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| TurinTurimbar |
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| Erumelmo |
 RE: Conquering Helcaraxë (KEEP)
on: May 06, 2007 11:14
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Nolofinwë was tall. His eyes were a brilliant blue and seemed to give out the only light untainted by the surrounding gloom. His dark hair mingled with the surrounding dark, but his face shone. The determination in his eyes passed onto the High Elves standing before him: princes and princesses they were, his sons and nephews and nieces. All of them deceived by Fëanáro.
His gaze scanned each one. There stood his sons, Findekáno, Turukáno and Arakáno, his daughter, Irissë, and his daughter by marriage, Elenwë. There were the sons of Arafinwë, he who had returned to the halls of the Valar: Findaráto, Aikanár, Angarato, and his consort, Eldalôtë, and finally, Aranfinwë’s only daughter, Artanis. Beside her, stood the grand children of Ingwion: Erumelmo and Elnaira.
Erumelmo was like a son to him as Findekáno loved him like a brother. Erumelmo would often be found in his childhood, running around the House of Finwë. His oldest son had developed a fondness for Erumelmo, ever since the latter was a decade old. Nolofinwë narrowed his eyes as he noticed someone’s absence. “Erumelmo, tell me, where is your brother?”
“He rests, High King. He was wounded at Alqualondë.” Erumelmo explained.
Nolofinwë raised his head a notch and his stare grew intense. Something flittered across the blue. Was it trepidation? “He will need it, Erumelmo.” His glance then scanned the others. “We all shall need it before the end. The journey we embark on will be hazardous. I shall not lie. There shall be those who will not make it to the end.” His gaze stopped at Angarato for a brief moment before moving on to Elnaira. “Let this be the place where you decide your own fate, my kin. Let this place be where you decide to take on a path which could – nay, would – lead to bereavement, or head back to where you shall still be forgiven and accepted. The choice is yours.”
He paused and none of the Elves standing before him blinked. Moments passed and the snow fell silently between them.
“So be it.” He said, breaking the silence around him. “You have chosen to follow me across the Helcaraxë and into the land of Middle-Earth, in pursuit of Fëanáro and the Enemy. What fate has in store for each of you,” he looked out at the swarming elves falling back towards the mountains, “I cannot tell. You are now the Noldor, those with knowledge. Use it not sparingly.”
* * *
Erumelmo and his sister had returned to gather their possession. The air now was biting. It seemed as though it were the teeth of some wounded animal lashing out in retaliation against some unseen menace.
“It is a warning.” Erumelmo whispered against the wind.
“A warning that, by need, must not be observed.” Elerossë stated. Erumelmo turned in surprise and quickly grabbed hold of his younger brother’s arm to steady him. Elerossë had walked a few paces to come and meet his brother and the exertion had already caused his face to pale – he was the colour of the snow that raged around them.
“You need to conserve your strength! For all your words of wisdom, you conduct yourself without good sense.” Erumelmo reprimanded, albeit gently.
“Hence,” Elerossë said with a smile, and wide eyes, “Artanis calls you Nolomelmo and not me.”
“Domdol,” Erumelmo muttered, taking most of Elerossë’s weight onto his right shoulder. Elerossë’s smile widened into a grin.
“Elerossë Manarnéca!” Elnaira had come upon them. Her form whipped around to stand in front of both of them. “You are not fit to walk around –” Elnaira paused; she realized what she was saying, hastily, she amended, “needlessly!”
Elerossë’s face did not lose the smile. He looked at Erumelmo. “Onóro, our sister is just as wise as you are, ‘twould seem.” Then he looked at Elnaira fuming before him. “Needless would be the path we take in a matter of instants, but as providence decrees, the needless now becomes the needful and the needful is rendered useless.”
Elnaira opened her mouth to speak, but she could not find words with which to refute his. She gave up with a sigh. Walking toward the other side of Elerossë, she lent her own support, until they came to where their belongings lay. They had their meagre possessions tucked into two large cloaks. Elnaira had managed to find some sea weed which had drifted across the rocky shore; she knew it was edible. She made sure that word spread around regarding it. Within no time, the coast of Northern Araman was picked clean of each strand of the marooned weed. Supply of food would not be a problem.
