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18. Wind-Singers Volume III.II: The Final March; In the aftermaths of The Hunt and the Artifact: Auruiron, Cellindien, and Inheroth embark with their Host toward the East.
Topic Started: Apr 6 2016, 02:01 PM (3,104 Views)
Ioristion

Chapter CCCXCVIII: The Bloodstained Prince

In Inheroth's chambers, they rested. Lerinon kept silent most of the time, still processing all that had happened, and he often stared at Inheroth.

Inheroth paced across the carpet in a solemn silence, pausing every few moments with a thoughtful look on his face, his brows pinched together. A nervous energy rippled through him, and he kept adjusting the sleeves of his tunic, brushing away dust that was not there from his cloak. Finally he came to a rest, and fixed Agarwaenor with an unreadable look. "Will you remain here for now, brother?" he asked, and there was a hopeful lilt to his voice, a question asked with the desire for a particular answer.

Agarwaenor sat upon his brother's bed. The blood of Fanon was still caked upon his hands, which were folded neatly in his lap. He seemed entirely within his own mind, eyes moving gently under closed lids, until Inheroth spoke. Pale grey eyes fluttered open, but remained fixed upon an empty point in space. "For now," he replied, slowly. His brow twitched subtly. "Only momentarily."

"Momentarily?" Inheroth's frown deepened, and he sat beside Agarwaenor on the bed, resting a gentle hand upon his shoulder. "Where would you possibly go from here? We have need of you here...I have need of you, brother." The words remained unspoken; that Agarwaenor too needed them as well, his family; the extension he had never fully accepted.

Lerinon heaved a deep sigh, "Gwador... perhaps Agarwaenor should return to the Woodland Realm, the way we came.... he is bloodstained now, but he saved our lives through the staining... the bitterness of this day will be felt marked upon this Realm for Ages nonetheless... Let him go where none are yet aware of this... where he may yet find peace, if he so wishes. Or, he may remain... at his peril. Now that blood has been shed, a thing near-unheard of among the Eldar... Lord Fanon's people may never forgive or forget... Yet who am I to speak? I was raised by Feanorians.... For my part, no one need take leave of this Realm... I am more concerned with the others..."

The bloodstained Elf shook his head gently, silver locks wavering in the air where they had escaped their braids. "I will not abide deception. I am kinslayer. Elven lands are no longer meant for me. I will go where our kind dwell not, where none shall speak our tongue nor recognize our countenance. This is the only acceptable course of action."

Lerinon shook his head. "You behaved only in a manner of self-defense, it was Lord Fanon who had drawn forth a blade on his Elven kindred... Have you ever heard the tale of Eol the Dark, and of Maeglin, his son?"

Agarwaenor snorted, and for a moment he gazed upon Lerinon with bitterness in his eyes. "Lecture me not on the history of our race. I am not Maeglin, nor was Fanon thrown from a high wall. I thrust my dagger through his throat. I did this not to protect another, nor to defend myself. Do you understand what I am saying?" His anger subsided, and again was replaced with stoic sobriety. "It was rage. That is what moved my hand. I murdered him because it brought me great joy to do so."

"That is not true," Inheroth stood suddenly, his fists trembling at his sides. "You were protecting yourself; any other explanation is merely a product of your own guilt. Lord Fanon would have slain you where you stood; or he could have thrown his dagger upon me, or the King...so speak not these lies."

Lerinon took a deep breath, and then continued, "I -will- presume to lecture you on the history of our race, at least, in this regard: Have you forgotten that Eol had been executed by King Turgon? Did that make Turgon, and all the Realm of Gondolin, into murderous Kinslayers, when Eol had struck the first blow, and so offended the King's Peace, by murdering Lady Aredhel? Agarwaenor, Gwador... You had a dagger held to your throat, as Inheroth reminds you. You were given few options. Lord Fanon was the Eol. Do you fear the Doom of Mandos, because you have not been so thus graced with authority? Fine, then be thus graced! Your act has my royal blessing as an act of swift execution in self-defense, and, as such, you receive all manner of pardon for it!"

Inheroth nodded swiftly, emphatically as Lerinon spoke. "Yes, exactly," he pressed, as soon as the King fell silent, speaking so quickly his words were close to stumbling. "If that is what it takes, please, grasp at this chance; justify it as you will; but do not bring blame upon thine own head! It will come to naught but despair."

"It is a good hoax you propose. It will convince all. All but myself, and Eru, who knows what now lies in my heart." Agarwaenor turned from them, and ran his hands through his hair, leaving it streaked copper. "You propose that one of your first royal decrees is to make a kinslayer your council, and to feed your kingdom lies. Those who were loyal to Fanon will not conceal our charade forever. This will consume you both in time. I will not allow it."

Inheroth let out an indecipherable sound of frustration, and he turned away, his posture very stiff, grey eyes alight with something like anger. "Would you judge even the sons of Feanor this harshly? I think not. And yet they had slain their brothers by the droves, for their own gains. That is not what you have done here. It is nothing like it at all."

"The Sons of Feanor..." Lerinon mused. "Do you not know, that the hands of my family, are also bloodstained, including with the blood of mine own kith and kin? That I, Elurin, have deigned to forgive this, despite all the centuries of bitter grief that I have harbored over it? While I can never forget, I, through the Grace of the Tears of Nienna herself, can forgive..." His voice turned deep and solemn. "Not all is void or vain," Lerinon tried to smile, "Come, Agarwaenor... Come East with us... and let your bloodstained hands be washed clean in the greatest hours of all that we must do...."

