DISCLAIMER/NOTES: Anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien; the rest is my creation. This was written for ALEC’s August theme and won the category of honorable mention. Please leave your thoughts. This piece ties into a series of mine.

The Pains of Friendship

Valinor, the Blessed Realm. Long has it been my home, a haven for the weary. A land of green, peace, and Light; but it has not always been so. Many Ages ago, almost in the beginning, a woeful tragedy occurred. The Noldor, led by their fierce Prince Fëanor, assaulted the Telerin port city of Alqualondë. Intent on avenging his father’s death and retrieving his Silmarilli, Fëanor ordered the massacre of his peace-loving kin in order to gain control of their ships. The terrible Vala, Melkor, had slain his father and ravaged his hallowed Jewels for himself, fleeing across the Sea to Middle-Earth. The ships were wrestled from the Teleri, and the Noldor set sail. Their journey is a story in itself, yet in time they came to the shores that first bore the Awakening. From holy Valinor they were Banned, their Doom wrought upon them by their own actions.

The Teleri were left with the task of seeking hope and answers in the aftermath of the devastation. Their grief and anger grew passively within them throughout the Ages even as their city was rebuilt and new ships were made. Never before this time had an Elf laid a cruel hand on another Elf; the world was young then, as innocent and naïve as a child. The Teleri could not understand the desire of Fëanor, could not grasp the situation fully. And so, wrapped in their sadness and despair, they focused their energy on remembering the tragedy that occurred to them, brooding over their hurts, stoking the notion that their pain was the only pain. Because of this, a number of Teleri developed the idea that only their wounds mattered, that the Elves of Middle-Earth could never answer to the same feelings of anguish and sorrow. Understandably, this was directed mainly at the Noldor, whom they hated, but also at the other Elves of Middle-Earth. For the Teleri who believed in this notion, there was nothing pure about Middle-Earth, only tainted evil. And so they remained in Valinor, the paradise of all the Elves, unaffected by anything other than their past hurts and despair, to which they clung desperately and stubbornly.

I first felt this unconscious hate when I disembarked from my ship, breathing in the pure air of Alqualondë. The cold stares and unspoken thoughts resonated louder than the words spoken and the hands shaken. Not all the Teleri acted such, but there were a few who did. I could only pity them and tried to understand their vantage point when they looked at me. I am not a noble, being of the Laiquendi. We are a simple folk, content with the life of nature and our trees. Even to our kin in Middle-Earth we are a strange and disconnected folk. So I can only imagine what the Teleri think of me, especially the ones who feel they are the only people who have ever suffered.

I find myself bound on a journey with my lord and lady to Mandos. They are Telerin nobles by birth. My lady has learned that her oldest, most beloved daughter has passed from Middle-Earth. The pair did not part on the best of terms, and so my distraught lady hopes to restore some small measure of peace. As we sat around the campfire of the large mountainside cave, I sensed my lord and lady’s weariness and despair. The lady’s old anxieties and guilt return anew, and I feel I am partly responsible for this. She had sought me out, wondering if all who come to Valinor are truly relieved to be here, and I had answered as truthfully as I could that it would depend upon the individual and what experiences they had in their life. My lord is deeply troubled by his wife’s silence. This journey has become unbearable for him, and he regrets his decision to bring his wife to Mandos. His hatred of the Noldor is great, and I find myself pitying his situation. In marrying my lady his connection to the Kin-slaying has become more solid, intensifying the pain and sadness, as her first husband was Caranthir. I felt my lord’s anguish burning deep into his soul, but also the prejudice in his eyes as he regarded me over the dancing orange flames of our campfire. In his mind I am not as refined or learned, though by origin the Laiquendi are Teleri. Our rustic and simple ways seem to him to enforce the notion that we cannot understand pain as grueling as his, that I am unworthy of coming to Valinor.

Yet it is not within my nature to see someone grieving and in such hurt and not attempt to offer assistance. Ever so gently I approached him and at first he resisted, but gradually as he knew my intention he began to relay to me his story, some of which I had known, and parts of which I did not. The scepticism remained in him as he continued to doubt my ability to understand. And in that moment I realized my purpose in Arda–that I would council this man with the pain of my own grief and transcend his prejudice that the Laiquendi–indeed all Elves of Middle-Earth–are not deserving of Valinor’s hallowed graces and peace. Would he accept my offered friendship?

And so I related to him my own story. My people are a tribe of the Nandor. We lived in the great forests of the ancient world of Middle-Earth in the First Age. Our communities were isolated from the other Elves. We prefer the quiet and peace of the trees and nature, a more simple life that we believe the Valar intended the Elves to lead. Our weapons in comparison to our more sophisticated kin were crude, but to us they were adequate. We lived off the forest, taking exactly what we needed to survive, nothing more. We spent much time contemplating spiritual matters, seeking to learn lessons from the creatures around us. We aspired to perfection as all Elves do, for us meaning exact attunement with everything around us. To some our life might seem harsh and rustic, and we may seem quite simple, but appearances can easily deceive.

Our villages, being secluded, were the perfect target for one of Morgoth’s worst deeds. With our basic weapons we could not fend off the attacks as his goblins came into our homes stealing our children and killing everyone else. Those who were captured were taken deep into mountain pits and subjected to unknown methods of torment and pain until the hallowed image of the Elves became perverted into the hideous Orcs. My only son was taken from me while we were on a hunting trip, and after a dangerous and lengthy journey I managed to find him, but by then it was far too late. The pain and anguish I felt when I realized who he was–around the neck was his token bear teeth necklace that would have been worthless to anyone else–cannot be expressed fully in words. To bring your only child into this world is a blessing, but to take him from it without choice is a terrible curse. When I returned home, my wife knew our son was lost, but not how. I never told her, and the distance between us grew. She decided to dissolve the bond that held us and sailed West, in accordance with our traditions, seeking solace from her grief.

I had never told anyone before, and I do not fully understand why I took the great risk in opening up my own heart and sharing with him my pain. He could have easily dismissed it. The Valar’s wisdom interceded, for what other than fate can it be? I do know that the harshness in his eyes softened as he shed silent tears, and the judgment in his tone of voice lessened. He began to realize that his hurt was not the only suffering, that Middle-Earth was much more perilous than he credited. My lord has lived all his life in comfort and peace, other than the Kin-slaying. As for myself, I learned that not all the Eldar ascribe to tradition, there are exceptions to every rule. We still have prejudices against each other, but now the hand of friendship has been extended.