I donÂ’t own anything that you recognise as TolkienÂ’s, so please donÂ’t sue me.

Somewhat longer than the last chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Calmëa thought that she was going to vomit as she staggered back down the path, barely aware of the growing commotion behind her. She could hear shouting and screaming, but ignored the sound, intent on getting back home. If only she could get home, everything would be all right.

The streets were full of people running here and there: Noldor and Teleri alike. Calmëa concentrated on keeping calm, staying in the shadows as the news of what was happening at the Haven spread.

“Calmëa!”

She turned at the sound of her name and a wave of indescribable relief swept over her as she saw Silmë pushing down the street towards her.

“IÂ’ve been looking for you!” he gasped. “Mother said youÂ’d gone down to the Haven…”

She nodded, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat.

Apparently heÂ’d heard the news of what had happened, and could tell from looking at her face that sheÂ’d seen it.

“Sweet stars, Calmëa, I’m sorry…” he whispered, hugging her close. She hugged him back, feeling the hot tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. He was still here. At least he wasn’t the one that she’d seen fall, an arrow in his heart.

She swallowed again as bile rose in her throat.

They stumbled as someone knocked against Silmë, reminding them both of the urgency of the situation. Calmëa became aware that the sound of shouting and screaming from the Haven had grown louder.

“Come on,” said Silmë, taking her hand. “We need to get home. Father says I’m to take you and Mother out of the city.”

“What about him?” asked Calmëa, hurrying along beside her brother.

Silmë didn’t reply, but Calmëa could guess the answer from the look on his face. Their father was at the Haven.
For a moment her mind was again filled with the image of that elf on the arch, falling against his friend, his tunic soaked with blood.

She shook her head hard and hurried on. Her father would not be hurt. He would not be hurt.

Most of the trouble seemed to be confined to the Haven and the main streets, so once theyÂ’d got into the smaller streets leading home the crowd thinned out considerably. There were still people hurrying about, and one of their neighbours called out to them.

“What’s happening? Someone said that Fëanáro had killed Lord Olw녔

Calmëa spun to look at Silmë, who had gone as white as a gull’s wing. Surely not? Theft was one thing, but cold-blooded murder?

As one of Fëanáro’s sons had murdered that elf at the Haven?

Silmë seemed to have frozen, staring mutely at the other elf. At last, he found his tongue and stammered, “I’d not heard that. There’s been a death, but I think Lord Olwë yet lives.”

The elf nodded, looking relieved.

“Where are you two going?” he asked.

“We’re leaving the city,” said Silmë. “I’m taking Mother and Calmëa and we’re going to leave before it gets any worse.”

The elf nodded a little. “Good luck,” he said. “I plan to stay here in the city.”

Silmë nodded. “It’s probably safe enough,” he agreed, “But…”

He glanced at Calmëa and she looked back towards the Haven, biting her lip. All three flinched as the sound of a bell tolling rang out from that direction. Silmë’s hand tightened on Calmëa’s and they shared another glance.

“We should go,” he said.

The other elf nodded and retreated back indoors, while they hurried on to their home.

Alcari was already waiting, putting the finishing touches to three packs of things that were either too useful or too dear to be left. She looked up with a relieved and welcoming smile as they entered, but the smile faded as she looked at them.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Calmëa opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it again. How could she explain? She didn’t think any rumours had reached her mother of what had happened. She gulped, trying to swallow the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat, tried to blink back the sudden burning at the corners of her eyes, and shot a pleading glance at Silmë. He knew what had happened. He could explain.

“What is it?” their mother asked again, looking from one to the other. After a moment more, her hand crept to her mouth, her eyes widening, their gaze empty and fixed. “Oh, Stars, no… not Aquild녔

“No, Father’s all right,” Silmë quickly assured her. “At least, he was when I left him. But someone was killed up on the Arch, trying to persuade the Noldor to leave, and leave without our ships.”

At that, Calmëa’s tears came swift and relentless as the tide on a long, flat beach, and before she knew it she was in her mother’s arms, crying into the bodice of her dress, crying so hard that she could barely draw breath.

“And… and Calmëa saw him fall,” choked Silmë.

It was some time until Calmëa had cried herself to a standstill. Her mother and brother waited patiently, all three of them sitting on a bench, listening to the sounds of growing violence in the city. Alcari kept stroking her hair, trying to reassure her a little. She didn’t know if either of them shed a tear, though certainly neither cried as hard as her. Every time she let herself think back, she remembered seeing that elf die, and more and more his face came to look like her father’s. She didn’t know if it was some sort of horrible foresight or just her own fear, but by the end her tears were those of terror rather than sorrow.

At last, though, she’d cried every tear in her body. Her nose felt swollen, her eyes hurt and both minor discomforts set up a throbbing headache, but she felt a little better, a little more in control. She pulled back to wipe her eyes and blow her nose with a handkerchief that Silmë pressed into her hand. Her mother cupped her chin in one hand, brushing her hair back from her face.

“Are you all right?” she asked.
Calmëa nodded, sniffing a little, and managed a shaky smile.

Her mother hugged her once more, tightly, and said, “I’m so sorry, little one. I wish there was more time, but…”

Calmëa nodded. They had to leave – they’d delayed long enough. Alcari released her and got up, busying herself with the packs again. Silmë gave Calmëa a quick hug and also stood up.

“This one’s yours,” Alcari told him, passing one to him. He quickly shouldered it, adjusting the straps carefully. Calmëa did the same with hers, fiddling with one of the buckles uncertainly. She’d not had to sort out a pack like this before, but Silmë helped her as their mother took up hers. She was vary familiar with packs, but sighed a little as she settled it on her back, murmuring almost to softly for Calmëa to hear, “I never thought I’d have to do this again.”