The sea to the southern side of Helcaraxë would provide them with food. Or at the very least, Elnaira thought, if there were no fish to be caught because of the ice, they would be able to suffice on the flesh of the animals that the males would hunt down if the need for food became grave. She remembered Yavanna Kementári mention large, semi-aquatic animals living in the northern reaches of the world, the Odobenii. They would have to pursue these for food. Elnaira shuddered. She did not like the idea of killing animals for food. She had stocked a supply of Lembas, but the journey was long – too long now it seemed to her – and there would come a time when food would be sparse. But hunting and killing?
Suddenly, memory of the blood soaking into the earth at Alqualondë filled her vision. She gagged and her hand flew to her throat. She looked up into the skies. Dark, they were, like congealed blood. She squeezed her eyes shut. What had she done? Remorse cascaded over her, nearly strangling her. Then she remembered Fanuiamarth and her eyes dropped to the eastern horizon. Where was he? How did he fare? She knew he wanted to get back to them. She could feel it as she could feel the cold on the bare skin of her face.
She hoped he would not turn thoughtless in his anger. Her hand gripped her throat tighter as she remembered his last words. He had promised them he would return. But the swan ships had been burnt. He would not be able to keep his promise. He had vowed that, if he would not – could not – return, his body would perish. Tears slid down her cheeks heedlessly. They turned into ice and froze to her skin.
Fanui, she thought. Ai, Fanui.
The sound of Erumelmo putting on his armour brought Elnaira back to the present. She plucked the ice from her face and let it fall into the wind.
* * *
Erumelmo chose to wear his armour. It was made of a fusing between rough bark and leather and covered his chest, shoulders and forearms. He carried Elerossë’s on his back. He bent to pick up Zarussë, but Elerossë extended his hand. “I will carry my sword, Mel.” Elerossë stated firmly. “That much I will do.”
Erumelmo handed the sword to his brother without hesitation. “We are to first assemble at the shore and then divide unto the chosen leaders.” He explained to Elerossë. “Rossë shall be with me, Elnaira.”
Elnaira stopped, compelling her brothers to stop as well. She bit her lip. “I still do not approve of the High King’s strategy.”
“Nolofinwë has given the task of organization to Artanis and Findekáno, and they mean for the hosts to be flanked by members from the High Houses. They are right.” Erumelmo said quietly. “It concerns me that you will be away from my sight, but reliability falls to our house as well, since we are related to Ingwë. You know this. Your guidance will be essential, since I manage the reins to the right while you manage the left. And by way of mean strength, it is I who shall be able to bear Elerossë. But I have spoken to Nolofinwë concerning you being alone and he means to send help.”
Elerossë groaned. “I find my state insufferable. Though doubt not that I shall be able to walk for a league without assistance.”
Erumelmo smiled. “Aye. I do not doubt that.” He placated. “But you shall have my service nonetheless.”
They resumed their pace. From the corner of his eye, he noticed someone approaching and he turned his head. It was Rilnen and with her came another slender elf.
“Hello friends, we meet again. This is my older sister.” Rilnen said as she gestured to the other lady.
“I am Mithwen, of the house of Meresaro.” Mithwen said bowing her head slightly.
They greeted her in soft tones. Erumelmo noticed the haunted look in Mithwen’s eyes; but he was quickly getting accustomed to seeing anguish in his kin’s eyes. Another elf fell back from the ones walking ahead towards the shore.
He spoke to Mithwen. “Mithwen, why don’t you come ahead with me? I have need to speak with you.” And she walked ahead with him.
Once they had left Rilnen lost her smile, she stared sadly after her sister. “My poor sister. She has had so much pain. She was engaged to be married, but the elf chose to follow Fëanaro and leave her behind. It hurt her so much, but she said their engagement was broken before he left with Fëanáro.” Rilnen said in a quiet voice. Then she blushed, she had just been talking on, sometimes she did that. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you have had great pain of your own. Forgive me but sometimes my tongue goes on without me thinking.” Rilnen said.
“Who is that, Lady Rilnen?” Elerossë asked.