Agarwaenor turned at the waist, regarding the two from the corner of his eye. "I will go East," he conceded, before drifting towards the door. "More than that, I cannot say." With that, he departed for his quarters.

Inheroth watched his brother go, and though he wished to follow, wished to call out his name, he knew that his reassurances would not be wanted. Instead he swore softly, under his breath, in the same manner he had heard the Numenoreans do so, many ages ago. "He didn't listen to us, gwador," he said, turning to Lerinon, his face a mask of sorrow.

"Gwador..." Lerinon heaved a deep sigh, "Do not be afraid... we shall not -leave him- as he would leave us..."

Inheroth took a few steps towards his King, and lowered his eyes. "In my heart I know this well; yet I fear for his mind, and his well being. He has never been one of an easy, cheerful disposition, even when we were children. But I fear his mood will change for the darker now; that he would unthinkingly bring destruction upon himself in some misguided attempt at penance." When he looked up at Lerinon, tears shone in his eyes. "And I do not know how to comfort him. I never have."

Lerinon nodded sadly, enveloping Inheroth in a deep embrace. "Listen," he whispered. "Our father, Auruiron, had similar troubles with Macalaure...... but, in time..... all slowly... became better........."

Inheroth nodded tearfully into Lerinon's shoulder, for he knew the tale, had begged to hear of it many times, when the thought of Auruiron and Makalaure had been so thoroughly remote and far away that he thought only of the majesty of the Elf-lords, had not truly considered the true sorrow that they carried with them. He felt he understood it better now, at least a little. He wrapped his arms tightly around his King.

Lerinon tightened his embrace, deeply kissing Inheroth on his warm, smooth cheeks, "All will be well, my Gwador... I promise you..."

Inheroth nodded slowly, and brushed the remaining wet that clung to his long dark lashes. "Indeed," he said weakly, with a conceding dip of his head. "I will speak with Agarwaenor on the morrow. Until then; there is still much to do, my King. You should speak to Ioristion soon. Though he lowered his arms against you, there is much that needs to be said between you."

Then Lerinon muttered, "There.... there is no time for us to converse immediately on the morrow. We need to act quickly, and decisively, lest Lord Fanon's allies change their minds. I will have Melimwe draw-up the orders. We will muster on the morrow, and we will part at the rising of the strange stars. We shall leave, by cover of darkness, tomorrow night. I will have Malchon and Thiassel keep close watch over Agarwaenor, fear not. We have lingered here too long, and I suppose that this has been Guldrambor's game all along. So let us rest this final rest, together, this eve, my Gwador... For a long hard road awaits us all..."

Inheroth once again nodded, and drew in a deep sigh. "Very well."
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Ioristion

Chapter CCCXCIX: Children of the High King

The seeds of cruel doubt slowly grew deep within Alcano's fea. He had knelt in a dazed shock before his Lord Father. Ioristion had committed treason against one King, and now, he, Alcano, was the son of another King. Ioristion had been crowned the brilliant High King of the Ainon Cundan. At what cost? Alcano knew it was naught but an empty title. Nothing had changed regarding Ioristion's position in the family, and his family comprised the whole of his so-called "subjects." Who would Ioristion be King over? A bunch of weeping Elf maidens who just might leave their Hroa'r behind out of pure grief, finally, and there were hardly any children anymore. The scant few Elvish lords who had been left behind to guard their Ladies were the lucky ones. Most had marched to war in Eregion, Mirkwood, and now Dorwinion, and most had died. Rostoriel would have been High Queen, but it was not to be. She was dead now, trampled by Mumakil, and they had buried her hroa.

The stars were out that evening. Alcano walked alone, at first, high upon the cliffs above the Halls. The wind was brisk and chilly. His black and red satiny cloak flowed behind him resplendently in starlight and moonlight. His wife had followed him.

"And where do you think you are going?" Lady Celebressel warmly smiled.

"Alone, thinking..." Alcano sighed.

"Oh now, my dear sweet Sapling?"

"Do not call me that," Alcano balked.

"I find it sweet," Celebressel snickered.

Alcano shrugged his shoulders, "I suppose..."

"Come with me," she whispered, smirking.

Alcano could never help that entrancing feeling as he stared at her, her long silvery hair glistening in star and moonlight, flowing behind her, in the wind, atop her vast pale golden satiny cloak lined with deep satiny red. She shined in her silken beauty. Her eyes glowed as if they were one with the stars. He turned and approached her. She spun herself, and her cloak, around him, and embraced him tightly. There they deeply kissed, their hearts throbbing deeply, beneath the moon and stars. He buried himself in her pale, sweet lips, and she in his. Then they deeply kissed each others' pale, cool cheeks, and they buried their faces in each others' silken tresses: silver and fiery rust. The winds rushed around them, whipping their capes vibrantly in their brilliance, as they closed their eyes, and felt each others' heart-beats. Beat-beat. Beat-beat. Beat-beat.

"I love you," Alcano whispered.

"And I you," Celebressel replied. She whipped her folds over both their heads. "My Sapling," she whispered. They deeply kissed anew. They showered each other with kisses. "Are you certain that we shall ne'r be a King or Queen?" She whispered again.

