discord between the Noldor, a crafty smile upon his lips.

Olórin's gaze shifted around the crowd. No one can see him. No one but Lóron and I.

"Mel..kor? Who is that, father?"

"One of the Valar. Someone we do not want to cast his gaze upon us. For it will mean trouble."

The boy tilted his head. "Is that why he feels so foul? Because he wants to cause trouble?"

Olórin studied Lóron in surprise.

His son's power had grown quickly for such a young age and the Maia dreaded the time when he could no longer hide what he was. "Yes, Lóron, he is foul and we are to avoid that Vala at all costs," the silver haired elf answered, moving closer to his wife, pulling his son with him, trying to hide from the possibility of the Ainu's gaze falling upon the pair.

It would not do to be found out by the dark Vala, for that was how Olórin viewed the mightiest of the Ainur, and he shifted his attention over to Alatáriel, about to say something when he noticed the look of awe and trepidation upon her beautiful face at the sight of the three jewels.

Alatáriel? he called out to her in his mind, his features and tone full of concern.

The lady, for her part, studied the glowing jewels, sensing the power of the two trees within the prison of elf-forged crystal stones and she frowned.

So that's what you wanted my hair for.

Alatáriel heard her beloved's voice in her mind and she turned her head, looking over at him. "I'm fine Feangol," she answered verbally. "Just surprised. I can't believe my uncle managed to capture the light of Telperion and Laurelin. He may be an arrogant elf but one cannot deny his skill and gift of crafting."

Olórin listened to her words, finding it similar to his own thoughts and the Maia nodded. "True. But there will be trouble over these jewels. Already there are those seeking to possess the Silmarilli."

He cast a sidelong glance towards Fëanáro, worry and relief filling him when he could no longer see or sense Melkor. Olórin felt Lóron tug at his hand again and he looked down. "What is it, son?"

"The stones are singing, Father, can you hear them?"

The Maia smiled, crouching down to talk to his son in a very soft voice. "Yes, Lóron. I hear their voices but do you understand what they are singing?"

The boy tilted his head, concentrating. "Power... joy.. but... there is sadness as well." He paused, features puzzled. "Why is the light sad?"

"Because it is imprisoned in stones made by elvish hands," Olórin answered then added, features and voice serious. "Do not tell anyone of this ability, Lóron. They cannot hear as we do so they will not understand."

"Why not, father?" Lóron asked. "Why is it wrong to be able to hear the voices of the light?"

The Maia struggled with how to explain without revealing the truth of what he was. "Because you are special, Lóron. Because there will be those in the city who will hate you for having what they do not."

The young elf frowned. "But are we not elves?"

"We are. But we are also a bit different."

"How?"

Olórin sighed inwardly, sending a prayer to Nienna for teaching him patience. "Because we can sense and hear things that others cannot, we can understand more of the way of the world then other elves. This is a special gift granted to us by Eru. You must remain aware of it but you must not boast of it, where pride goes, so to will we fall. I do not want you hurt or ostracized for your gift. Do you understand, my son?"

"I think so," the boy answered, looking over at his mother who had moved some distance away, talking in soft tones with Finarfin. "Does mother have the same ability?"

The Maia looked over at his wife, his features growing more tender. "Her power is of the mind, Lóron. She carries within her the brightest light of the Eldar. Her gifts are ones of insight and strength. Your mother is more powerful than most elves in Arda. It is from her you are gifted with greater perception than most." He paused, looking back towards his son, resolve in his features as he added, "When you are older, I will explain and teach you other skills that you alone will be able to master. But for now, we should return home. Your lessons with Mórowen in mastering Quenya have yet to be completed.

Lóron found the prospect of writing several pages of sentences and reciting them boring. He wanted to continue listening to the light sing and to hear the other voices that surrounded him. "Do I have to?"

"I'm afraid you must," the Maia answered, rising to his full height once more. "But once you've mastered the last lessons, you will be able to chose your own name."

"But I already have a name I've chosen."

"Oh?" Olórin said, quirking an eyebrow as he asked, "What have you chosen, Lóron?"

"I want to be called Elendur!" he said, beaming up proudly at his father.

Olórin smiled. "And what does Elendur mean, Lóron?"

"It means servant of stars," he replied, still grinning ear to ear. "I chose it because I love the stars so much I watch them for hours, listening to their gentle voices sing in the night air when I should be in bed," His smile fell, eyes widening as he covered his mouth partly, murmuring. "Ooh... shouldn't have said that..."

But the Maia chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his son's hair. "It is alright, Lóron. We shall have to announce your Esseclime soon if that is your final decision for your chosen name," He took the boy's hand gently into his own. "Shall we tell your mother of this news?"

"Okay!" Lóron exclaimed, flashing a happy smile at his father. "Maybe grandfather, too?"

"Of course." Olórin replied, leading his son over to where Alatáriel stood with Finarfin.

The lady sensed the pair approach and turned to them, her eyes alight as she listened to her son tell him of his chosen name, Finarfin approving as he hugged his grandson.

The four of them departed from the square, weaving through the excited crowd, heading towards their perspective homes.

Silver light faded, giving way to darkness, the stars alone lighting the sky. All of Tirion lay quiet, content to sleep yet Olórin remained awake in bed, his wife snuggled against him, her head upon his shoulder. The Maia felt Alatáriel shift and he looked over to her, watching as his lady raised her head, crooking her arm to rest her chin in her palm, her voice soft as she asked,

"What troubles you, Feangol?"

The Maia turned his gaze upon the ceiling, voicing the worry in his heart. "The Silmarilli," he replied in the dark. "It doesn't seem right, trapping the light as Fëanáro did. The power harnessed will cause envy, jealousy, and greed. There was a dark fire in your uncle's eyes as he held up those jewels and I know you saw it as well."

The lady studied her husband fondly.

As her powers had grown, Alatáriel could see more and more of Feangol's soul, spellbound by the blinding light that radiated from within. She could sense his greatness and his beauty, finding it well beyond that of all the Eldar she knew.

Pride filled her in the knowledge that he was unique, that he loved and chose her as his.

And he is mine.

Her love remained strong, fierce in its loyalty and protectiveness. For despite all the power that Feangol possessed, he remained a gentle and caring elf. Those things were precious to her. He was precious to her. She could not bear to see him in pain or troubled and Alatáriel reached out with her left hand, tracing the contours of his jawline, her eyes alight with desire, voice becoming husky as she spoke. "Do not concern yourself with my uncle's behavior or mood. It has little to do with us."

He shifted his gaze at her touch, spying the need and desire in his wife's eyes, his body responding.

The fire of passion they had for one another remained bright and heated, rekindled every night since their marriage.

It's a surprise we only have one child from our nightly unions. "You think I worry too much?"

"It's part of who you are," his lady replied. "So I accept you as you are. But still, you worry just the same."

He laughed softly, taking her left hand in his, gently bringing it to his lips, kissing her fingertips, his voice lowered, thick with want as he eyed her heatedly, "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps... there are other things to occupy my mind..."

Alatáriel's eyelids fluttered at the kisses to her fingertips, her body aching for his touch, shivering in delight as he rolled, resting on top of her, their kisses tender at first, growing more demanding as the explored one another, never growing tired of their intimate dance as they became one, lost in their need and love for each other, their spiritual connection amplifying the sensations, their release long and intense as they cried out their joy and pleasure, holding each other as they slowed and grew still, falling asleep as the light of Laurelin wrested control from the dark once more.

_________________________________________________

YT 1476

A black mist surrounded him, blinding his sight and senses. Where he was at first, Olórin knew not but the mist was evil and had to be defeated. He heard Haldanar crying to be released and so the Maia gripped the hilt, drawing the holy sword out, shouting in elvish.

He slammed the blade straight down with the full power of his might, the wave of light so intense it swept through the mist, obliterating it, revealing a giant in black armor and a creature that walked upon eight legs, the giant pierced the two trees, their cries dropping the Maia to his knees as the creature stuck its fangs into the trunks, sucking out the light until darkness took hold upon the realm and he screamed,

"Noooo!" Olórin cried out, bolting upright.

His breathing was labored, eyes darting about as his vision cleared. Recognition filling him as his gaze focused on the jeweled murals, the soft sounds of his wife's breathing steadying his nerves.

I'm in my room.

He reached over, gently brushing at the strands of his Melda Heri's hair, finding her beauty captivating even as he still felt a bit of fear at his dream.

The Maia frowned, pulling back, reaching up to wipe at the sweat upon his brow then tossed the blankets to the side, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed, rising and walked over to the blue robe laying over a nearby chair. He slipped it on, making his way out to the open balcony, the night air cooling his heated skin.

He reached out, resting his palms against the railing and leaned forward. He lifted his gaze to study the sky, features troubled at his latest nightmare. The vision that had brought him here, had sought to make him an elf had changed, becoming more violent and confusing.

What is this black mist? Who is the armored giant in black? Where did that hideous creature come from? These questions now plagued him and he wondered if they were really visions or just simple nightmares.

But if it was just a nightmare, why did it seem so real?

Despite his doubts of the validity of these new visions or nightmares, one thing was certain. The Two Trees were in danger. They would need to be guarded and protected from whatever planned to attack it.

But how do I prove the danger is real?

He sensed another presence and he looked down, his eyes falling upon the form of Elendur sitting beneath a willow in the back courtyard and his brow furrowed, wondering if the boy was also suffering from nightmares.

Turning, the Maia walked into his room, changing into a gray shirt, tunic, breeches, and boots and headed down the crystal stairway and out into the back courtyard, heading with a grace only elves possessed, coming to stand to the boy's left.

"The stars are beautiful tonight, are they not Elendur?" he called out softly, coming to sit beside his son.

The blond elf nodded, voice reverent as he looked into the sky. "The stars call to me, yet I still do not know why. Do you know the reason, father?" he asked, looking over to the silver haired elf.

Olórin studied Elendur for a moment.

His son was 17 in elf years, nearly a full adult, and the Maia saw much of his true form in the boy's features.

Soon I will have to tell him of the truth of what power runs in his veins. But how would the boy take it? Would he be understanding or angry? How do I handle this? He wondered as he answered his son's question. "Your love of the stars comes from your mother," he began. "All elves are drawn to it's silver light because Varda created the stars for the elves to guide them and to give them light in a world of darkness."

"Do you not also love the stars?" Elendur asked, studying his father with curious eyes.

For some time now, the blond elf had sensed a growing power within his own soul, his ability to see others light revealing the nature of who they were.

His father was similar yet... different than the elves. Stronger, more powerful, more bright than even his mother's soul.

Instinctively, Elendur knew this was what his father had meant all those years ago about being unique. But what did it all mean?

"I do love them," Olórin answered truthfully. "But I also love the light of the Two Trees. I have always been drawn to their brightness and warmth."