“The power that Fëanáro has over those who follow him is mighty.” Erumelmo testified, more to himself than to Rilnen. “They lose sight of what is right, and forget bonds of love due to his words that are mere breaths of air. They follow a thought of what they believe to be ideal – but in point of fact, they follow one man’s obsession with material objects made out of his pride and vanity.”
Elnaira gave Erumelmo a quick glance. She knew he was thinking of Fanuiamarth as he spoke. She turned her head to Rilnen. “Do not express regret for your pain. Explaining your pain does not make less the pain of others. You will find your courage, Rilnen, before the end.”
“We will get out of here alive.” Rilnen assured herself. But for some reason she was not assured.
“Aye,” Elerossë smiled. “That we will.”
* * *
Nolofinwë had addressed the horde of Elves that had collected at the edge of the now stormy sea. His voice carried over the expanse of the throng. He explained to them where they were being led.
“Our journey leads us north and then by means of Helcaraxë to the east. There we come upon those that deceived us. There we go to battle against the Enemy, Morgoth Bauglir! Do you follow me, Elves of the Noldor?”
“We follow, High King.” The Elves roared back as one.
* * *
“Aiya, Lord Erumelmo.”
Hearing the voice, Erumelmo turned and looked upon a very tall elf, standing a pace behind him to his left. His dark eyebrows rose in question.
"I am Taurohtar Hehta. I have been sent by Nolofinwë himself to serve you. What is your command?"
Erumelmo narrowed his eyes; he recalled the name of Taurohtar. When Erumelmo learned the craft of molding metal into form, under the stern guidance of Aulë, broken swords would be sent in regularly for Artanis and him to go through their instruction better.
After Melkor had been released from the Halls of Mandos, it had been Oromë who instructed the Elves to begin carrying weapons in Valinor. Their armour had been created not from metal, but from the fallen barks of trees and animal hide. Some armour, like Elerossë’s, was created entirely out of fish scales.
Therefore, the making of swords, spears, bows and arrows was not unfamiliar to Artanis; but Erumelmo had taken a keen interest in their creation. It was from his time spent near the armour furnaces of Mahtan’s house that he recollected talk of a tall elf. He remembered one of the other elves smile and remark that most things in Taurohtar’s hands would succumb to rupture. The elf was known for his prodigious strength and peculiar love for swords and swordsmanship. He smiled inwardly recalling the memory, but quick as lightning, the smile died, since he remembered Aulë.
Now he looked directly into Taurohtar’s green eyes. He looked in them for several moments, judging the inner strength behind the outer. He sensed compassion in those eyes, side-by-side with great valour. “I take your service gladly and willingly, Taurohtar Hehta,” he nodded his consent. “If Nolofinwë sends you, you are worthy; and you are aware of the design of his mind: he means to cross the Helcaraxë in pursuit of the one who has betrayed us all. This great host divides itself into three. The former moves with King Nolofinwë, the latter follow Princes Findaráto and Turukáno, and Princess Artanis comes as the leader of the core, with Princess Elnaira, Prince Elerossë and I.”
Erumelmo turned to the sea, his gaze fell far against the falling snow and the rising dark, and then abruptly he turned to the north of the world. “That route,” he said gratingly, “leads to the icy channel which becomes our bridge. I shall man the right side of the column with my brother; I want you to guard the left. The road is perilous, pay careful heed to unseen breaks within the ice. Correct the others against sudden shifts of the upper layers due to turmoil in the sea beneath. Be constantly wary, and consistent in your attention. Look yonder, Taurohtar,” Erumelmo glanced in the same direction. Elnaira stood there, supporting Elerossë. “That is my sister, Elnaira, and that is my brother, Elerossë. The only kin left to me here at the very edge of our world. You have her in your charge, as the rest of the Noldor that fall to the mid-western side. Protect them well, Hallaquendë.”