"In time... perhaps..." Alcano whispered in between their kisses.

"A Queen," she suddenly withdrew from his embrace. She outstretched her cape with her arms and spun with the winds. "Come dance with me."

They danced as Macil had danced of old, their capes flying wildly around them as they twirled, as the winds whipped their folds in furies.
Edited by Ioristion, Dec 28 2016, 12:40 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter CCCXCX: A Quiet Fountain

Fareon walked sorrowfully through the vacant corridors in the halls. "Could I have advised my brother more? Would he have listened?" Fareon could not say. Lerinon was ever unwilling to heed his brother's wisdom. As Fareon turned, he came face to face with Fahnraen, startling her. "My pardons, my Lady," he said.

Fahnraen softly smiled. She was shy among those whom she did not know. She was also less serious than her brothers in her demeanor. "Fear not," she said.

Fareon nodded, "And where are you off to?"

Fahnraen blushed, "I....I was just walking.... and thinking...." She smiled shyly.

"You guided us out of Thranduil's Realm most excellently," Fareon smiled.

"T..thank you," Fahnraen blushed again. "I miss the Woodland Realm."

"I...I can imagine," Fareon gently smiled. "I miss... a great many things... and many places... Alas for my Lord High King brother's folly..."

"Folly?" Fahnraen wondered aloud.

"I blame myself," Fareon noted sharply. "I knew my brother would never heed any counsel I might have to offer. He never listens... but I have stood by idly while this Realm has fallen to pieces. So many deaths...... and for what?"

Fahnraen frowned, "I...I do not know what to say...."

Fareon nodded, "A different subject, then. I have had my fill of unpleasantness and grief, believe me."

Fahnraen smiled, "There is a fair garden in these halls, with a fountain. Shall we go there, my...?"

"I am no lord of lands," Fareon tried to laugh, "Fareon will do."

"And Fahnraen for me," she smiled.

"Lead the way, Fahnraen," Fareon nodded.

They passed through several vaulted halls, and they felt the brisk, cool wind rush off their faces, as they passed into the garden beneath the moon and stars.

They sat on a bench by the fountain.

"It is beautiful," Fareon remarked.

Fahnraen nodded, "Yes... yes it is..."

Fareon, in truth, did not know what to say. Seldom had he socialized with Elves outside his family.

Fahnraen slowly inhaled and exhaled, the sweet scent of roses flowing through her lips, and she slowly calmed herself. She listened to the trickling waters of the fountain. Their sound soothed her.

"Do you have any brothers?" Fareon wondered aloud.

"I do...." Fahnraen softly smiled. "Thadulin and Ithreinor... but they are far away...." She had wrestled with that realization throughout the passing weeks. She had left her brothers behind in Mirkwood. "Do they miss me as much as I miss them?" She had often wondered, or more precisely, feared. "Will they search for me? What will they do?" She could not say.

Fareon could see in her eyes that she was deep in thought. "Oh, where are they now?"

"In Mirkwood," Fahnraen sighed.

Fareon nearly kicked himself, thinking, "Oh... what a stupid question... of course they are in the Woodland Realm!" Fareon smiled sheepishly, "Of course. And do you miss them?"

"Thadulin more than..." She paused. "I miss them both."

Fareon nodded, "You must feel so lonely out here.... with naught to do.... now that we have no rivers to travel. Lonely and afraid..."

Fahnraen nodded, "Definitely afraid....... as you have said. I had known, since the alarums were raised by Thranduil, our King, that we were marching to war. But this............."

Fareon nodded and fell silent.

It was then that Fahnraen truly looked at him: at the moonlight making his long, dark, silky hair glisten beneath the stars, how palely and yet vibrantly his golden cloaked gleamed beneath that same light, and how it billowed all around him. She put down her hand and felt the satiny silk. She felt struck then by a soothing, pleasant feeling, that she had never felt before.

Fareon looked down at her hand and smiled, "You feel it... do you not?"

Fahnraen blushed, "Tell me.... Fareon... what am I feeling...."

"Not first love!" Fareon laughed heartily as he guessed at her thoughts. "I feel it too. You have felt the Grace of the Vala Nienna herself.... of Pity..... this cloak, I wear, hails from the West itself....."

Fahnraen heaved a deep sigh of relief. She felt much too young, even still, and too shy, to seek to bond with another.

Fareon gently, slowly, lifted his hand upon that of Fahnraen. She shivered at first, afraid, as a swift, chill wind blew down from the opening in the roof above. She slowly breathed again, in and out, in and out, in and out. Then she remembered the touch.

It was a touch that her brothers had bestowed upon her far more than once or twice: a touch of reassurance.

Fahnraen slowly smiled, "I am cold.... I will admit."

Fareon laughed, "I see you staring at these folds... You are quite shy, you know."

Fahnraen let-out a brief chuckle, and then blushed, "I admit to it....."

Fareon warmly smiled, "So am I, in many ways. Seldom have I spoken to any outside of my household."

Fahnraen slowly stroked the soft, cool, smooth fabric of Fareon's cloak, and then she nodded.