Elendur tilted his head at his father's answer.

The older elf was always the one with all the answers and he had asked his mother on more than one occasion about his father and she would always smile and tell him that his father, even at a young age, seemed well versed in how the world worked, well beyond what he should be able to understand, and this made the blond elf even more curious. "Mother said you would often sing of the stars and of the sea to her when you were children. Do you still sing, father?"

The Maia blinked at the change of subject but nodded, smiling. "Oh yes," he answered with a soft chuckle. "I still sing to your mother. She has always loved my songs and my voice. The Teleri are gifted in the ways of song and of music."

Elendur, of course, knew that his father was a Telerin, but he had heard little of their culture besides fishing, sailing, and singing and a sudden thought occurred to him. "Is that why some of the Noldor believe the Teleri to be weak?" he asked. "Because they are content to sing and to swim, not using their gifts to improve themselves like the Noldor do?"

A frown marred Olórin's handsome features. "Who told you the Teleri are weak?"

Elendur blinked, surprised at the gruff tone in his father's voice. It was unusual for him to show any darker emotion and the boy lowered his gaze. "They do not say it to my face, but I have heard it in their minds that they think the Teleri are weak. They think that you are not as strong as a Noldor."

Understanding crossed the Maia's features. So my son is upset at how the Noldor view me.

Normally, Olórin cared little what others thought of him. But I will not have my son believing that he is unworthy simply because of what many believe me to be. "What do you think is the truth, Elendur?" he asked, watching as his son thought out the right answer.

"I know they are wrong. I see the truth of your power. Your soul glows brighter than any elf in the city. If you wanted to, you could defeat or overpower every Noldor here."

Olórin was not surprised by his son's response, for the power that flowed in the boy's veins was the same as the Maia's and so he decided to test Elendur, asking, "Yet I do not assert my power. Do you know why that is?"

Elendur studied his father, brow furrowed as he tried to reason out what the silver haired elf was asking. "Because it is not in your nature?"

"That is part of it, yes," Olórin admitted. "But there is another reason I do not abuse the power I have. Do you know that reason?"

Understanding lit up the younger elf's face. "Because even if you wanted to, you cannot access that power fully."

"Very good," Olórin said, favoring his son with a smile, impressed at his logical conclusion.

"Even so, you still have more power than any elf in existence," Elendur said softly, feeling he was close to the one answer that had eluded him.

The Maia did not respond for a few moments, wondering what to say surprised by himself as he spoke suddenly. "As do you, my son. The same light you see reflected in my soul is visible in yours but others cannot see it clearly or completely."

Elendur was confused. "Why is that? We are elves, are we not?"

Olórin knew this day would come and he knew his son had a right to the truth. "Yes. But you are more than just a simple elf, Elendur. Do you remember your lessons on the Valar?"

"Yes," Elendur said with a nod. "They are powerful beings that carry out Eru's will. They created the land of Arda with the power of song. They often mingle unseen among the Eldar."

"Elves cannot see the Valar when they wish to be unseen. But other Valar and.. Maiar can."

"Maiar... are servants or pupils of the Valar..." Elendur murmured, eyes widening as he realized what his father was trying to tell him. "That means you are..." His voice trailed off as Olórin finished for him.

"A Maia... Yes. You have the same power as I do, Elendur. That is why you can see what cannot be seen with elvish eyes. Why Melkor was visible all those years ago. Why you can sense the truth of what he is. It is why you can hear the wind cry and the stars sing. Why all manner of beasts can talk to you and you can talk to them. Why you, if you focused your power, could make water rise and fall, make wind roar or go still.. make fire appear from the dark... and call forth storms or silence their power if you so desired."

"But I thought.. that none of the higher beings could have children..."

"The Valar cannot but the Maiar can," Olórin answered. "The One made it this way because we can become incarnate, in doing so, we become physically capable of producing children."

It was a lot to take in but it made sense to Elendur, given his abilities and his strength. He looked at his father in sudden concern. "Does mother know of this?"

Regret filled Olórin's features as he shook his head. "I've never told her."

"But... why? You two love each other do you not?"

"Of course I love your mother and she loves me. We cannot bear to be apart from the other."

"Then why are you afraid to tell her? Does she not deserve to know the truth?"

The Maia rubbed his brow. "It's.. a complex thing to explain. I have chosen an elvish life. In doing so, my power is diminished. I knew what would happen to me and my abilities yet I still chose to become incarnate because I loved your mother before I even knew her and because there is something I must try to prevent."

"Prevent?" Elendur murmured, looking at his father in confusion.

Olórin looked up at the sky, voice and features grim. "I was plagued by a vision long ago and because of this vision I prayed for and was granted a elvish body and an elvish life. Your mother was in that vision, the only light in the darkness that pressed down around me. In this vision we were attacked by a massive creature and the light died in the two trees. This vision had continued to plague me from time to time. Only now it's changing, becoming more violent and more persistent. I believe it is a warning of what is to come."

"If this is true, you must warn the people here," Elendur said, sensing the truth in his father's words as he rose to his feet. "We should tell great-grandfather and grandfather of these visions."

Olórin shook his head. "They will not listen. Finwë is too preoccupied trying to keep Fëanáro in check while the city festers with discontent. Finarfin will listen but there is little he can do."

"But... what about the Valar? Why don't they help?"

"There are those who understand that Melkor, the dark Vala as we both call him, is up to something but Manwë will not listen. Melkor has not engaged in anything that would prove he alone is responsible for the dark thoughts and feelings."

"But, can they not see what is going on in our city? Do they not care? Mother forbids me from even going to the Western side of Tirion unless it's with a full escort. Many of the elves carry shields with odd symbols forged upon the metal faces. Even Grandfather had fashioned such metal and his supporters carry them about. I feel a great unease, father. If what you say is true, then why not try to change it?"

The fire of youth shone in Elendur's eyes, his words full of emotion that Olórin had long since tried to keep suppressed. "I have spoken of this before with the Valar, themselves, Elendur. I cannot sway Manwë, for Melkor is his brother and until he does something to warrant arrest, the dark Vala is allowed to roam freely."

"But you know the truth, father. If you know this darkness is coming, you must stop it. You must save the elves before they do something stupid."

Olórin studied his son with saddened eyes. "If I try to interfere, they will label me a traitor or spy for the Valar. It will draw Melkor's attention onto us. He will know what we are, Elendur. Your mother and her family will be in danger. I cannot allow her to be harmed, nor you." He paused, voice soft. "But I can travel to Valmar. I can speak with Arien who tends Laurelin and Tilion who spends much of his time near Telperion to see if they are willing to guard the trees. Perhaps I can convince Ingwë to post guards in their stead if they will not consent to watch over the trees."

"And what of Melkor?"

The Maia frowned, shaking his head. "I cannot take him on directly, Elendur. Even as a Maia, I would be no match for his strength. It would take the Valar themselves to capture and subdue him. So do not even think of confronting him should you see him again. For your death would break my heart and your mother would not forgive me."

Elendur growled in frustration. "I do not like this. I do not like this feeling of helplessness."

"So do all who know the truth of things but can do little but carry the burdens upon their own shoulders."

The blond elf murmured. "I understand your reasoning, father, I just don't agree with it." He turned his gaze up at the sky. "You should tell mother soon, of the truth. That is, if she doesn't know already."

Olórin allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. "I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't at least suspect the truth of where my power comes from. But yes... soon, I shall tell her." He rose, stretching as he spoke. "Now then, you should head to bed for some rest. You will need it where we are going."

"And where is that, father?"

The Maia's features grew determined as he replied, "To Valmar, home of the Vanyar, Maiar, and a few Valar as well."

Chapter Text

YT 1476-Tirion

Olórin stood waiting at the foot of the stairs, sapphire eyes focused upward, smiling at the sight of Alatáriel as she descended and stopped before him and Elendur.

"So you have decided to head to Valmar to speak about the threat to the Two Trees?"

"Yes," the Maia answered. "I know we were supposed to head to Alqualondë so that Elendur could learn of the ways of my kin but this is a more pressing matter that will not leave my mind. I must do what I can to convince anyone that will listen to me in regards to the danger present to the Two Trees. They must be protected. It will also give Elendur a chance to learn a bit about those of whom he shares the same blood."

Alatáriel studied her husband, nodding, features a bit troubled. "Your vision plagues you nightly, husband, and I know you've had little rest. I understand why you must go and I will wait for your return, I only hope it is soon, for I am anxious to leave for my grandfather's city."

"Upon our return, we will head for Alqualondë and away from the unease in Tirion," Olórin promised.

The lady smiled. "I look forward to that trip, Feangol." She moved forward to kiss him, pulling back, eyes and features tender as she reached out to caress his cheek. "Take care, my love, and watch over Elendur. I await for your return within the coming months."

"I will, Alatáriel," he whispered, leaning into her touch, reluctant to leave her though he gathered his resolve turning his head to watch as his Melda Heri lowered her hand and moved over to stand in front of Elendur, their gazes level, as they were of the same height, her voice soft as she spoke,

"My son, you've grown tall and beautiful, much like your father and I when we were your age. I am proud of you and of your mind."

She paused, leaning forward to kiss his cheek before pulling back. "Listen well to your father, Elendur. He will teach you the ways of the wilds and when you rest in the trees, make sure to wrap your cloak around you. It will help to keep you warm should a strong wind sweep through."

"Yes, mother," he replied, smiling as the lady raised her hand.

"Nemarië."

"Nemarië," Elendur and Olórin returned the gesture and words, turning to walk out into the front courtyard, heading through the Northern border gate, avoiding the Western side entirely, passing several elves who bore symbols signaling Aracáno's house, nodding in acknowledgment before walking down the crystal stairs that led out into a heavily forested patch of land.

A well worn path led between columns of evergreens and the two males kept a steady pace, the city of Tirion growing smaller and smaller until all that could be seen were the trees around them.

"How long will it take to reach Valmar, father?" Elendur asked as he walked beside the silver haired elf.

"Several weeks but we will see much on our way there that you will learn of, Elendur, so be mindful of your surroundings."

The younger elf nodded, casting his gaze all around, murmuring. "I've never traveled so far outside of the city. It is rather... quiet... but beautiful..." He paused, the sight of so many trees drawing him back to a question that he was curious to have answered and he turned his head to study his father. "What did mother mean by resting in the trees?"

Olórin smiled. "When darkness falls, we will camp up high in a tree so as to keep safe from any predators that might be lurking about."

"Predators?"

"Great beasts with much power," the Maia replied. "Bears, wolves, and mountain lions to name a few."

Elendur looked away from his father, studying the woods with a bit of apprehension. "I wasn't aware of such creatures existing so close to the city. Will they attack us?"