Erumelmo bent down and unwrapped a cloth bundle, in it were two horns designed from a silvery metal. He handed one to Taurohtar. The horn was light, though it curved to a size of an elven lady’s forearm. “These are the Horns of Nessa and they were made by the Lady Artanis. There are seven others, given to the leaders and guards of the multitude. And one I give to you – it belongs to my brother, he is unfit to keep watch over and defend our people now. These are meant for the guards of the host, amongst whom you are, at this moment, one. Each time we break for a hunt for food, these shall help us gather together. Needless to say, a torrent of notes sent out would indicate a dire need for help and an onslaught of threat to our host. The other belongs to me.”
[Domdol – dim head
Odobenii – taken from Odobenus rosmarus – the mammal, Walrus
Hallaquendë – tall elf]
[Edited on 8/5/2007 by Rish]
[Edited on 29/11/2007 by Erumelmo]
"Why? Because I'm afraid and he gives me courage."
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| TurinTurimbar |
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| Erumelmo |
RE: Conquering Helcaraxë (KEEP)
on: May 17, 2007 12:12
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Erumelmo looked up as Taurohtar spoke.
"I'm right here. You miss me that much?" Taurohtar said, then planted the butt of his spear into the ground and leaned upon it looking at the two elves before him.
Erumelmo’s eyebrows lifted slightly at the impertinent question. Only Elerossë had ever spoken to him in joke before. Looking at the tall elf leaning nonchalantly on his spear, his lips twitched and a corner lifted into a half-smile. “I would have missed the help you promised to give, aye.” He answered quietly. His eyes fell on Rauron, then turned to the south. “Come, we have a long walk ahead of us and a great deal of questioning to do.”
As the pace quickened, Rauron whispered, "Erumelmo, do you think this is physically possible for us to make it, all of us?" This was the first time he had doubted the expedition.
Erumelmo turned his gaze on him sharply.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be doubting like this. Forgive me." Rauron said.
Erumelmo stopped and in turn, both the elves beside him stopped as well. “We make no promises for what is yet to come.” He stated firmly. “I cannot; for chance has a greater hand to play in all of this. But more than that, it would be our choices that govern who we are and what we make of ourselves. I am Erumelmo Oropherion. I am a descendant of Ingwë Ingweron.”
On seeing Taurohtar’s eyes widen, Erumelmo smiled. “My siblings and I get our dark colouring from my father – he is Noldo. Our mother is Isilwen Míriel, the daughter of Ingwion, whom you must know as Ingwë’s son. My parents were resolute in belief that we should remain in Aman. They have forsaken Fanuiamarth for the path that he chose. But Elnaira would not let our brother go – she intended to bring him back from Alqualondë.
“But it was not meant to be. When she asked to follow our brother, my mother was heart broken. But my father understood. He said to us, ‘Your destiny lies in your choices, follow your brother or remain here. Each choice will create its own destiny – be it for fortune or doom. I shall not begrudge you your destiny.’
“It was Fanuiamarth’s choice to follow Fëanáro. It was my choice that I follow my brother and my dearest friend. I do not blame Fëanáro for this – it is too unchallenging to allot blame to another for one’s own choices. I will not and I cannot. Fanuiamarth chose his path. He is not of age yet – but he is old enough to realise the consequences of his actions. As am I.” Erumelmo’s stare intensified as he looked at the two neri before him. “My purpose in telling you my history is this: Whatever be the destiny ahead of you, doubt not the decisions you make in the present. For now, they are right. ”
He turned about, his cloak catching the wind and whipping out behind him, and walked on to the south.
* * *
Rilnen walked over to where Elnaira was. "I was just coming over to see if you needed any help with Elerossë, and I was wondering if you think it would be alright to check his bandages, see if I need to change them." Rilnen said.
Elnaira had just checked Elerossë’s wound, but she thought it prudent to take more proficient help whenever offered. She smiled and stepped aside.
Elerossë greeted Rilnen with a smile. “For all the attention you ladies bestow on me, ‘twould seem like I, amongst the hundreds gathered here in Araman, was the only one to suffer from a wound.”
Elnaira scoffed. “Heed him not, Rilnen. He would have us believe that the wound hurts him none. But I am well aware of his unguarded grunts of pain when he is asleep.”
Elerossë’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “Ai, I must now guard myself in sleep as well.”