She was the last to leave the house, pulling the door to and caressing the wood fondly.

“We’ll come back, won’t we, Mother?” asked Silmë, fiddling uncertainly with one of his shoulder-straps.

Calmëa thought that Alcari hesitated a little too long before smiling and saying, “Of course we will, and soon.”

Then they hurried off down the street, away from their home, heading for the nearest gate out of the city.

The nearest gate was one of the minor ones, so Calmëa hoped that they’d not meet any trouble on the way, but they soon found out that the minor streets were clogged with other Teleri, either trying to leave as Calmëa and her family were or looking for loved ones amid the turmoil or making their way down to the Haven to help in whatever was now happening there. The air was full of the sounds of feet running and voices shouting; the cries of frightened children, woken suddenly from sleep; and the smell of smoke.

“Stay with me, both of you,” said Alcari, her voice calm. “We’ll get out easily enough.”

Calmëa nodded and squeezed Silmë’s hand, but couldn’t suppress her cry of fear and shock as they rounded a corner onto a ridge at the top of the hill, from which they could see both the Haven and the field in front of the city.

Another host was picking its way across the field by torchlight, just as Fëanáro had come a little while before.
The battle had spread from the Arch and much of the waterfront was in flames. The fires bathed the battle for the ships in a livid, leaping light, making it look like some sort of feverish nightmare. Calmëa could see elves, some armed with bows, some with swords, battling from rooftops, on jetties, on the decks of ships.

With an effort, she heeded Silmë’s tugging on her hand and tore her eyes away, hurrying with them through the crowds.

She glanced at Silmë’s face and saw that he looked very pale, his eyes distant. He didn’t return the look, but kept looking ahead, keeping his eyes fixed on their mother’s back as she led the way.

As the streets got more crowded, it became harder to stick together and eventually Alcari paused at the side of a street, in a doorway out of the way.

“We’ll go in single file,” she said. “Calmëa, you stay behind me and kept your hand on my pack. Silmë, you stay behind her.”

They nodded. She looked from one to the other with a sigh and gave them each a one-armed hug.

“It’s going to be all right,” she said softly into their ears.

Calmëa remembered the nightmarish battle she’d seen and asked, “Do you think Father will be all right?”

Alcari also looked back towards the Haven for a moment, but then looked back at Calmëa with a smile and the assurance, “He’ll be fine.”

Calmëa clung to those words as she stepped into her place behind her mother, one hand on her pack, felt Silmë’s hand on her, and they set off again. Her father would be fine. Nothing bad was going to happen to him. He’d be fine.

They were almost there, only a few more streets to push along, when Calmëa suddenly thought that her pack felt a little lighter. After a moment, she realised why: Silmë’s hand no longer rested on it. Instinctively, she twisted to look around for him, but couldn’t see him in the crowd.

“Silmë?” she called.

“Calmëa, what is it?” asked her mother, also turning. Her eyes widened as she also saw that they’d lost Silmë.

“Silmë!” she shouted.

Silmë’s silver hair should have been easy to spot, but there were many Teleri with that colouring and try as she might, stretching up on her toes and staring all around, Calmëa couldn’t see him.

“How long has he been missing?” asked Alcari, turning worried eyes back to Calmëa.

“Only a little while. I just noticed he wasn’t holding my pack any more,” Calmëa responded, biting her lip. Oh, stars, she couldn’t lose Silmë too.

No, no, none of that, her father would be all right. She had to believe that.

“Go on without me,” said Alcari, breaking into Calmëa’s thoughts. “I’ll go and find him.”

“But…” Calmëa wasn’t sure what she wanted to say in protest. She didn’t want to go back into the city, but she also didn’t want her mother to leave her side and she didn’t want to stay here and wait for Silmë to find them again, and she certainly didn’t want to abandon him. Unable to decide, she didn’t say anything. Her mother smiled encouragingly at her and gave her a little push towards the gate.

After a moment’s more hesitation, sniffing back tears of anguish, Calmëa turned and ran.

She continued to push her way through the crowd, determined to get out of the city, trying not to think of the idea that she might at the end of tonight – or was it today? Without the Trees, she couldn’t keep track – be the only one left.

Lord Námo would take care of them, but Calmëa didn’t want to be alone until they’d been reborn and grown to remember who she was.

She choked back a fresh storm of tears and turned another corner. Ah! There was the gate! It was closed, but it had no locks – why would it? Until now, there had been nothing to threaten the city. She’d be able to get out easily enough. In fact, she was surprised that it was still closed – had no-one else sought to leave this way? No-one seemed to be trying now, at any rate. The square around the gate was empty. Hitching up her pack, she ran across the empty space, towards the gate.

“Hie!” called someone. She spun round and saw an elf of Lord Olwë’s household hurrying towards her. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Come away!”

“I’m trying to get out of the city,” she explained. “This is the closest gate to my home.”

He shook his head. “This gate has to stay closed,” he said, reaching out to take her arm. “Come, I’ll get you somewhere safe.”

“But why?” she asked. “Why can’t I leave here? My father said we were to get out of the city until this was all over!”

He never got a chance to reply. At that moment, someone struck the gate hard, making it rattle.

“Open this gate, in the name of Nolofinwë!” a voice shouted from the other side.

Both Teleri stared at the gate, standing totally still.

The Noldo on the other side beat upon the gate again. “Open this gate!” he repeated.

The other elf shook his head hard. “Come on,” he said, taking Calmëa’s hand and pulling her away. This time, she was only to happy to follow.

They made it into one of the side streets before the gate was thrown open and armed Noldor in the blue and silver of Nolofinwë poured through.