"They most likely will remain hidden and uninterested in our presence, Elendur," the Maia explained. "Even so, I prefer to remain above ground so as to not provide such creatures the chance to gnaw upon us."

"But we carries bows and you have that weapon strapped on your belt, so we would be able to fend off beasts should they try to attack us, right?"

Olórin blinked then frowned at the mention of Haldanar.

Of course he would see it. His eyes are like mine, and what is hidden to elvish eyes is visible to his sight. "You are correct but this sword of mine is not to be used unless under the most dire circumstances."

"Why is that? What is so special about it, father?"

The Maia debated whether or not to tell his son the truth before answering, "When I was your age, I traveled from Alqualondë to Tirion so that I could be with your mother. During that journey I was shadowed by a creature who tried to kill me but I killed it instead," he began, sensing the curiosity of Elendur and he smiled despite what occurred long ago.

"The Vala Oromë was tracking the fell beast and presented me with a gift from the Vala Irmo, one of my many teachers." Olórin stopped, turning to face his son. Grabbing the hilt of the blade, the Maia slowly pulling it out, bright light erupting in the entirety of the space around him, any shadow engulfed and overcome by it's flash.

Elendur gasped, marveling at the weapon before him.

"This is Haldanar. Forged by the Vala Aulë himself. It is a holy light, capable of slicing through any darkness, though the blade itself is also a very deadly weapon." The Maia sheathed Haldanar back into its scabbard, the light silenced instantly, the air around them returning to normal. "That is why I do not wish to use it if I can help it. The bow should be enough to keep us safe."

Elendur blinked, adjusting to the natural light after being blinded by the white fire that had burst around them and Olórin chuckled at the facial expression on his son's face. "It is shocking at first to witness, Elendur, but your vision will clear after a few moments."

Once the blond elf regained his sight, the two continued, traveling on until the stars alone lit the sky and they settled high within a massive pine tree.

They continued once the golden light of Laurelin took hold and turning west, heading for Valmar.

The Maia pointed out the various flora and fauna, explaining their purpose, teaching his son how to listen to the wind and to the tree, sensing the pulse of life and how to answer the call of birds, moths, fish, deer, rabbits, squirrels and even foxes.

Elendur took in all the new information, able to recognize languages already and delight and joy filled him at the warmth of the life that surrounded him. His protective nature amplified the experience and he found himself wanting to keep all living things safe from the darkness that stayed hidden in shadow, for his eyes saw well beyond elvish orbs and he now could sense a foulness in the air on occasion. Any fear he had before vanished, replaced by an anger that surprised him and he spoke not of it with his father, though he instinctively knew that the elf beside him felt it as well.

_____________________________________

YT 1476-Valmar

After several weeks of travel the two elves at last cleared the forest, reaching a grassy plain with occasional smaller trees dotting the landscape yet they paled to the enormity and the beauty of the golden Laurelin and the silver Telperion.

Golden light held sway and Elendur felt joy erupt in his heart at being so close to the Two Trees and he whispered in awe, "I see now why you are drawn to the light, father. It's so beautiful... and warm..."

The Maia smiled at his son, nodding as he gazed upon the Two Trees. "It is beautiful... and in need of protection," he replied, features turning serious as he waved the younger elf to follow, the pair heading toward the golden gates of Valmar that shone in the glow of Laurelin's light.

Silver rooftops were visible, even in the distance, and the city loomed larger the closer they got and at last they stopped before a massive gate where two Vanyar stood at post, spears resting against their shoulders and the younger elf was surprised to see such open arms carried but said nothing as the golden haired guard to his right spoke,

"Welcome to Valmar, Telerin," the guard began, his blue eyes shifting over to Elendur, noting the younger elf's golden hair and he added with a bit more respect, "and one of our kin , what is it you seek?"

"We seek to speak with Eönwë in regards to the Two Trees," Olórin answered. "I am Feangol, husband to Alatáriel whose grandmother is Indis the Fair." He paused, making a graceful motion of his left hand towards his son, "And this is Elendur, my son."

The guard studied the two elves, searching their faces before nodding. "Yes.. I can see the resemblance. You are of course allowed to enter our fair city. Just follow the main road straight through and you will find the Maia's palace at the end." He tapped his spear twice and the gate swung open slowly, revealing streets that glittered in a golden hue and the pair entered, following the guard's directions.

Elendur took in the surroundings, noting that the buildings were similar to the ones back in Tirion but with one rather odd feature.

Many of the houses seemed to float in the air and he could not help but murmur, "What sorcery is this?"

The Maia of course, knew precisely why the buildings floated. "Ancient magic, Elendur," he answered, keeping his eyes forward. "Maiar live here and the Valar are known to spend much time within the City of Bells. With such concentrated amounts of power, it stands to reason there would be side affects to their prolonged presence."

Elendur kept pace with his father, sensing the truth of what he was saying. "The power here is... strong... much stronger than anything I've ever been able to feel before. No wonder this city is so... unique."

Olórin nodded. "It is very unique. The weapons carried here are in the open. There is no fear of anything. It is no wonder they kept Melkor confined the first few years here. He would be unable to do anything without being detected and... dealt with." He led his son onward, stopping before a second series of gates, the sound of metal clanging in off patterns in the air. A voice called out from beyond the white walls, asking,

"Who goes there?"

"Feangol of the Teleri and his son Elendur asking permission to enter and speak with Eönwë," Olórin answered, looking over to his son who asked softly,

"What is all that clanging noise, father?"

"It seems that Eönwë is working on his craft."

"Craft?"

Olórin gave no answer as the gates opened, revealing the form of a rather tall Vanyar she-elf, her blue eyes focused on the elder male as she spoke, "This way please."

The Maia motioned Elendur to follow and they walked down a stone pathway that weaved through a botanical garden, cutting through a single story building complex that veered off in both directions. The sound of clanging metal grew louder as they passed another open courtyard full of water fountains and pools. Several beings were visible reading or writing, a few looking up to study the two elves with mild curiosity as they passed then cut through another building.

The clash of metal  was nearly deafening now and their escort stopped, motioning them to wait in their spot before leaving the pair to stand under a pillared roof.

Olórin's gaze focused upon on the tall imposing flaxen haired male in full armor, his strong features an expression of concentration as he brought up a broad sword, blocking a downward sweep from the leaping form of a golden haired Vanyar elf. The blond pushed up, forcing the smaller male away and back, causing him to land some distance away.

The larger male lowered his sword, his voice deep and powerful as he spoke. "That is enough for today, Yanton. We will practice more defensive maneuvers at a later time."

The smaller male bowed his head, his voice low but softer as he replied, "Yes, Lord Eönwë" before taking his sword over to one of the many weapon racks that lined the entirety of the space then carefully placing it back in its designated spot. Yanton headed past the Maia and Elendur, giving them a respectful nod before disappearing from view.

Eönwë turned, blue eyes bright as he addressed the two elves before him. "Ah, Olórin, it has been a long time since I last saw you, though not quite in that form," he said gamely, strolling over to carefully place his broadsword on the nearby rack.

"My lord Eönwë I see you're still forever practicing your art of weapons and their use," the silver haired elf replied.

"Practice keeps one at the peak of their power," the Master of Arms said, turning back to face the pair once more, his gaze now focused upon Elendur, seeing the light of the Maiar within his soul and he quirked an eyebrow. "This must be your son. Your blood flows very strong in him. He'd make a formidable warrior if he so chose."

Olórin looked over at Elendur, smiling a bit. "While I agree with your assessment, we came here not for training but for a favor."

The Lord of the Maia returned his attention to Olórin. "Your elvish form suits you," he murmured. "You always were a rather peaceful and logical being, though I am curious as to the sword strapped to your belt, for it radiates enormous power."

The silver haired male reached down, sliding the scabbard off his belt, holding it horizontally in both hands, offering it to Eönwë to take.

The larger being reached out, carefully taking hold of the gray scabbard, his hand wrapping around the silver hilt and he drew it out, a blinding light erupting, washing over them in intense waves of white and Eönwë gasped in wonderment. "This is Aulë's work. It carries the power of Eru's light within the blade. How did you come by this?"

Olórin blinked at the light, more intense than his own due to the Master of Arms full access to his powers, explaining as his vision adjusted, "Oromë brought it to me long ago. It was a gift from Irmo."

Eönwë's eyebrow shot up as he looked from the blade to the smaller male. "Irmo commissioned this?"

"Yes," Olórin said with a nod. "It is called Haldanar."

"Hiding fire... an appropriate name," Eönwë murmured, sheathing the sword, the light vanishing instantly. He handed it back to the silver haired elf, watching as Olórin slid the scabbard back on his belt. "Now then, what is it you wish to speak to me about?"

Olórin explained his vision and spoke of the discord growing in Tirion and the Lord of the Maia frowned. "Your vision is indeed rather grave and frightening, but do you know the place or time in which this attack upon the Two Trees is to occur?"

"No, Lord Eönwë," Olórin said with a shake of his head. "I confess that there is nothing to indicate the time of day nor the year in which this event occurs. I only feel the sense of impending doom and my heart tells me that this vision is a warning from Eru himself. I am duty bound to heed it so I came to ask for your help."

Eönwë's features turned thoughtful. "The lack of such information presents more of a challenge, but I will of course speak of your concerns with Manwë and I will also talk with Arien and Tilion and ask if they would be willing to watch over the Two Trees, though the Valar they train with may not be willing to let them part from their studies."

"And if they are unable to assist in guarding the trees?"

"Then I will have other eyes on the trees, I promise you," Eönwë answered, walking the two elves back to the gate.

"I know you will be true to your word, my lord, and I pray that what I'm sensing does not occur though my heart tells me the danger is real."

"Do not worry, Olórin. Eru willing what must come to pass will come to pass and the Trees will still remain."

The smaller male frowned but nodded, the two exchanging goodbyes and the elves exited the Western gate of Valmar, heading along the pathway that wound up Corollairë upon which Laurelin and Telperion stood, stopping before the Two Trees.

Elendur craned his neck back, studying the Golden light at its zenith, the faint light of silver pulsing nearby, he closed his eyes, their voice heard, musical and alive. "The trees are singing father. I see now why you love them so."

The Maia smiled, his eyes focused on Laurelin as he walked forward, resting his hand upon her golden bark.

I have done what I must to protect you, he sent to the tree, joy filling him as the tree shook its leaves in reply, grateful for his words.

He moved over to Telperion, repeating the message, silver leaves shimmering in response.

Olórin lowered his hand, casting one last glance before saying, "It is time to depart and head home, Elendur. Your mother is waiting."

Elendur nodded, turning, following his father as they began their journey back to Tirion where his mother awaited them.

_______________________________________

YT 1476-Alqualondë

"Greetings, Lord Olwë. It has been far too long since we last were in each other's presence," Olórin sang joyfully to the Telerin King.