“Ah-hah!” Elnaira smiled and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “So you do guard yourself when awake. See?” She turned her gaze on Rilnen. “He would tell us a falsehood about his condition. Is your brother the same?”
Elerossë’s face turned mulish. “I do not tell falsehoods!”
“Not mentioning your pain when asked about it is just the same as saying it exists not.”
Elerossë set his jaw and did not argue. A few moments passed. Rilnen examined the wound. Elerossë looked around. Elnaira made final adjustments to their belongings in order to carry them easily.
She looked at Rilnen. “Rilnen, Erumelmo has asked me to help you if need be. If you need any assistance, pray, tell me without giving it a second thought. I would also that you and your sister come with me as I set out to meet Lady Artanis. What say you?” Then she looked back at the group from where Rilnen had come and added, “But if you already have the company and do not need more, do let me know.” She smiled. “I shall understand.”
* * *
Within an hour’s walk, Erumelmo and the other two elves had met innumerable elves who wished to walk under the leadership of Artanis, her brothers and Erumelmo. Some believed that the centre of the host would be safer than the lead or the end.
Erumelmo had sent Rauron and Taurohtar in different directions, in order that the word spread faster. He finished speaking with three elves he knew from his learning of metal work, but as he turned to go, one of them asked, “My prince, heard you of the House of Calascon?”
Erumelmo stopped. His eyes narrowed. “Calascon? Aye. They sailed with Fëanáro.”
“Nay,” the blond elf said quietly. “They have left behind their youngest.”
“Hendalacon?”
“Aye. He was wounded and they thought him dead. He asked me if I knew of any here who hail from the House of Aleaningwë.”
“Where is he?”
“Yonder, near the dome shaped rock, close to the sea.”
Hendalacon of the House of Calascon. Fanuiamarth’s friend. They had set out together with Morifinwë. Erumelmo walked with great strides towards the rock, his friend had pointed out. Rounding it, he came face to face with Hendalacon.
“Erumelmo.” Hendalacon greeted. He was one of the strains of big-made elves, like Angarato and Taurohtar. Not as tall mayhap, but wider in chest and probably just as strong. His tunic was torn at the shoulder and bloody. He had ripped out material from the hem of his cloak to serve as a bandage. “It’s just a cut,” he said as he noticed Erumelmo surmising the extent of the wound.
Erumelmo did not particularly like Hendalacon. Mostly because the younger elf had no care for the feelings of others, nor did he show any remorse for any hurt he had caused – and Erumelmo knew there had been a lot of that for which Hendalacon was accountable for.
“How did this come about?”
Hendalacon’s light grey eyes narrowed. “A Telerin’s sword came to me from my flank – if I had not turned, the sword would have sliced through my neck. Needless to say, the ship-builder paid. But not before rendering me unconscious.” He sat up straight and flexed his left arm. “The cold seems to aggravate it.”
“Is this the first time you have been cut?” It had been the first for a lot of Elves.
Hendalacon sneered. “Surely you jest, Turcaindo. I have scars that say otherwise. You know how I dote upon Alarcafairë.” He straightened his knees and Erumelmo saw that his sword was lying unsheathed upon his lap. It glinted with a crimson streak under the dark twilight sky. “I have used it before – though not as intently as I did at Aqualondë.”
Erumelmo’s eyes lifted back to pierce Hendalacon’s gaze. “I have not given you leave to use my amilessë, Hendalacon.”
The younger elf’s lip curled in a half-smile. “I shall remember in the future. I am not particularly keen on being familiar – since you are related to one of those I thought were friends.”
“If memory serves me accurately, Fanuiamarth was willing to leave Valimar on your insistence as well as Morifinwë’s … he would not leave a friend on whose resolve he placed so much consequence. Per chance he thought you were dead; or just did not see you fall. Fëanáro raided many a swan ship, Fanui must have considered you to be on one of them.”
Hendalacon stood up effortlessly, taking his sword in his left hand. The wound clearly did not bother him much. His eyes were dark, like a rain cloud with no lightning set within. “You defend your brother well, my lord prince. As you say, Fanuiamarth was your kin, but how quick his intelligence and love for you could be replaced by feral objective and thirst for battle! If he could turn away from his family on the word of a friend, could he not turn on me for the sake of ambition?”