Fareon slowly let her within his folds, as he gently wrapped them around her, he in the manner of a brother, and she in the manner of a sister, and they closed their eyes, letting the Grace of the West flow through them, as they listened to the swift, gentle, trickling waters of the fountain. They gently pecked each others' cheeks and buried their faces in their silken hair.

Edited by Ioristion, Jan 3 2017, 01:02 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter CCCXCXI: Alcano's Dance

As Alcano and Celebressel played in the wind, their dance grew ever vibrant and beauteous. Celebressel covered her mouth with her gold and red cloak, and Alcano did the same with his red and black, before they both unfurled their folds with their arms at once, and then they twirled anew. In time, they grew exhausted, and they returned to their chamber, slowly and fatigued. When they reached their place of rest, they warmly embraced as they rested alongside each other. They burrowed their faces in each others' fiery rust and silver hair. Then they kissed anew as their hearts throbbed. They held each other close with their eyes closed.

Celebressel's voice was soft, and sweet, and gentle, as she whispered: "Our love shall last for Ages."

"Yes," Alcano whispered, "Forevermore..." If Guldrambor does not slay us all...... He had kept his doubts, his fears, and his terrors, well-hidden. The memory of Lord Fanon's death at the hands of Agarwaenor still haunted him.

In time, Alcano and Celebressel fell asleep. But they did not dream together that eve. In the middle of the night, Alcano rolled out of his cloak onto the floor, and he did not yet awaken. Nor had he or Celebressel feel the thump he made when he fell off their place of rest.

Alcano found himself alone in the dark, and in the dark, there were no lights. Only darkness. Only shades and shadows. He felt something surge around him. He beheld the first vision: there stood his wife, her cloak dirty, tattered, and torn, her eyes shedding tears of blood, and her face deeply bruised and smeared and soiled. She tried to cry-out, but no voice came. He reached for her, but the further he reached, the further she was lost to him. He panicked. He turned and ran into the second vision: a party of broken Elves with broken limbs, broken bones, and broken minds, all drenched with blood. Lord Fanon lead them, bald and filled with sorrow, and a dark form arose behind them. The shadow spoke of tears, endless, and of sorrows, unending. Alcano turned and tried to run. He ran into the third vision: his father and mother appeared as if vile wights or wraiths, he could not say, and their visages seemed bony and frail, and they reached to clasp him, and there was a foul stench. Alcano turned again, to see Auruiron, bound, hanging from blood-ridden chains, and broken, and Auruiron's voice mumbled: "Why...? Why...?"

Alcano felt a surge of excruciating pain. Then the shadow spoke: "To save them... ye must surrender thine life... To save them..."

Alcano awoke with a startle and ran. He did not look back at a sleeping Celebressel. He was too afraid to. He had seen her, dead and ruined, and terror filled him to the brim. He rushed through the halls. He felt naked. The artifact was still wrapped in the cloak, and without thinking, he had tucked it under his arms. He rushed up the stairs, and then through the entry-hall, and then up more stairs, up to one of the empty guard overlooks, and he climbed-out, and he rushed onto the cliffs where he and Celebressel had danced, and he ran to the edge, held the artifact tightly to his chest, and leaped. It was a long fall, a long, cold fall, and his Elven reflexes made his feet stand beneath him as he fell, grasping at air. He plummeted into the deep lagoon, salt water burning his eyes, and then he hoped to die. He felt a rip-current grab his ankle. He fought and fought and fought, to wear himself out, to ease his own passing, while all the while clutching the orb closely to his chest, and then the current pulled him under. Then, he surrendered to it, waiting for the waters of the sea to fill his lungs forever, still clutching the orb. What hope is there? They will all die anyway... as all the rest have died... Mother, I am coming home...
Edited by Ioristion, Feb 22 2017, 08:50 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter CCCXCXII: Sainor

The fall did not go unnoted. Across the lagoon, a tall figure leapt into the water even as Alcano's feet broke the waves. The Sapling sank, and his savior dove, seizing Alcano by his tunic and pulling him forcefully upwards. Their faces broke the water's surface.

Alcano coughed and gagged and wretched-up sea-water. His hands were still clutching the orb against the current. He kept it hidden beneath the waves.

"Easy! Easy!" The stranger wrapped his arms around Alcano's shoulder, tipping him on to his back. "I have you. Breathe."

A dark form took-vision in his mind. Bat-shaped, shadowy, with fell eyes as piercing as flames, it stalked him. Alcano felt as if he would close his eyes and drift-off. He kept his eyes open amidst his struggle. The world twirled around him. He wretched-up more sea-water. He struggled to breathe.

The other frowned, drawing them towards the nearest sandbar, into shallower water. "Easy, you are safe now... you did not swallow the entire ocean, I assure you."

Alcano wretched-up one final glob of brine and sea-water. He coughed and coughed and coughed as he stooped-over. Then he could breathe. But the bat-shaped shadow remained lingering in the rear of his mind. "W...who are you.... why... why did you save me..." He looked-down and saw the orb. Quickly, he seized it, wrapping it once more within his cloak. His cloak was dry: for such was its power.

The elf supported Alcano out of the water and on to the sandy shore. He was tall and pale, eyes sharp, and his hair was long... long, and red as flame. "That was a long fall, my young friend, and a dangerous one." His face hardened. "You do your people a great disservice if you think it would be righteous to allow you to drown."