Olwë strode forward, coming to a stop before the Maia. "It has been a long time indeed. It is nice to have you with us once again," the white haired elf replied. His blue eyes shifted over to Elendur and he moved over to stand before him. "You must be Elendur. Your father has wrote much of you over the years." The king paused, seeing the power in the boy's eyes, sensing the same power as Feangol had. "You have your father's eyes and spirit."

"So I've been told," Elendur replied with a smile.

Olwë returned the smile, moving to stop before Alatáriel and his brow furrowed a bit. "Granddaughter, you're as radiant as ever though there is an air of fatigue in your eyes. What troubles you so?"

Alatáriel looked up at her grandfather, voice soft, "The trip was long, grandfather, and there is unrest in Tirion. But I am happy to be free from it, if for only a little while."

Olwë's features grew serious. "I have heard of the trouble from messenger birds and your husband's writings. I am sorry that things have devolved over such petty matters but I can assure you that you will find rest here."

Alatáriel bowed her head, features and tone grateful. "I thank you, grandfather, for hosting my family in your home. I look forward to relaxing and forgetting my troubles for a while."

"Once you've settled in your rooms, we'll have a feast prepared for you this evening."

The three elves were led to their room and the Maia left his wife to rest, taking Elendur into the city, pointing out the various buildings before heading to the shore where the docks lay, the sound of singing carrying on the wind and Elendur marveled at the number of ships coming and going and he pointed out towards the sea.

"What is that great green land out there, father?"

"That is Tol Eressëa. Many Teleri live on that massive island. It has three cities, Kôrtirion, Avallonë, and Tavrobel. I learned to dive and swim off the shores of Avallonë and it is most likely that you too will follow the same path I did growing up here."

The blond elf closed his eyes, focusing his hearing and he caught new sounds, listening as he murmured, "The sea's voice is a soft and beautiful song today."

"You hear Uienen's voice. She is wife to Ossë and they are both Maia in service to Ulmo, Vala of the sea," Olórin explained. "When her voice calls, the waters will remain calm and clear. But when her husband sings, his voice is deep and powerful, frightening in its intensity, because Ossë revels in storms. So the Teleri know when to go out and when to remain on shore."

"The Teleri are master sailors, correct?"

The Maia nodded. "Many are, though there are also fishermen and divers who forage for food and for treasures that the deep water holds."

"Like what?" Elendur asked.

"Oh... pearls and sea jewels called nemmirils. They travel from the waters of the Itila around Tirion and down into Alatiarë. Your mother owns a clear nemmiril that I found off the shores of Avallonë as a child."

"Mother told me of that," Elendur replied, opening his eyes to study his father. "She said you were very brave and fought off a sharp tooth to keep it."

Olórin raised his eyebrows. "Your mother spoke of that did she?"

Elendur nodded. "Mother said she was in love with you even then. She said you were the bravest elf she's ever known. Even when you were scared, you still faced danger in order to keep her safe."

The Maia smiled, voice humble. "I love your mother, so of course I would keep her safe. No extra heroics were involved, Elendur."

The blond elf studied his father, brow furrowed. You never take credit for anything, do you? Turning back to study the sea, Elendur changed the subject, asking, "So what will I be learning while I'm here father?"

"Sailing, diving, fishing, swimming, how to understand the tides and currents of water. How to make different foods with the bounty of the sea and how to sing. Those kind of things."

Elendur blinked. "Nothing of crafts?"

"All those things are a craft, Elendur, but there is the building of ships if you wish to learn. But that will be up to Olwë. He will be your guide and will arrange for many teachers

to guide you."

"What of you and mother?" the blond elf asked.

Olórin smiled. "We will most likely explore the sea and shore in our own way." He sensed the concern in his son and he spoke in a reassuring tone. "Do not worry, Elendur. We will never be far from you and if you wish for me to come with you on any of your training sessions, I will do so."

"I do not mean to worry, though it's a new experience for me. It's rather exciting as well and I look forward to learning new things and understanding Teleri culture better."

The Maia chuckled silently though his eyes twinkled as he spoke. "You sound like your mother just now. Must be the Noldor influence." He patted his son on his shoulder then motioned with his head for the boy to follow. "Come... let us have something to eat and then we can discuss what you will learn further."

The elves returned into the city, feasting and singing.

In the morning Elendur's training began while Olórin and Alatáriel headed to the shoreline, walking hand in hand down the beach, reminiscing their first meeting.

"This is where I found you, Feangol," the lady said, smiling as she crouched down in the sand. "You were so still, I thought the sea had spit you out and left you here to die. When you woke up I was so surprised and your eyes... so blue... I was memorized... I knew... even then, that you were special."

The Maia listened, crouching down with her, voice soft. "I remember the brightness of your hair and your smile, I could sense the power of the Eldar in you and I was drawn to you. When we... spoke in our minds to each other for the first time, I knew I'd found my Melda Heri."

She kept her gaze focused down, her brow furrowed as she replied, "Yet the vision I saw in your mind has changed. I am no longer there... instead there is this black mist and an armored giant in black and a hideous creature that steals the light from the trees."

Alatáriel chanced a look over to her husband, seeing the tenseness and regret in his features and she reached out to caress his cheek. "Beautiful Feangol, you know you cannot hide anything from me. I know the power in you is unique. I know you are more than you appear so why do you still try to hide it from me? Am I not your wife? Do I not deserve to see your full glory and light?"

The Maia felt a bit of fear at her words, knowing at last that he could no longer keep hidden that which he was but he did not pull away nor did he drop his gaze from hers as he answered. "I am as you see me, my lady. My full glory and light is dimmed in this elvish form."

She studied him in a mixture of curiosity and surprise. "You thought I would be angry at you for what you are? Silly Feangol. I have loved you since the first time I saw you. That you are more than just a simple Teleri elf does not deter my love, it only makes it stronger."

He frowned in confusion. "Stronger?"

She nodded, rising, holding out her hand for him to take.

He looked at her hand then to her before taking it, rising as she pulled him up, blinking as she led him onward, her voice tender as she spoke.

"Yes, stronger. I know you might find it odd but what I feel for you has not diminished. It has grown stronger. For someone of your great power chose me as their wife is a great honor and I confess I am prideful of knowing you are mine as well. But I am curious."

He listened, brow furrowed when her voice went silent. "As to what, my lady?"

She stopped, turning to face him, still holding his hand as she asked, "What is your true name. The name Eru gave you when you came to Arda. What do the Valar call you?"

Her insight was indeed at its pinnacle and he knew it was time to tell her the truth of who and what he was. "My true name... is Olórin. I am a Maia, servant to Manwë, student of Irmo and Nienna. I forsook my full power, becoming incarnate, so that I could stop the vision that plagued my dreams from coming to fruition."

He paused, voice soft and tender as he added, "You were in my vision. You called me Feangol and pulled me from the darkness out of love for me. I fell in love with you and knew you were my Melda Heri. So I prayed for and was granted an elvish form, becoming Feangol. I am still Feangol and remain so until death takes me."

Alatáriel listened, studying her husband. "You did all this for me and a vision?"

"Yes," he answered, feeling a strange sense of relief at having revealed the truth hidden for so many years. "Out of love for you and to stop the darkness plaguing me, I had to find you and I have to stop this vision from occurring. I fear that my efforts will be for naught and I will fail but that doesn't mean I won't do my best to keep everyone safe."

The lady sensed his fear and his love and she shook her head, lifting her hands to cup his face, gently pulling his head down, resting her forehead against his. "Beautiful Feangol, you still affect me... even now, like this, I find myself drawn to you. You make my heart flutter with your words and your bravery."

He wrapped his arms around her, fear fleeing from his heart at her words, voice tender and soft. "I love you, Alatáriel. That you still love me brings a smile to my face and chases the worry from my mind."

She shifted to brush her lips over his, murmuring against them. "I will always love you, Feangol. Nothing will change that."

He returned her kiss, pulling her tight to him, holding her close as the waves crashed against the shore, covering their booted feet and they pulled apart looking down at the cool water then up to each other, laughing softly and they parted, removing their shoes, tossing them a safe distance away, splashing in the water as they chased each other down the shoreline, much as they had the first time they met.

Chapter Text

YT 1478

Elendur stood in the golden glow of Laurelin's light, laughing with the Telerin elves around him as they pulled up Halvon's sails. The blond haired elf had been allowed to name the just completed ship and Elendur christened it after his father's first name, in honor of his Telerin heritage.

"Are you ready to set sail, Elendur?" Arhestion called out to the younger elf, his green eyes twinkling as the wind tugged at his dark hair.

The blond elf nodded, looking over at his parents who had been invited by Arhestion to ride on Halvon's maiden voyage. He saw the look of pride on his mother and his father's faces and he smiled shyly then turned his attention back to the captain as he called out orders, following his instructions as the ship moved out of the harbor, heading for the deeper waters of Alatairë.

The wind blew at a steady clip and Elendur took in the sea air, a sense of adventure filling him as he gazed down at the blue water, eyes bright with joy as a pod of dolphins leaped out of the water, clicking out a welcome and a race you!

The blond elf laughed and waved down at them as he shouted out, "You're on!"

Olórin smiled at the sight of his son, happy at his joy before shifting his gaze over to his wife, watching as she moved away from him, heading for the port side of the deck. He saw her lean against the railing, a sense of strong longing to travel emanated from her and he knew her mind in that moment.

For some time now, the lady's thoughts had turned to Middle Earth, the recent troubles in Tirion had only given fuel to Alatáriel's desire to have a kingdom of her own, far away from Valinor and her cousins, whom she disliked. And while the Maia could not blame her for her feelings, he was still leery of leaving the safety of Valinor.

Walking over, he stopped to his wife's right, voice soft as he spoke, "The sea calls to you, Melda Heri. And you wish to answer it, do you not?"

Alatáriel kept her gaze focused out towards the blue water, unable to hide the smile on her face. "You know me well, Feangol," she began, preferring his elvish name to the one given to him by Eru. "I am tired of all the fighting and the tension here in Valinor. I wish to know what it's like to explore new land, to build a kingdom of my own. I want to be free to do as I please and have those of like mind join me."

The Maia listened, his eyes focused on the sea below the fast moving ship as he replied, "I understand your frustration, Alatáriel. I know that you wish to leave this place and your heart will never truly be happy unless Elendur and I join you." He paused, gripping the railing as he features turned more serious. "I told you before of my hesitation to leave the safety of this land. I still must solve the riddle of my growing visions and stop them from occurring. If I neglect my duty to the Two Trees I could not live with myself."

Alatáriel sighed but reached out, resting her hand over his. "I would not ask you to abandon your mission, Feangol. I do not want any harm to befall others here, but I'm afraid for you as well. I know it is selfish of me to even ask if you would come with me. But do you understand the true reason why I wish to leave here?"