Erumelmo’s eyes glinted. The only indication that Hendalacon’s words affected him. “Choose your words against the ones I love carefully, Hendalacon.” He took a step closer to the younger neri. “I do not defend my brother - I know him. He is young and easily led astray by glib words and false promises. But he would not leave behind a member of his family who he knows is helpless – or a friend. And how would you defend the ones who are kin to you. I do not see any of your brothers here. Have they not also taken you for dead or think you on another ship apart from they or do you believe the same of them as you do of my brother?”
A muscle ticked in Hendalacon’s jaw. His sword lifted slightly, after a moment’s pause, its tip lowered to the snow covered ground. "All that was left of my kin returned with Arafinwë! As for all your wisdom, my prince, you are blind when it comes to assessing those you love.”
“The nature of love is such, Hendalacon.”
“Then ‘tis a blessing I suffer not from the likes of it.”
“Nay,” Erumelmo stepped back and turned away. “’Tis a pity.” He threw back over his shoulder.
* * *
Perturbed by his meeting with Hendalacon, Erumelmo decided to wait for a while near the tempestuous sea. The waves crashed against the Enchanted Isles, sending columns of white foam against the darkened skies. The sea towards land was considerably calmer, as the Isles protected the shores from the sea’s onslaught. He shut his eyes and felt the spray hit his face at random intervals. The spume was utterly cold, but he did not mind.
Thoughts of Fanuiamarth besieged his mind. Melkor’s poison had not only consumed Fëanáro’s mind, but through him such wanton madness spread into the hearts of each elven family. Hendalacon’s words tore threw Erumelmo’s mind – but they did not reach his heart. In his heart, he believed that Fanuiamarth could not leave behind ones he loved to die.
In the far distance, where they had not long ago seen the dark sky turn red, he tried to search for an essence of his brother. What had happened? Why were the ships burnt? Fanuiamarth had promised them that he would return with a ship that would bear them hence. Erumelmo knew the burden of deceit was Fëanáro’s and his alone to bear. But his mind and heart were both wedged in worry for his youngest brother.
Before Fanuiamarth had left on one of Fëanáro’s ships. He remembered that night well. How could he not?
From Alqualondë, Fëanáro had taken the ships and set sail toward the north. The margins of the Enchanted Isles forced him to take the ships north before making sail for Middle-Earth. Fëanáro had to make one last halt at Araman, to meet with Fingolfin’s host that walked on the eastern borders of Valinor.
Elnaira and Erumelmo had been amongst those who marched out with Nolofinwë, Findekáno and Artanis to meet with Fëanáro’s company. They had met Fanuiamarth on these very shores.
His gaze glazed over as his mind went back into the past.
“Fëanáro has decided to split the numbers and carry each via a separate journey. He sails to the east first with the Noldor who followed him out of Tirion.” Fanuiamarth said.
Elnaira gasped. Erumelmo’s eyes widened. Artanis’ expression did not change. Findekáno was more vocal. “By the teeth of the hounds of Oromë! Who decides this? Has my father heard of this?”
“Aye,” Fanuiamarth affirmed. “He has agreed.”
“His oath to Fëanáro has led him to misguided clemency!” He gave Fanuiamarth an irritated glare and stormed off into the crowd of Elves.
“Fëanáro sails first?” Artanis questioned.
“Aye.”
“He will not return.” Her tone did not change. It was matter-of-fact.
Elnaira’s wide eyes turned from Artanis to Fanuiamarth, standing with his back to the sea. He was in silhouette, his face looked dark and morose, but, Elnaira thought, that was just the lack of light. Light had fled from the shores of the Undying Lands and Elnaira felt wounded. She stifled a painful gasp by holding her right fist to her mouth.
Fanuiamarth stepped forward, his jaw twitching. “I will go with him and I will return with a ship in such an eventuality. It is your hate for him that makes you think the worst of Fëanáro, my lady! Though there shall not be such an eventuality! If you think thus of him, why did you not return with your father?”