"No... it is hopeless! I tell you! Hopeless! I saw her! I tell you! My beloved wife... I saw her... marred with blood and torn... so torn... so ruined! No, it is over.... my lord-grandfather is doomed... they torture him daily... he will die... and all will come to ruin.... and then.................... he will reign.......... he who torments me... and all whom I hold most dear..... it will never end......... So I ask you again: Why did you save me?" Alcano heaved a deep sigh. "Who are you?"

There was a long moment of silence. "...I see no sign of poison upon you. Are you wounded, young one?" His gaze drifted downwards to the artifact, clutched beneath Alcano's cloak, then back to his face. "You jumped of your own free will." It was a statement, a realization.

"Yes..." Alcano hissed as he caressed the orb. "I jumped. This precious orb... shall reveal to you... the doom of this world..." Alcano laughed, "It was all a fool's journey anyway. My lord-grandfather, Auruiron, spirit-bonded brother of the great Macalaure son of Feanaro. All those long centuries... Ages upon Ages of waiting.... All of Macalaure's former servants who did not cross the sea... staying with Lord Auruiron, Master of the Ainon Cundan, Protector of their little Realm... now Auruiron hangs across this sea, in the accursed city of Sakuta, high upon the cliffs, tortured and awaiting death.... The Sons of Feanaro failed. We are doomed to fail. We all shall fail. What more is there for me than death? The Doom of Mandos fell upon our heads... The Doom fell upon us... we followed Feanaro and now we're doomed... doomed to die a lonely, dusty death... beneath these strange stars... of the East." He seemed to speak of a power not his own, while strange movements and motions were visible on the orb's crystalline surface, motions that would many anyone sane who looked upon it uneasy.

"What... no, I care not." The stranger reached forward suddenly, so swiftly that Alcano could not stop him, and snatched at the orb. It was heavier than he anticipated, and it fell, but his attention was on the elf before him. "Do not speak to me of doom. Doom is meaningless. Life is a stronger gift. "No! No, let it fall!" He shouted, catching hold of Alcano's hand to prevent him from grasping after the orb. "No mere stone is worth a life, be it the most precious jewel ever forged."

"Who are you?" Alcano shook at the shock of losing the orb.

The stranger did not answer. His grip on the younger elf's arm was tight, and his eyes were burning. "Tell me who /you/ are, young one... tell me of the life you have, and then tell me if you still want to throw it away."

"I am the son of a House bereft. The son of Feanorians. Child of doom, I was raised and reared, and taught to hope above all things. But hope betrayed us." Alcano pointed beyond the sea to the east, "Do you know who dwells there? It is Guldrambor, fell and accursed, servant of Morgoth, who reigns over Eastern men. He penetrates minds. He drowns fea'r in false dreams... and swallows them as he now has swallowed..... me! Lord Mandos can keep me in his Doom and in his pleasure.... forever..... It is time for me to die." He felt tempted to leap into the sea again right at that moment.

"So that is it... the Doom of Mandos, and you a Feanorian..." The stranger paused, then straightened sharply. "Very well, then. Die." He lunged forward, seizing Alcano by the shoulders, and suddenly they were crashing back into the chill waters. The ocean floor dropped out from beneath their feet, forcing them to tread water, and then Alcano was set loose, pushed directly into the current. It dragged at him, pulling him out and under, and his head slipped beneath the surface.

Shocked in disbelief, Alcano had only one quick thought: "Fiery hair..." Then the current swallowed him. He felt sea-water gushing back into his lungs. He felt ready. He surrendered to the depths of the sea...

...only to be drawn out by a firm hand. The stranger shouted, but it was a wordless cry. He pulled the younger elf on to the shore once again, rolling him to his side, striking his back to push the water from his lungs. "Answer me again - do you wish to die? Consider carefully! The waves will swallow you. You will fall to Mandos, and there will be no return. So tell me!"

Alcano coughed and gagged again, and as he gazed up into the stranger's eyes: he saw that he was Calaquendi. A Calaquendi with fiery hair. "Nelyafinwe?" He thought to himself. But no. If Nelyafinwe was still around, then it was only as a ghost. "Some other... Exile?" But he saw some resemblance in the stranger's face to that of Macalaure. "Not Amras..." He thought. "Amras fell in Sirion... but Amrod burned at Losgar......... it could not...." His eyes saw with clarity for the first time. He shouted: "Amrod son of Feanaro! I surrender myself to the bitter depths!"
"Or is he?" He had little time to think in the moments that followed.

He was lifted from the shore and plunged back into the water, dragged into the current. "Let the depths have you!"

"Wretched Feanorian! We are doomed... doomed... doom on your account!" He shouted inside himself as the sea-water began to fill his lungs anew.

The water seemed like ice, darker, stronger. It curled around Alcano, pressing against him and dragging him down. No hand came to rescue him.