Olórin tilted his head. "You have mentioned it already, love. You wish to be free to build your own kingdom."

"That is true, but that is not the only reason why," she replied, fear in her eyes as she looked over at him. "I worry that if you remain here... if we all remain here... I will lose you to the darkness that plagues you."

The Maia studied his Melda Heri with concern. " Alatáriel, you will not lose me to the darkness."

"Can you promise me that, Feangol?" the lady countered. "I've seen your visions, I know what is in your mind. I saw you die. I would be heartbroken at your loss, inconsolable in my grief." She moved closer to him, voice soft, full of love and desperation. "Please do not deny this. You will die if you remain here, you know that don't you?"

Her perception was accurate as usual and the Maia lowered his gaze. "My lady, it is very possible I will die confronting the darkness, but if I run away, the darkness will follow. If I can stop it here and now, then no one else will have to suffer."

Alatáriel saw pain in his features and felt the conflicted emotions and her features softened. Reaching out, she crooked her finger under Feangol's chin, gently urging him to look up at her, caressing his cheek when he met her gaze. "Beautiful Feangol, I know you love me and I know you love our son. You do not want to part from us." She paused, studying his face, finding the strength of his light reflected in his sapphire pools and she leaned forward to rest her forehead against his. "But I know you also feel duty bound to protect this land. Please do not feel I am angry or upset at you. I only wish to keep you safe, my fear at losing you clouds my judgment of things."

Olórin listened, wrapping an arm around her as he leaned into her touch. " Alatáriel, I understand your trepidation. I feel the same, my heart longs to do as you wish. I want to go where you want to be... but my mind cannot let go of my duty. I pray that I am wrong. I pray that what I see does not come to pass but I feel that it will and I must be here to prevent it, even at the cost of my life."

Alatáriel leaned into Feangol's embrace, his words hurting her heart though her mind understood his reasoning. "Then I will remain here with you, husband, though I fear things will only become worse the longer we stay in Valinor."

He held her, turning his gaze back to the sea. "I fear you are right, my lady. But we must do our best to keep others, and our son, safe."

Alatáriel looked over at Elendur, smiling a bit at the carefree attitude of her son. His laughter and joy was child like and beautiful and the thought of her son dying in the darkness scared her and she murmured. "You are right, Feangol. We must keep our son safe."

Halvon continued its course, passing the lonely isle, heading towards the open water, turning port side to follow the shoreline of Tol Eressëa, heading back to the harbor, maiden voyage complete and the elves climbed out, heading off to their next tasks, Feangol escorting his lady to Olwë's palace, while Elendur went off with his Telerin friends to practice their swimming, still learning the way of his father's kin.

It would be two more years before the three elves would depart back to Tirion, finding the turmoil just as bitter as when they left, the discontent building for 10 more years.  Fëanáro openingly defied and spoke ill of the Ainur, influencing many other Noldor who became eager to leave Valinor and create kingdoms of their own, free of the influence of the higher beings. His arrogance and pride was fueled by Melkor who whispered dark words and planted thoughts in the great smith's head but it could not be proven, for Fëanáro's own fire was bright and untamed, his words quick and moving to those of like mind, and the hostility between the great smith and his half brothers houses reached a boiling point in which even Finwë could no longer ignore.

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YT 1490

Finwë sent for his lords to hold a council to decide how best to handle the festering hostility and they stood within his great throne room, the dark haired High King listening to the various speakers debate on what should be done to ease the tension when his blue eyes caught sight of Arcáno, dressed in his finest blue garb, anger in his features and voice as he addressed his father.

"My king and my father, can you not restrain the pride of Fëanáro, who speaks as if he were the High King? He has driven a wedge between you and your other two sons who love you no less than he. If you do not do something to temper his tongue, you will lose both me and Finarfin to the arrogance of the Spirit of Fire."

Finwë listened to his son with troubled eyes. That he had always treated his first born with more love and attention than his other children was no secret, for he felt great guilt for his first wife's passing and his remarriage, yet he did love Arcáno and Finarfin and their sister Findis and did not like to see them upset. The High King was about to reply when a loud gasp was heard and Finwë lifted his gaze, eyes widening as the crowd parted, revealing Fëanáro in full armor, a sword strapped to his side.

"What are you doing Fëanáro?" Finwë asked, his question ignored as the great smith spoke, fire in his words and his eyes.

"So my half-brother is before my father, as I have guessed, trying to usurp me." In a sudden movement, Fëanáro drew out his sword, pointing it directly at Arcáno, an open look of disdain and rage upon his face. "Get thee gone and take thy due place!"

Arcáno clenched his jaw but could not contest his elder brother's threat, as he was unarmed and rather than increase the conflict, he bowed before his father and turned, leaving the main chamber.

The great smith watched him leave, driven by a sudden darkness that consumed his heart and he chased after his brother, blocking his exit into the Great Square.

The younger brother frowned, eyes widening as Fëanáro drew out his sword once more, a glint of malice in his eyes as he lifted the blade, resting the tip against Arcáno's chest.

"See this half-brother?" Fëanáro said. "This point is sharper than your tongue. If you try again to usurp my place and my father's love, I will kill you and rid the Noldor of your influence!"

Gasps erupted at the threat, the words loud and even the Valar took notice of it but Arcáno gave no answer, walking past his elder brother and out the door, heading for the Eastern Quarter to seek out Finarfin, finding his brother speaking with his grandson in the front courtyard.

Finarfin turned as he spied Arcáno, his smile falling at the anger and fear in his brother's eyes and features and he called out in concern, "Arcáno, what is the matter?"

"Our elder brother is what is the matter..." the dark haired elf growled. "He threatened me with death simply because I was speaking with father. In front of everyone. I couldn't even defend myself or my honor. He's the cause of all this discontent. Him and his stupid pride and arrogance!"

The blond haired elf sighed, reaching out to rest his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Come inside, Arcáno, and we'll talk about this."

The dark haired elf frowned but complied and Finarfin looked over at Elendur, knowing the boy's ability at telepathy and he sent out, I am sorry, Elendur. We will continue our discussion later.

The younger elf gave a slight nod, returning, It is alright, Grandfather, I understand that my great uncle is upset. I will see you tomorrow. Elendur turned and walked across the crystal bridge, heading back to his home, finding his father outside practicing his archery and he approached quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

But Olórin sensed his son's return and he lowered his bow, turning as he asked, "How was your visit with your grandfather, Elendur?"

The blond elf went over to his father, voice soft and his brow furrowed. "It went well but then great uncle Arcáno arrived and was very upset about what great uncle Fëanáro had done."

The Maia shook his head, asking, "What did Fëanáro do this time?"

"He carried a sword in the open and threatened great uncle Arcáno with death if he talked to the High King again. He was upset and said that the threat was so loud everyone could hear it."

The silver haired elf blinked, looking up at the sky, features troubled. If the elves all heard it then that means the Valar heard it as well. "No good will come of this," he murmured, turning to his son who asked,

"So will Finwë do something to great uncle Fëanáro? We are not supposed to threaten others with death, that results in banishment after what happened to you long ago."

The Maia sighed, recalling the events that had grievously wounded him those many years ago. "I'm afraid it is now out of Finwë's hands, Elendur. The Valar have no doubt heard the great smith's threat. He will be called to stand before Mandos to explain his actions. Let us hope that at last the truth of the discord will be understood and Manwë will have no choice but to believe his brother to be the cause of this malady that has infected the hearts of so many Noldor," he explained, frowning as a wind passed through, strong and powerful and in his heart he knew that the time had come for the darkness of Melkor to be exposed for the voice of Eönwë traveled upon the wind, sweeping through all to Tirion, calling forth Fëanáro, Arcáno, Finwë, and all who had witnessed the events that had transpired between the great smith and his younger brother.

They were ordered to head to Valmar and so the Noldor involved went and Fëanáro was made to stand before Mandos, who above all others, pronounced judgments. The great smith could not hold back the truth and it was laid bare and at last the foul deeds of Melkor were dragged to the light and Tulkas left the council of the Valar to seek out the traitorous Ainu whom he distrusted but no trace of Melkor could be found.

The great smith was not held blameless, for he had drawn his sword against his kinsman, "You spoke of being in slavery to the Valar. If slavery it be, you cannot escape it; for Manwë is King of all of Arda, not just Valinor. What you have done is unlawful and you are hereby banished from Tirion for twelve years. Think long and hard about what you've done and who you've become. If, before that time, those you've wronged are willing to release you of your grievous behavior then we will call the matter settled and healing may take place."

Arcáno stepped forward and said with great sincerity, "I will release my brother."

But the great smith said nothing, still too proud and arrogant to admit to his mistake and Fëanáro turned, still filled with hatred as he left Valmar, taking a great host of Noldor with him. Finwë left as well, his love for Fëanáro greater than his love for his other family and of his own place as High King. Those loyal to the great smith traveled north, helping to build a great fortress, naming it Formenos. There they hoarded gems and created a massive armory. The Silmarilli were locked away in a chest of iron. Arcáno became High King of the Noldor in Tirion but a shadow loomed and the light of the Two Trees seemed to dim and Melkor continued to hide from the ever present pursuit by Tulkas.

Two years passed and Melkor made his presence known before the gate of Formenos and the dark Vala sought once more to corrupt the great smith with his words, honey laced with lies as he told of the glory of the Noldor and how he alone could help Fëanáro escape the fate sent down to him by Mandos. But he went too far, claiming, "Here is a strong place and well guarded but do not think the Silmarilli are safe from the Valar in the land of Valinor."

Then the hate overcame the great smith's fear, seeing at last through the veil the Ainu wore, spying the lust for the great jewels that he himself had made and Fëanáro slammed the door in the Vala's face while Finwë sent word to Manwë of Melkor's return and the dark Vala fled, even as Oromë and Tulkas went off after him, heading north but Melkor had vanished as a thundercloud and the light of the Two Trees grew bright once more and peace came over the land.

And for a time, all was well, though the Valar remained on high alert for any sign of the dark Vala's return.

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YT 1495-Tirion

"Are you going to the feast, father?" Elendur asked as he watched the silver haired elf pack a gray bag with various food and drink.

The Maia looked up at his son, smiling sadly. "No, I'm afraid I will have to miss the harvest festival in Taniquetil, but you are welcome to go. Your mother has said she wishes to join in the festivities so she will be leaving here soon as well."

"But if you're not going to the festival, where will you being going?"

Olórin tied down the bag, heading over to where Haldanar lay, sliding it on the belt of his tunic as he answered, "To the mound of Corollairë to guard the Two Trees."

"But, I thought the other Maia were guarding it," Elendur said, frowning as he watched his father head back towards the bag on the table.

"The Maiar also attend the festival as well and since it was my request to keep the Two Trees safe, it is only fair that I take over their duties for the time of the festival so that they may have a moment's rest."