“I hope what I say does not come to be true, Fanuiamarth.” Artanis stepped forward until she was a pace away from the young elf. “But I know Fëanáro, I do not hate him. I know not the intricacies of his mind, nor do I need to; to suffer its darkness is enough. I shall tell you this: he is now capable of great deceit – his mind is embittered by Morgoth’s lies. And it is to protect my people from such falseness that I journey still with them, as does Nolofinwë – as do your brothers and sister.” She gave him one last appraising stare and then left the same way as Findekáno.
Erumelmo stepped forward. “Take Elerossë with you.”
“I cannot. Fëanáro means to take only the ones who had traveled with him to the shores of Alqualondë. The ones who came with Nolofinwë must travel with Nolofinwë.”
Erumelmo’s mouth dropped open. He stepped aside and his right hand pointed at Elerossë. “He bled for you, Fanuiamarth. You will make recompense for it.”
“I did not ask him to come!” Fanuiamarth reiterated in the same tone as his elder brother’s.
Erumelmo stepped back in shock. Elnaira came between them. Her eyes flashed with anger. “Fanui, he is hurt. He is our brother.”
Fanuiamarth’s eyes softened, then grew haunted. “Do you not think I want to take him across safe? But I cannot. Fëanáro will not consent to it.” He looked at Elerossë and Erumelmo. “I swear I shall return for you – if I do not, may this body find a swift end in Middle-Earth!” He dropped to his knees in front of Erumelmo.
“Ai!” Erumelmo cried, and held his forehead in his right hand. Elnaira looked stricken. As the younger elf knelt beside him, the older brother put his left hand onto Fanuiamarth’s head and Elnaira looked on, tears falling freely.
“Your eyes falter,” Findekáno’s voice jolted Erumelmo back to the present. “Of what do you think with so grave an expression?” His puzzled frown clearing suddenly, Findekáno came to stand before his dearest friend. “Fanuiamarth’s fate is out of your hands now, Turcaindo.”
“I think of how he left behind Elerossë.” Erumelmo’s voice was thick.
“He had no choice.”
“There is always a choice, Findekáno.”
Findekáno placed both hands on Erumelmo’s shoulders. “Be reasonable, meldaman. Fëanáro would have had both of them killed if Fanuiamarth disobeyed his will.”
He could have just stayed back with us, Erumelmo thought. But he did not voice it aloud. It was an inane thought. If that had happened they would not be here at all. Erumelmo’s thoughts cleared and he smiled. “You always brighten my heart, Fin.”
Findekáno smiled in return. “Come, this is one of my right guards.” For the first time, Erumelmo noticed an elf standing a pace away. He was shorter than Erumelmo and had darker skin than what a Vanyar or Noldo would have. But his eyes were crystal clear, made all the more arresting by his golden skin tone. His hair was the colour of the midnight sky and hung past his waist. He surely had Telerin blood. “His name,” Findekáno continued, “is Túrë Ornélion.”
Túrë smiled in greeting. “My lord,” he dipped his head.
“He is King Olwë’s grandson. Son to Ornélion, Olwë’s last son, and he comes to be Lady Eärwen’s youngest nephew and our distant cousin.”
Erumelmo dipped his head in greeting as well. “I have not – ”
“You have never met him because he prefers to live with Turukáno – whom he happens to think no ill of.”
Túrë gave a sheepish smile. “Lord Findekáno is just jealous that I do not idolise him as much as I do his younger brother.”
Findekáno’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened. Then he laughed as did Erumelmo. “The insolence that I have to suffer from the young ones these days!” Findekáno laughed. “But he has the gift to keep us smiling. That is one skill we are in dire need of now.” He sobered.
Seeing the smiles leaving their faces, Túrë mentioned, “That is why my mother named me Lalardo.”
Findekáno could not help but smile at that.
Erumelmo chuckled. “You must meet my brother. Elerossë likes to make people smile, too.”
“I would be glad to do so, milord.” Túrë smiled.
* * *
"Why? Because I'm afraid and he gives me courage."
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Author
I am not that good with Tolkien’s languages, so would you translate "Ani apsenë, Herinya", for me – though I guess it means, ‘I am sorry, my lady’?
Tell me, I'll fix.))