It all rushed down the marrow of his being at once. His wife and his Lord-Grandfather, doomed to die. His cousins and loved ones. Doomed to die. All the Feanorians who had marched from the West: doomed to die. Feanaro setting the ships ablaze at Losgar, and he and many of his sons, all doomed to die. The water filled his lungs as Morgoth and all his power, Glaurung the Golden and his dragons, Lord Gothmog and all his Balrogs, all the hordes of Orcs and evil Men, all swarmed across Beleriand, crushing the isles of resistance, from Gondolin and Nargothrond all the way to Sirion, and then it hit him: for Guldrambor stood within the marrow of his mind, mocking him, laughing at him, and gazing cruelly, as Feanaro had gazed on the burning ships at Losgar, and the Doom of Mandos poured all the way down his throat: He, Alcano, too, would be a Kinslayer. He would have kin-slain himself. He would burn in the icy depths of the sea as Amrod had nearly burned. He felt a subtle vibration surge through the folds of his cloak. He heard the voice of a Lady, weeping, and then he remembered the Tears of the Vala Nienna. He felt shame, remorse, and dreadful guilt. Then, like Amrod, he turned and fought the flames inside his fe'a, his arms fighting the current, all the way back up to the surface. As he gazed upward, sunlight flickered through the surface, and he reached-up, finally, to grasp the Light. He coughed and gagged and wretched again as he resurfaced.

Strong hands caught hold of him, keeping his face above the water and drawing him once more, gently, towards the shore. "Ai, young one..."

"Amrod... Lord Amrod..." Alcano coughed. "Forgive me.... if you can..... I beg of you................" He turned-over and vomited-out the remainder of the sea-water.

"Breathe... ah, better out than in..." The elder sighed. "Just breathe."

Then Alcano slowed and steadied his breath, once all the sea-water was out of him, and then he crawled further up the shore and away from the sea as fast as he could, till he was further up the slope above it, and able to turn and sit-down. He did so.

The other followed at a slower pace, retrieving a plain blue cloak from the shore and draping it over Alcano's shoulders. "Thou'rt safe now, child. The sea shall not follow thee."

"You are Lord Amrod, are you not?" He wondered aloud. "I know your brother if you are..."

"My name is Sainor." The elf sat next to him. "I am no lord, and I have no brothers."

"But how can this be? You are Calaquendi..." Alcano probed further.
Edited by Ioristion, Feb 22 2017, 10:28 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter CCCXCXIII: To Swim through Dreams

"Am I?" Sainor looked to him sharply. "Well, you are not blind, for all your short-sightedness. Yes, I am. I am one who has seen much. I have been burned, and I have drowned, but still I am here."

"You are Lord Amrod," Alcano tried to smile. "You survived the burning at Losgar... how in all of Arda did you end-up all the way out here? I will call you Sainor, if it so please you. But still: please tell me...."

"For what purpose, Alcano?" Sainor met his eyes. His gaze was piercing, challenging. "I have been burned, and I have been drowned," he repeated. "I am Doomed, and yet here I stand."

"Sainor... your brother! He is alive! Across the mountains to the west! He... he and my Lord-Grandfather... they sang in a Vale protected by the Eldar... next to a surging river... and my Lord Grand-Father... became controlled somehow, by... some greater Power... and it sang, Sainor, it sang.... Macalaure will cross the sea again. There was but one.... matter. We had to face the Shadow first.... we lost many of our brethren, as I have said.... and Auruiron... a captive...." It occurred to Alcano then, in that fateful moment, as sharp as any sword: "He is drowning....."

Sainor listened. If he felt anything at the mention of the son of Feanor, he did not show it. Instead, he leaned forward, nodding. "As you would have."

"Sainor... your House betrayed you..... as I've felt betrayed and..... I do not ask you to come back. You have made your position plain and clear as summer stars..... though you know I would beg and plea for you to come with us... aid us... be great as you once were again.... were it otherwise." He felt the vibration in his cloak again. The thought struck his fe'a as fierce as lightning: "You can.... fight.... alongside me.... Sainor... and we need not leave this isle.... to do it........ I nearly drowned..... our Enemy nearly won....... but you... you saved me....." He stood, rushing back down to the shoreline, and he grabbed the artifact, scooping it in the folds of his cloak, but he did not touch it. He came back. "Let me explain.... to you what this is... and why... I think it nearly doomed me....."

Sainor followed, warily. "What manner of work is that?"

Then Alcano told him of Amanuiron, of the artifact that he had forged and gifted, how Melkor had betrayed him, how he had been one of the lesser foes of the Noldor in the Age of Yore, what had become of all his brothers and his father as he spoke of the Battle under the Stars and of the Kinslayings and of the War of Wrath and of the sundering of Beleriand, and of how the artifact remained, hidden and unused, in Auruiron's possession... how it had been buried in Eregion. He spoke of Celebrimbor, of Sauron, and of the forging of the Great Rings... how the artifact had been buried, how Ioristion and Cellindien had found it again, and then, in brief, he told the tale of their long march. When his tale was nearly done, and he was gasping for breath, he made his meaning plain: "Guldrambor attacked me through this orb... I suspect he had some hand in the nightmare I had witnessed... the dream that made me leap.... But I think that we can fight him, right here, right now, upon this Isle.... if only we could reach Auruiron through this stone. He is drowning..... as I was drowning..... and someone needs to tell him...... that he must swim as I swam......."

Sainor was silent for a long stretch of time, his face unreadable. Then he spoke. "You say 'if' and 'we'. Are you capable of using the stone in that manner? It is a risky thing."

"It is..." Alcano sighed as he admitted it. "But I feel that I have no other choice." The "I" slipped from Alcano's lips with an ease that frightened him. He paused to consider the matter. How could he, who had so recently attempted to doom himself forever, hope to reach his father through so treacherous an artifact? He took a slow, deep, breath, seized the Stone between his hands,

"It may break me again... but I must endure the risk. I know not what inner strength so moves me... but I know that I must not resist."