The blond elf nodded in understanding. "If that is the case, then let me go with you."

The Maia looked over at his son, remembering the words of his wife and their pledge to keep the boy safe and he shook his head. "I will go alone, Elendur. I want you to stay close to your mother in case something happens while I'm gone."

"But father..." Elendur started, surprised when his father interjected.

"I do not want you harmed, Elendur. If this is the time my vision comes to pass, then I will face it alone. I do not want anyone else to suffer what I saw in my dreams," he replied in a stern voice then sighed at the sense of hurt he felt coming from his only child. "It isn't that I would not welcome your company, it is that I cannot risk your life over something I have seen occur. The vision is mine, so too, must the confrontation be. Melkor is out there, biding his time. It would make perfect sense for him to come now, when everyone is distracted. So I have a mission I wish for you to carry out for me when you arrive at Taniquetil."

"What is it you wish me to do, father?"

Olórin grabbed the bag on the table, lifting it up and slinging it over his shoulder as he answered. "Inform Eönwë to keep his eyes posted on Valmar and the Two Trees. If what is true in my vision, Melkor will come to the light first to drown Valinor in darkness so as to do whatever foul deed it is he wishes to commit. Inform him that I will keep the Trees as safe as I can in the guardians absence."

"Is that all, father?" Elendur asked, turning to walk with the older elf as they headed down the staircase where Alatáriel waited.

Olórin's gaze met the saddened ones of his Melda Heri and he murmured. "Yes, that is all, Elendur." The silver haired elf came to stop before his lady, casting a glance at his son who cleared his throat and said,

"I'll.. be outside..."

His parents watched the boy exit the house before Alatáriel cast her gaze back upon her husband. "So you're truly going to do this?" she asked, studying Feangol with worried eyes.

"If I could go with you, I would, but I was the one who asked for guards to watch over the Trees. Arien and Tilion have done that for several years. It is only fair that I take over for them on this occasion so that they may spend some time in the company of the Valar and their own kind."

The Noldor Princess moved closer to her husband, reaching out to take his hands in hers. "My mind understands but my heart does not like this parting," she began, unable to hide the tremor in her voice. "I am afraid for you, Feangol. I'm afraid that what you saw is about to come to pass but I cannot stop it, nor can I aid you in fighting it. I abhor feeling so helpless, it brings back memories of your injury in the waters of Alatairë and your assault by my wicked cousins. It makes me angry and troubled, but I cannot stop you from carrying out your plan."

Olórin listened, feeling his wife's emotions, understanding them as he replied, "You are right in your feelings, Alatáriel. I do not fault you for being afraid for me. I, too, am afraid. I do not wish to confront Melkor directly. But if I can stop or at least delay him so that the Valar can capture him, then I will do so, even at the cost of my life."

The lady shook her head. "This feels... I feel... that if you go... I will not see you again... I'm terrified, Feangol... There is a sense that this is our final goodbye... will you not come with me to Taniquetil? Let the Valar deal with the confrontation of their own. What do we have to do with it?"

The Maia smiled sadly, pulling her to him, unwinding his hands from hers to hug her, his voice soft and tender. "I cannot follow you to the halls of my Lord and my Lady. What I want to do and what I must do are two different things. I am duty bound to protect those trees. If something happens to me you must promise to do what you can to keep you and Elendur safe. Stick close to your father, he will know what to do."

Alatáriel clung to him, reluctant to let him go and she lifted her head, studying him with pained eyes as she pressed her lips against his, pouring out her heart as she kissed him long and deep.

The silver haired elf groaned, returning the passionate kiss, body coming alive and he panted as the broke apart, croaking out, "You're making it hard for me to leave you, Alatáriel..."

The lady gave a soft laugh, panting a bit as she shifted, bringing her hands up to gently pull her husband's head down to hers, resting her forehead against his. "I do not want you to leave, Feangol, but I know you must... just promise me you will come back alive and well. I will be lost without your guidance and love."

The Maia smiled, reaching up to trace his thumb across his wife's bottom lip. "I will come back to you, one way or another." He hesitated to pull back but at last untangled himself from her, straightening his frame.

Olórin made a slow, graceful motion with his right arm, bringing it forward to his heart than back out. "Melin, Alatáriel. Nemárië, Melda Heri."

The lady did not want to let him go but lowered her arms as he pulled away from her. She studied her husband with loving eyes, even as her heart ached and her mind screamed, Don't go!

Alatáriel, repeated the motion, controlling her emotions, not wanting him to see her pain, knowing her beloved's heart was already wounded at the forced parting, "Melin, Feangol. Nemárië, Melda Heru."

Olórin nodded, walking slowly past her and out into the courtyard, coming up to his son as he spoke. "Take care of your mother while I'm gone, Elendur. If something happens to me, you stick close to your grandfather and do as he asks. Do you understand, my son?"

"I do, father," Elendur replied, blinking when his father reached out and hugged him.

"Remember what I've taught you, Elendur. Remember that I love you and that I'm proud of you," Olórin murmured, smiling as he pulled back and gently rested his hand on his son's left shoulder as he passed. "Nemárië, yonya."

The Maia continued onward, turning at the bridge to study his home one last time before he shifted, making his way through the Northern Gate of Tirion, treading the path he took so many times before as he journeyed towards Laurelin and Telperion.

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YT 1495- Taniquetil

The halls of Manwë were alive with the sounds of music and singing. All the Vanyar and most of the Noldor had come as requested, along with all the Maiar and most of the Valar. The Teleri alone remained in their home, caring not for seasons, content to remain on the shores of the sea.

The Lord of the Valar was visible to all and had called forth Fëanáro in the hopes of heal the evil rift that had divided the Noldor. The great smith had arrived alone, while the rest of the Noldor and Finwë remained in Formenos.

Alatáriel watched as her uncle walked into the great hall, heading for the throne of Manwë, turning her head as Elendur walked away, heading towards one of the great arches that opened into the air, his gaze focused downward where the blending of silver and gold were nearing their peak. She went over to him, voice soft as she spoke, "You are worried about your father?"

"Yes," Elendur replied, voice and features distant. "I do not understand why he chose to do this on his own. Why could he not just come here with us?"

"Your father is a caring person," the lady replied. "He wanted his friends to enjoy the festival and he took their place so that they could be free to do so. He feels... a personal responsibility for the trees. His vision guides his actions. And he will do what he must to prevent the darkness from taking hold."

"But what if he can't stop it? What if the darkness was meant to happen?"

The Noldor princess's features tightened. "If he cannot stop what he believes will happen, then there is some other purpose for his vision, but what that is, I cannot say." She turned her gaze back to the crowd at the sound of her uncle Arcáno's voice,

"As I have said before, I release you and remember no grievance."

She watched as the great smith took his brother's hand remaining silent, letting Arcáno continue,

"Half-brother in blood, full brother in heart. You will lead and I will follow. May no new grief divide us."

"I hear you," Fëanáro replied. "So be it."

Much rejoicing erupted from the crowd and even Alatáriel was surprised. "Did you hear that, Elendur? My uncles have reconciled, quite the surprise."

"What is that?"

She frowned, turning her attention back to her son. "What is what?" she asked, watching as her son lifted his hand and pointed downward towards the lights in the great distance that glowed brightly. "I see nothing."

"There's a darkness in the field. Moving towards the Two Trees," he murmured. "That's not normal."

"Darkness..." Her eyes widened at the realization and she gripped her son's arm. "It's Melkor. He's heading for the Two Trees like your father said he would!"

The blond elf frowned, turning to his mother. "I must tell Eönwë."

"I will go with you," Alatáriel said, turning to follow her son as the pair weaved through the crowd as they searched for the Lord of the Maiar, finding him sipping on a glass of wine and Elendur went up to him first, voice low and insistent.

"Lord Eönwë, I am sorry to bother you, but there is something I think you should see."

The tall blond Maia saw the look of concern in the elf's eyes and the emotion in the she-elf's, knowing these were those precious to Olórin and he set his goblet upon the table and spoke, "Show me."

He was led to the arch that faced the valley near Valmar and his far seeing eyes caught movement of a black shadow, though what was within was unseen and his gaze narrowed, watching as the mist continued on a straight path, heading for Laurelin and Telperion.

So you were right after all, Olórin.

Opening his mind, Eönwë sent what he saw to Lord Manwë who rose from his throne suddenly, calling out,

"Sorontar, to me!"

The Valar marched down the hall, now unseen by the elves, Tulkas and Oromë close behind, leaving the hall, heading out upon the mountain top, standing upon the cliff, a great cry traveling upon the wind as a massive eagle flew towards them, landing with measured grace, the creature's voice deep and masculine. "Lord Manwë, I have come as you have called, what is it you desire of me?"

"I wish for you to carry us to Corollairë with all haste and speed."

The eagle bowed his head, turning to allow the Valar to climb upon his back and the great creature took off, soaring high in the sky, rocketing down, heading straight for the glowing light of the Two Trees.

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YT 1495- Corollairë

Olórin remained standing between the Two Trees, his eyes and senses ever alert for any sign of danger.

The silence was odd, as the streets of Valmar were barren, for none of the Maiar or those of the Vanyar that lived there walked upon its golden paths. He felt in this moment alone and vulnerable but he kept his back straight and his gaze forward.

The hum of Haldanar was growing stronger, as if it sensed something the Maia did not and he pushed back his blue cloak, his left hand resting on the scabbard, the fingers of his right twitching, anticipating a threat that his mind had not realized yet.

A soft breeze blew by, whispering an approaching darkness from the south and his eyes narrowed at the growing mist of black, his heart falling at the realization that the vision that had plagued him for so long was coming to pass and he positioned himself at the edge of the green mound, the darkness now upon him and he felt a power within him that burst forth in words as he drew out Haldanar, the light blinding and powerful as he shouted, "Ceniessë macilwa sina mornië rucuva! An mahtan essenen Eruva!"

The Maia slashed downward, the mist parting, revealing a towering black armored giant and massive eight legged creature with beady red eyes and a set of fangs for teeth. "Melkor..." Olórin spat, holding Haldanar upright over his head with his right hand, his left hand stretched out, posture defensive as he kept his eyes glued to the dark Vala who laughed.

"Well done, pet of Manwë, you've accomplished what my own kin could not! But your bravery will do you little good against me. You are not even at full strength in that weak elvish body of yours and no matter the power of that blade you hold, I will not be denied my vengeance!"

Melkor shifted the spear in his hand, pointing it outward, making a quick stabbing motion which the Maia deflected, using his speed to outmaneuver the strike.

The dark Vala growled and swung around, repeating the motion, the viciousness of the attacks driving Olórin to take a defensive position, the black mist circling around them, but unable to engulf the light within the Maia's blade and he stabbed downward, the weapon sinking into the ground.

Aa wave of holy light burst around him, obliterating the darkness and he rose in a speed beyond sight, yanking the blade out, metal slicing flesh open as the leaping form of the misshapen creature screeched in pain, its front leg sheared off and it hobbled and collapsed back, nursing the wound.

The dark Vala growled in frustration. "Damn your light!"

Melkor lashed out with his spear, the Maia parrying each thrust with a swipe of his blade, frowning as the mist swept in once again, blocking his view beyond the glow of the Haldanar and he sensed at the last second the approach of the ugly creature and he whirled around, bringing his blade up as he stumbled back.

Massive fangs were as it lunged upon him, only to squel in pain as the pure light burned its dark body and form, forcing it away.

He rose from the ground, gasping at the at the sudden screams of Laurelin and Telperion in his head.

"No!" Olórin cried, whirling around slashing at the mist in wide arcs, eyes widening at the sight of Melkor piercing the Two Trees.

"Ungoliant! Now it is time to feed!" His dark laughter rang out in the stillness of the air and the Maia rushed forward, anger filling him and he leaped up in an attempt to take off Melkor's head but the Vala anticipated the attack and brought his spear up with his right hand, blocking the downward sweep then lashed out with his left fist, striking the silver haired elf in the chest.

The force tore through his gray tunic, shredding skin and muscle, snapping bone, the shards puncturing his right lung and blood shot out from the Maia's mouth, his cry of pain muffled as he crashed into the ground. Olórin fought for breath, his right hand still gripping Haldanar as his fading sapphire eyes witnessed the death of the Two Trees, the light absorbed by the creature called Ungoliant, the sounds of her feeding sickening in their gluttony and the beast turned around, red eyes manic as it hissed out,

"What shall we do with this little one here?"

The dark Vala said nothing for a few seconds, lifting his gaze southward as he hissed, "Clever little Maia... it seems your sword had delayed us long enough for my brother to notice our presence." He turned to the spider like creature growling. "Do what you will but make it quick, I want to head north for the jewels before the Valar realize what I'm up to." His black cape whirled and the corrupt Ainu disappeared in the mist, leaving Olórin alone with Ungoliant.

"I'm going to drain you dry little elf..." she taunted, limping towards him, fangs dripping with venom as she lunged up, trying to drive her fangs into his chest but the Maia used the last of his energy, bringing the blade up, slicing off both fangs with one strike. 

The creature's poisonous venom gushed out in all directions, pouring into the elf's open wounds as the beast screamed and scuttled away, following Melkor, the mist fading at the pair fled north, the shadow now gone but darkness remained, Varda's stars visible in the sky as Olórin stared up, unblinking as his body grew still and no sounds were heard.

Chapter Text

YT 1495- Valinor

Sorontar flew high above Valinor, bearing Manwë upon his back, his sharp eyes focused on the flashes of Eru's light slicing through the darkened mist and he sensed the king's anger and concern. For the great eagle knew that the Maia, turned Elf, Olórin, stood alone in defending the trees and could not last long against the greater strength of his lord's corrupted brother.

Far below, Tulkas, strong and swift, raced along the grassy plain, some distance ahead of his king and the host of Oromë. The Ainu was eager to do battle with Melkor, he who had betrayed the trust of his fellow Valar and corrupted that which Eru had brought into being.

No joy or satisfaction did the bearded Vala find in the confirmation of his suspicions that the evil within Melkor's heart had never truly died. Nay, it had merely been hidden from Manwë's eyes.

His king had forgiven too easily and many had and would suffer for it.

Tulkas would not be so forgiving. He would strike down Melkor and bind him with Angainor just as he had in the first war and deliver him to the doomsman, Mandos, to cast through the door of night.

But first, he needed to reach Corollairë.

There, beyond the mist that hid the two trees, Tulkas spied the light of Eru and witnessed the form of a silver haired elf drive back the spear of Melkor again and again, until the darkness took hold and a screech of pain and a roar of defiance clashed and all light went out.

Darkness swept over the land at the death of the two trees, the shadow a living presence, fed by malice and hatred of light. It confused the mind and stifled the will and awakened a great fear in the hearts of all living creatures.

Tulkas, brave and impatient, plunged without thought into the living unlight, heedless of the danger, stopping not for the fallen form of Feangol, so intent was he on capturing his foe, only to lose his way and he crashed about, his eyes and ears deceived and he lashed out at nothing.

High above, Sorontar's vision failed him and he could no longer see which way to go, so thick was the darkness. Heeding his lord's commands, the Great Eagle pulled back , landing outside the mist as carefully as he could allowing Manwë to dismount and continue on alone towards the blinding darkness.

All singing had ceased upon Valinor.

No words were spoken in those first few moments, until the silence was broken by the frightened voices of the Teleri, their wailing carried by the wind that swept through the swirling black mist that robbed all of sight.

Atop Taniquetil, Ilmarin alone had what little light remained, though the Eldar host fell into despair and lamentation, crying out their distress. But it was within the heart and mind of Alatáriel, that the distress and uncertainty was at its most potent. For the darkness meant that Feangol had...

She could not bring herself to dare think it. She needed to go to him... needed to find him and a sudden desperation filled her.

Panicked eyes sought Eönwë, finding him heading out of the feasting hall. She followed in great haste, Elendur close behind and they soon came to an open clifftop where a massive eagle landed before the Lord of the Maia.

“Lord Eönwë!” she cried, finding her voice at last. “My husband! I must see him! Take me to him, please, I beg you!”

The Maia turned at the desperate cry of the she-elf, her plea moving his heart. For Olórin was of his kind, even in elvish form, and much that was could have been prevented had his own lord listened to what had been foretold.

His concern and uncertainty over Olórin paled to that of the lady and her son. He felt the weight of responsibility fall upon him and a decision was swiftly made.

With a motion of his arm, Eönwë spoke, his tone both urgent and affirming. “Come. Endiel will bear us to Corollairë.”

Alatáriel needed no further urging and she climbed upon Endiel's back, taking a space behind Eönwë while Elendur sat behind his mother.

Endiel rose to her full height, spreading her wings as she gained lift. Her sharp eyes caught sight of the fire from Nahar's hooves racing across the plain, the only light visible on the ground and she followed, until descending carefully at Eönwë's urging.

The great eagle came to land beside her brother, Sorontar, and she lowered to allow for her charges to dismount.

A crouching silhouette rose and turned at their approach, the form of Manwë visible as the clouded darkness began to dissipate. In that moment, Alatáriel gasped then stared in horror as she saw at last what was hidden.

There, beneath the dying trees, her husband's body lay.

She shook her head violently, her mind unwilling to believe what her eyes were seeing, body trembling even as her legs began to move, her knees buckling at the sight that met her gaze.

His body was broken, his beautiful features marred by blood and his eyes... once alive with light, were now dull and unseeing.

Tears welled in Alatáriel's eyes, falling like rain as she reached out to lift and cradle her beloved against her, lowering her forehead to rest upon Feangol's. Warmth still radiated from his skin yet there was no life, no spark within him and the lady's mind began to unravel.

Overwhelmed with grief, the ache in her chest became unbearable. Alatáriel's broken heart fractured as her mind and soul fell into a dark pit of desolation, unable to contain the scream of agony that exploded from her throat as she hugged him close and began to rock back and forth.

She heard not the cries of Elendur as he came to fall beside her, nor saw the expressions of sadness upon Eönwë and Manwë as they stood protectively over them, so lost was she in her sorrow.

It was only when she was physically spent that she at last relented and allowed Elendur to take Feangol away from Corollairë and back to Endiel, who, at the command of Eönwë, bore the grieving family to the Garden of Lórien. There, they met with Irmo who sent for his sister, Nienna, she who could heal through tears, and the former teacher of Olórin washed away the wounds, mending skin and bone but no life returned and Alatáriel's heart broke further.

If a Valar could not bring back her beloved, then he was lost to her.

Despite her grief, Alatáriel knew her parents would be worried at their absence and thus sent Elendur to inform them of all that had happened.

Now alone with Irmo, she listened as the Vala of Dreams offered to lay Feangol to rest much as he had for Finwë's first wife, Miriel, within the Garden of Lórien and the lady pondered as to the fate of her husband before finally answering,

“Lord Irmo, I know you are aware of my knowledge as to Feangol's true nature. You have been a wonderful friend and teacher to him during his time upon Valinor and your willingness to assist me is not unwelcome....”

Irmo gave a slight nod but remained silent as the lady continued.

“But while I know that his true form is not what lays in front of us now, it is the form he chose to take to try and save us all from the darkness that has now consumed our world. I do not wish for his body to remain so close to what ended it.” She paused, strength returning to her voice, laced with a wifely pride as she added, “He died as a Teleri elf. As such he should be returned and allowed to rest among them.”

A look of understanding took hold of the Vala's face. “I will honor your wishes,” he said then asked, “Do you mean to follow him then? To Alqualondë?”

Alatáriel nodded, her gaze remaining upon the still form of Feangol. “I am weary and in need of peace, far away from Tirion.”

“And your family?”

“That I do not know,” she said. “But for my part, I wish to leave this place as soon as it is possible.”

“I will make the arrangements upon my return,” Irmo promised before fading from view.

For Manwë had called a meeting of the Valar at the ring of doom to discuss what could be done to return light to Valinor, and the Vala of Dreams could not refuse the summons.

And so Alatáriel alone remained beside Feangol, long after the shadow of death had been carried away by the winds of Manwë and the air had become clean once more.

Night continued to rule the sky, save for Varda's stars, but the lady cared not, the soft red glow of the Fumellar providing enough illumination for her to see her beloved and she noted that his form remained unmarred and unwithering. How could such a thing be, if he were truly dead?

Was it possible that...

“Alatáriel?”

The sound of her father's voice broke her train of thought but Alatáriel did not turn to meet his gaze as she greeted in return, “Father...”

Finarfin's brow furrowed at the hoarseness in his daughter's voice. “It does you no good to remain here, Alatáriel. Feangol is...”

“Gone...” the lady finished before he could, challenging eyes shifting to stare at her father. “Look upon him and tell me that he's truly dead...”

The older elf shifted his gaze to the prone form of his son-in-law as his voice grew softer. “His body will always remain unblemished, Alatáriel. So it is within the Garden of Lórien. Your grandfather's first wife is much the same and she left this world long before you were born.”

There was pain in his voice that matched her own. She knew well enough as to why.

News upon the wind had recently reached her ears as to the murder of Finwë by Melkor and all that transpired after and her heart broke further. For her father's sorrow was no less than her own. “Will grandfather be laid to rest here as well?”

“I cannot say for certain,” Finarfin answered. “But the murder of my father and the theft of the Silmarilli by Morgoth has sparked a need for vengeance within Fëanáro's heart. I fear what is to come upon his return to Tirion.”