"You will not break this time." Sainor stepped closer to him, resting a firm hand on his shoulder. "If this is what you must do, then you will find the strength. But do you not think that you should rest first?"

"While it is true that I wish to rest... I fear that I cannot, or I may lose my resolve, or worse. A shadow stalks me, Sainor... a shadow that I must now face for the greater good... I will do it." He sat down, cross-legged, with the Orb nestled safely between his hands. Clutching it tightly, he closed his eyes.

Sainor nodded. "Very well. I will guard you here. Be strong and may the Valar guide you." He bowed his head and knelt behind Alcano, both hands now resting on his shoulders, supporting him.

The perspiration had already begun to form beneath Alcano's brow. Alcano found himself reaching, reaching across a vast dark sea beneath darkened skies, and the further he pushed, the more his strength and will seemed to drain, making the push harder and harder and harder. Ever harder, his mind swam, across the ephemeral deeps, till he spied the golden spires of Sakuta looming in the shadows. The dark cliff loomed beneath the spires. Lightning struck as thunder crashed across the horizon. He saw Auruiron, hanging there, and he pressed himself deeply toward him, till brow touched brow, and soon thereafter, Alcano had penetrated Auruiron's tortured mind. Some Power moved him. He did not have time to ponder the matter. He thought of saying, "Lord Grand-father!" But it came out, "Auruiron! Lord Auruiron!" Alcano found himself in a strange place that he had never seen before. It appeared to be a tower, similar to Minas Noldorion, and yet different. It reminded him of Auruiron's old tales of the older refuge on the slopes of Rerir.

Auruiron was sitting there, shrouded in his gold, and several Elves were sitting by his side, wrapped equally within his folds.

Alcano recognized Macalaure's face. He found himself sitting there among the folds. He looked across. He presumed that he saw Maedhros Nelyafinwe, he saw Caranthir and Celegorm and Curufin, and he saw another fiery-haired Elf sitting by his side. But this Elf was not Sainor. It was Amras. "But where is Sainor?" Alcano wondered within his thoughts. "Where is Amrod?"

Auruiron turned toward Alcano and said, "My Prince Amrod... my dear Prince Amrod... this Song is for you..." Then his hands began to pluck his harp-strings, and a song began to play, and Auruiron began to sing. He was singing of the Burning of the Ships at Losgar.

Alcano felt tears flowing down his cheeks against his will. He could not fight them. He experienced himself weeping as if he, himself, was Sainor Amrod in that moment. Then it hit him. "I... I am Sainor... I... I'm Amrod..." He girded himself. An inner strength rose in its deep wellspring far within him. He declared: "Auruiron! End thine song. Your Prince commands you."

Auruiron's hands ceased plucking the strings. "Commands? I am your High King. I give the commands."

"Has your foe truly deluded you so?" Alcano Amrod replied.

This was entirely new to Auruiron. Throughout his torture, only Guldrambor would dare to question him as an act of torture." Be gone from me, oh torturer!" He shouted. "Leave me to my sorrow."

Alcano smiled, "You think that I am Guldrambor? Nay. I am your Prince. And if you wish to escape the clutches of your foe, you must listen and obey."

"Obedience is for the living," Auruiron coldly replied. "But I am dead."

"It is not so! You know that it is not so!" Alcano Amrod protested. "Now heed my words... my Lord... If you would arouse yourself against your foe, you must swim alone. Your Grandson was nearly lost to you. The one called Alcano. He leaped from the cliffs, and gave himself to the currents, so as to drown. He, like you, believed that defeat was inevitable. But as he drowned, within him grew a deep desire to live. I saved him, one might say, and one might even say that he saved himself. He saved himself because he knew that only he, himself, could save himself. So also must it be with you."

Then a voice that even Alcano was not conscious of began to speak: "The One commands you. He sang to you through the trickling currents of the Bruinen. So also does He sing again. He sings to you. Swim. Swim up. Swim up from the depths of your drowning mind. Swim up and arise anew. Swim that your bonds may shatter."

Then Auruiron wept. He wept. He bitterly wept, and Alcano felt pity arising within his soul. He at once crawled forward, giving Auruiron a deep embrace, and deeply kissing him upon his cheeks, slowly and deeply, and he whispered: "Swim now."

Then, to Alcano Amrod's surprise, the Sons of Feanor joined him, as if in Chorus. "Swim now," they said. "Swim now." Then, in that moment, Auruiron vanished from the dream.

Alcano turned away. The Sons of Feanor were with him, following him. "Star of the West," they proclaimed. "Arise and end the war." Then Macalaure whispered something in Alcano's ear. Maedhros clasped him hard on the shoulder. Celegorm, Caranthir, and Curufin did the same. Then Amras kissed him slowly and deeply upon his cheeks. "Tell my brother," he whispered. "Tell him... that he is free. And you, Alcano, shall be crowned with the fire of our brows."