Morgoth. The black foe of the world. The name given to Melkor by Fëanáro at the Ring of Doom before he fled into the night. This much the lady knew from the whispered words upon the wind. And while her mind shared in her uncle's cry for vengeance, it was fury towards him that fueled the hatred in her heart. “Grandfather could have stopped this long ago. But he let uncle do as he pleased, spoiled him, and took his side on everything and look what it has wrought. Death and misery! And all for what? Some stupid jewels!”

The venom of her voice reached a fever pitch as she clutched her hands into fists and spat out, “I hate him, father! He should have been the one to die! Not Feangol! Not grandfather! Him! It's all his fault! All of this!”

Finarfin understood her vitriol but was of calmer spirit and he reached out to gently hold his daughter's hands in his own, his voice soft, though sad, “Your heart is wounded, I know. I do not blame you for your feelings in regards to your uncle. A great deal of blame can and will be laid at his feet but it was by the hand of Morgoth that Feangol was slain.”

“Morgoth is indeed responsible for killing my husband,” Alatáriel replied, jaw tensing as she spoke. “But had the other Valar listened to him, Feangol would not be laying here lifeless before me. So what will the Valar do now that they know the truth?”

“I cannot say for certain,” Finarfin said. “Perhaps Irmo will reveal it once he's allowed to leave from the Ring of Doom. But even if they continue their pursuit, no amount of vengeance will hasten the return of Feangol's spirit. Should he return at all.”

At this, Alatáriel's lips grew tight with anger. Her husband was a Maia. His spirit would endure beyond the physical death of his Elvish body. Surely Eru would not be so cruel as to deny Olórin's return to the world of Arda and her side?

She made to speak but the words would not come. Her father did not know the truth of her husband's spirit. And she found she could not reveal it to him. Still, doubt crept into her mind as to Feangol's fate. Would he come back to her or would he remain forever sundered from the living?

In that hour, Irmo appeared before them, somber in face and tone and he gave answer before the two Eldar could speak, saying, “Long have the Valar sat in the Ring of doom and pondered as to what shall come of Melkor. Pursuit has been unavailing and we know not by what way he fled Valinor but there can be no doubt that he has returned to Middle Earth.”

He paused briefly, studying the lady, his voice softening as he continued, “I came here by permission of Varda, who has heard your thoughts and felt your sorrow. She has sought an answer from Eru but he has not yet revealed the plan for your husband's return.”

“But he will return, will he not?”

Irmo gave a slight nod as he answered, “Yes, but when that will occur I cannot say. Therefore, as you have requested, so shall I prepare the body of Feangol to be taken to the home of the Teleri. There he will he will remain, unblemished, until such time as Eru deems him ready to return to Valinor. And if you still desire, Manwë will send one of the Great Eagles to bear you to Alqualondë so that you need not traverse the darkened path to the shores of Alatairë.”

Irmo's words gave a small comfort to Alatáriel, the pain in her voice lessened, though uncertainty and fear still remained as she spoke. “Any aid you can give is welcome Lord Irmo. Yes, I still desire to depart for Alqualondë. With Feangol if that is possible.”

“It shall be as you request,” Irmo assured then excused himself to make preparations for their departure.

“So you mean to leave then?” Finarfin asked.

“Yes,” she replied in a distracted tone. “I will find no peace in Tirion so long as I remain without Feangol at my side.”

“Elendur is of like mind to you,” Finarfin stated. “He fears that he would come to blows with the sons of Fëanáro if he were to remain in Tirion.”

The lady's eyes and voice sharpened. “They would be no match for him one on one. But the sons of my uncle do not fight fair and hold no love for our house. No. I will not risk losing Elendur as I have lost my husband.” There was a finality in her voice as she rose and stretched to her full height. “We will leave as soon as is able.”

“I would go with you if I could,” Finarfin admitted. “But I cannot abandon Aracáno while he remains king in Tirion. Your uncle Fëanáro will return soon enough and with what has happened to your grandfather, I know not how stable his state of mind will be when that occurs. It is possible he will challenge Aracáno for the right of kingship or he may have some other scheme up his sleeve. Whatever it is, I will have to do my best to mediate the situation so that no more blood is shed.”

There was truth and wisdom in his words and Alatáriel's did not envy his task. “Father... promise me you will be safe. That you won't fight with my uncle. I can't lose you, too.”

“Do not fear, daughter. If my brother declares war upon us, the Valar will intervene and prevent it. There will be no more death in Valinor.”

Alatáriel was not convinced. “Can you be certain of that, father? Even after all that has happened?”

“There are no certainties in life, Alatáriel, but it is my hope that the faith I hold in the Valar will be justified. Of this I feel to be true. Tirion will not fall into bloodshed.”

The lady said no more on the matter, her mind elsewhere as her gaze returned to Feangol.

Within a short period of time, Irmo reappeared before them saying,

“I have spoken with your grandfather, King Olwë. News has already reached the shores of Alqualondë as to deeds of Feangol upon the mound of Corollairë. Your grandfather has readily agreed to your request and asks only that you inform him where you wish to place Feangol and when and it shall be done.”

The lady made to answer only to go silent as a great cry erupted above and she lifted her head, spying Endiel who circled then slowly descended, landing with a whoosh of wind that shook the leaves upon the trees that surrounded them.

Upon the Great Eagle's back sat Elendur, who dismounted, the hilts of twin swords jutting upward beyond his right shoulder visible and he reached down to adjust the large brown bag slung upon his back, the outline of a shield visible to the sides of his lean form as he walked slowly towards his mother.

Alatáriel frowned at the weaponry but said nothing, watching as her son veered left, taking a spot next to the prone form of Feangol while she remained to the right of her husband, the pair turning now their gaze to Endiel who addressed Finarfin.

“Finarfin, brother to the king of Tirion, I have been permitted to return you to the city if you so wish it, before disembarking for the sea with your kin.”

“I do so desire it. Thank you, Endiel,” Finarfin replied then turned to his daughter and grandson and spoke. “I will miss you while you are away in Alqualondë. Once it is viable, Eärwen and I will come and visit.”

Finarfin slowly turned, moving with purpose towards Endiel then pulled himself up and onto the Great Eagle's back. Eyes back upon his daughter and grandson he shifted his arm to rest across his chest then addressed his kin once more. “I love you both and wish you a safe journey. Nemárië .”

Alatáriel and Elendur returned the gesture, repeating the farewell, the pair watching as Endiel lifted off then disappeared into the night sky.

“Will father remain here in Lórien ?”

“No,” Alatáriel answered, her gaze shifting from the sky back to her husband. “Your father will be coming with us to Alqualondë.”

A sad smile formed upon Elendur's lips. “Father would find that fitting, given his body was that of a Teleri, though he loved the forest and the trees as much as the sea.” He paused, his features turning thoughtful as he added, “There are many trees near the city of Avallonë on the isle of Tol Eressëa. Could we not lay him to rest there?”

The suggestion brought a tender smile to Alatáriel's face. “Yes, we could place him there. Waking up within the forest would indeed be fitting for your father's love of trees.”

“You believe he will come back to us soon?”

The hope within his voice was not lost to the lady, though hers was softer and tinged with sadness. “That I do not know. We can only pray that Eru releases him and returns him back to his body.”

Elendur knew well that the spirits of the elves departed to the hall of Mandos upon their death until they could be reincarnated. But his father was a Maia, and thus, would have returned to Eru upon leaving his flesh and blood elven form. “Why has Eru not done so? Surely father wishes to come back.”

“These things take time,” Irmo interjected, drawing the attention of the two Eldar. “It is not so simple a thing, even as a Maia, to return to Arda. And we do not yet know what plan Eru has now for Olórin. There could be some spiritual damage that will need to be healed before he can return to his Elvish body and that is what is causing the delay.”

That thought had not occurred to Alatáriel, yet now it made perfect sense.

Feangol had fought against Morgoth and for a while held his own, only to sucumb to the overwhelming might of the dark Vala and whatever creature had fed upon the Two Trees. Damage would not be limited to physical blows. Could there be some kind of soul poisoning at play?

“If it is so... if he suffered spiritual damage... How long would it take to mend his spirit?” she asked.

“That is beyond my sight or knowledge,” Irmo admitted. “I have no sense of Olórin anywhere upon Arda and Eru has not yet revealed what has happened to your husband. Not even to Varda. All that can be done is to wait and to care for the body until such time he returns.”

It was not the answer that Alatáriel wished to hear but she had little choice. Feangol would remain lost to her until such time as his spirit healed and he was released by Eru.

In that moment, Endiel returned and spoke,

“Are you ready to travel, Lady Alatáriel?”

“I am,” she answered then turned to Irmo who asked,

“Have you decided where to place Feangol?”

Alatáriel gave her answer and the Vala nodded, speaking in turn to Endiel and the Great Eagle followed his will, carrying mother, father, and son into the night sky towards the Bay of Eldamar and Tol Eressëa.

There, underneath the fragrant green boughs of the Vardarianna growing beyond the city of Avallonë, Feangol was laid to rest, tended to by maidens of Irmo's wife, Estë, so that his body would not wither.

Many a Teleri came to pay their respects, chief among them Olwë, who felt a weight of sorrow no less great than that of Alatáriel and Elendur. For he had loved Feangol as a son and it was his grief stricken voice that led the lament for one of their fallen kin.

Feangol, Feangol!

Adorned in gray

You came from the sea

To live among your kin

Then left for the love

Awaiting in Tirion

Faithful you were

Strong in heart and mind

Upon Corollairë, you stood

One elf alone in a sea of dark

Valiantly you fought

Though doomed to fall

For no Eldar could withstand

The might of the darkest of the Valar

Who took the light of the world

As he struck you down

Oh, Valar, Valar!

How long must we wait?

For his return upon the shores of Alqualondë?

The family mourns

Broken hearted

And the voice of the Lindar

Sings only of sorrow

Alatáriel listened to the beautiful voices that cried out in lamentation, her own words silent as she joined them, her gaze locked upon the prone form of Feangol.

For her the grief was too near, too painful to deal and it wore the lady down, made her body weaken and her legs tremble but she forced the fatigue away, strong and stoic as only an Eldar could be.

So Alatáriel remained, long after the voices grew silent and the Teleri began to depart. It was only the voice of Olwë that drew her attention at last and she turned when he spoke, his voice soft but insistent.

“Come. You are in need of rest.”

She made no protest, letting her grandfather guide her to his ship, Elendur right behind them and they sailed the short distance in the bay to Alqualondë. There she was taken to her guest quarters and the lady shuffled listlessly to her bed.

Sinking down upon the mattress, Alatáriel drew the blanket up and over her eyelids growing heavy as she surrendered to the enervation and she saw and felt no more.