Then the Sons of Feanor vanished. Alcano heard a dark voice scream-out in the vast distance of the East: "ESCAPED! HOW CANST IT BE SO! ESCAPED! AURUIRON IS ESCAPED!" He saw the shadow of a Great Eagle flying on the dark horizon. Then in the west, he saw a Star, a Star as bright as a Silmaril: the Light of Earendil. Then he felt himself be drawn back west, pulled swiftly away from the dark cliff, from Sakuta, and from all of it. Then he fell backward as the Orb rolled away from his fingers. He fell backward into Sainor.

Sainor caught him, as he became once more aware of the sand, the stars above, and the sound of the waves. His long, fiery hair fell about Alcano's face and shoulders, his own shaking with silent tears.

"S...Sainor," Alcano muttered. "I... I became you... or at least I... think I did." His voice quivered as he spoke. He felt much shaken. "I... think... I'll rest... now..." Alcano tried to smile."S...Sainor," Alcano muttered. "I... I became you... or at least I... think I did." His voice quivered as he spoke. He felt much shaken. "I... think... I'll rest... now..." Alcano tried to smile.

Sainor nodded. He pushed back his hair, then smoothed Alcano's gently. "Yes, young one. Rest."

Then Alcano fell into a slow, deep sleep, a dreamless sleep of peace.

When he awoke, Sainor had vanished.
Edited by Ioristion, Apr 4 2017, 09:49 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter CCCXCXIV: Crowned by Fire

She awoke with a startle. Celebressel looked-around, but she did not see Alcano. She looked-down and saw that his cloak was still around her. Fear gripped her. Alcano had seldom left without his cloak. He never did. Celebressel sighed, "Where are you now..." She did not want to jump to conclusions. She buried her face in Alcano's sweet-scented folds. I will find you.

As she stood and rushed for the door, her capes flapping behind her, it rushed open, and she fell into the firm embrace of Alcano's arms. Alcano seemed different. "Where were you?" She demanded.

"I took a swim," Alcano replied with a smirk. She noticed that his hair seemed longer, particularly the matching warrior braids at each temple, with a longer lock woven into each one and she noticed how vibrant and beautiful his tresses were. His hair flowed down his back, nearly to his waist, all lush and fiery red in silken beauty, and tied back behind him.

Alcano bade her to sit down, and then he recounted everything. Celebressel's eyes were flushed with anger in the beginning, but then her anger slowly subsided, as he told her the rest of all that had occurred. She grabbed the tress and felt it. Can it be? She thought. Amrod Son of Feanor?

"I am the new Amras," Alcano spoke solemnly. "The new Ambarussa. The Ambarussa do not ride alone. Bring forth the chests."

Celebressel reached for both large chests that had been stowed-away beneath their place of rest. Ever since she was a little girl, Celebressel had saved all of her excessive silver hair, that she had cut, since only the Lord and Lady of the Wood could have the longest hair. She had saved it, nonetheless, for a time when she might leave, and crown herself with beauty. Alcano, out of memory of his 'noble ancestor,' had saved all of his fiery hair in a similar manner. At times, he would sleep with several tresses, burying his face within them, pretending that he was resting in Rostor's firm embrace. But now the time for pretending was long since past. Alcano had thought of the idea himself: they would terrify Guldrambor as much as he had terrified them. They would appear to be as if all seven Sons of Feanor had arisen from their graves and from Lord Mandos' Halls, fea'r and hroa'r, rising to put an end to Morgoth's final accursed servant. Macil had not performed such a strange tradition.

They wept and deeply kissed, and the sun had nearly crossed the sky, before they left their chamber. They came to Yucalwe.

Yucalwe smiled, "Will Prince Amrod aid us?"

Alcano shook his head.

Yucalwe sighed, "It is a pity... I should have much liked to have spoken to him..."

"You may yet," Alcano smiled, "You may yet."

"Can he be persuaded?"

Alcano shook his head.

Yucalwe nodded morosely, "Then, your plan shall be best. We will crown our brows with fire, and meet Guldrambor on the field, to whatever end..."

To whatever end....... Alcano felt sick to his stomach as he remembered his nightmare. But then his other dream flooded through his mind. Namarie... brave Sainor... a day may yet come when I'll return...
Edited by Ioristion, Apr 4 2017, 09:49 PM.
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Ioristion

Chapter CCCXCXV: The Final Roster

Lerinon paced alone and meditated on the decision. Melimwe had pressed him for it: the Company would have to be split in two. One would be small, with the Quest of capturing Guldrambor upon their brows, and one would be large, with the task of procuring a diversion. The plans were drawn-up and set into law:

Company Ainon

Ioristion
Saelbainor
Cellindien
Aertira
Salhera
Rirossel
Macil
Macilon



Company Elu

Lerinon
Lerion
Fareon
Fahnraen
Inheroth
Agarwaenor
Hallothanar
Thiassel
Malchon
Malfinseron
Mornbeorn
Findistedis
Alcano
Celebressel
Yucalwe
Eiliant
Aeglossel
Ivordir
Daerfalas
Baralinthor
Abrazan
Glossel
Circhon
Arancir Eldarion
Arancir Edainion
Gwainoth
Naitheg
Raedwyn
Aegon
Isenadin
Sasuko
Sainion
Arhbaineth
Alagoshel
Silevrendor
Fingaereth
Amarthon
Melimwe

The roster was signed, and dated, and sealed with the King's Ring. It was done. So ended their Final March. The War of the Voices had now begun in earnest.
Edited by Ioristion, Mar 15 2017, 08:41 PM.
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