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Noldolante

Turgon

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Dagorlin

There is no other sight like this in all of creation; standing here on the prow of my ship as the wind whips the sails overhead and the Swan Haven comes into view, gleaming white beneath an ocean of stars. My ship, Brightgleam, glides softly to the quayside where my family are gathered, waiting to toast me home. I have been away sometime now. Like most Noldor I have a passion for learning, for exploring that which is not yet known; and so I have travelled the coast from north to south, past shores which even my father's kindred have not yet given names, and mountains which in my mind I name for those I love. The proud peak I anchored beneath in Avathar I named for my Noldo father, and the tall, slender mountain clothed in winter's white that took my breath in Oiomúrë, I named for my Telerin mother. For as my friends in Tirion are want to tease, the soft heart of a Teleri beats within my chest. Something my mother always bade me be proud of.

As my ship nears my family's mooring, I begin to make out those faces so dear to me, and so long from my sight. And something within my heart forebodes me. For these faces, so often filled with bright laughter or warm tears upon my return, seem fearful, uncertain. Yet how could such feelings take hold? Here in our haven-home? My crewmen sense it too, and as we pull alongside my family, the steersman tugs too sharply on the rudder, causing Brightgleam to lurch into the stonework of the quay, and in the violence of the colision I hear a soft, crystal ringing. Slowly, slowly, like a minstrel's foot tapping out time. Turning to look my heart skips a beat, as I see one of Brightgleam's gemstone eyes bouncing across across the pier and into the cold waters of the Belegaer. My first thought is of my friend in Tirion who crafted these jewels for me, and the words he spoke as he set them into the swanhead on my prow.

'The eyes of the Noldor will ever see truly, friend Dagorlin, they cannot be deceived, and when the storm breaks upon you, they will guide you home.
 
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The guests at Fëanáro's house had gone through most of the dinner when Curufinwë asked softly Morfindessë :
- So, why did you come with Irissë at the forges ? Do not misunderstand me ; you are good company, and I am glad you're here tonight, but I wonder.

- Mere curiosity, answered Morfindessë. As many, I had witnessed the scene in Tirion today but I thought there might be something more to it than a simple brotherly strife.

- So this is how you would describe it ? A simple brotherly strife... This seems so tame.

- And yet, when the brothers are so mighty, it isn't.

Curufinwë laughed and said :
- Nice answer ; I should have known you wouldn't fall on this.

- I know this is a subject that shouldn't be spoken of in company, pursued Morfindessë, but why, in the first place, did you — and others, too — begin to forge swords and shields ?

- Don't you like to have a shield to wear you badge when you ride afar ?

- A shield is first a protection, and then a badge-bearer. Why would we need protecting ? Aren't we at peace here in Aman, where no war was ever waged ?

- Peace may not last, if we are to break our bonds.

As Morfindessë heard these words, her heart grew cold, and she shivered as she turned her head around, looking for the crystal that had just rung.

- Don't pretend to be shocked, said Curufinwë as he misunderstood her reaction. Irissë told me of your yearn for freedom.

- Didn't you hear the sound of a gem falling ? asked Morfindessë. It stroke my ears, and a shadow passed on me.

- No.

Morfindessë tried to hear more, but nothing save the sound of a merry dinner came to her. As Ambarussa bent to speak to her, the sound of hooves was heard outside, and the conversation died. All the guests listened to the steps that echoed through the house and turned to the door a moment before it opened, for they knew this pace, swift and strong.
The master of the house walked among the guests ; the candlelight flickered on his face, catching his piercing eyes and powerful jaw. A hard smile marked his face as he beheld the company, which rose to greet him, Fëanáro son of Finwë, whose brow bore a single white gem on a silver band.
 

Ithrynluin

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The cloaked figure stood at the back of the hall leaning against one of the great pillars carved of ebony, almost becoming one with it. He watched elves going back and forth as the discussion steadily became heated, eventually turning into a veritable clamour of voices. He rarely spoke, exchanging an odd word or two with the tall, moody elf who sat nearby, a representative of one of the many families living in Tirion. He knew »moody« was hardly a satisfactory description, since a brooding disposition was an everyday occurrence among this people, especially when they would hold a caucus with the royal family present.

Though his face remained serene, in his mind's eye he was sneering at the group of elves at the front of the room who for some reason came to be called princes of the Noldor. Was it their regal attire that bestowed upon them the right to rule? It certainly was not due to any special wisdom or talent, with a few exceptions he still held in high regard. Was it because their forebear lead the Noldorin host in their youth from the wilderness of Middle-earth to the light of Aman? »Yea, following the sparkling trail of the Huntsman's hooves must have been an ordeal indeed and must have called for great wisdom!« he observed scornfully, wearing a smirk.

There was unrest spreading through the blessed lands, and everyone was trying to get out on top and bring good tidings either to their families or their lords. People were drawn this way and that in these tumultuous times, and he, too, was uncertain how his own lord would look upon these strange developments. The Valar were uncannily silent in all these goings on, and not a word of reassurance came from any of them, at least not to Tirion.

The eldest sons of the Noldóran had almost come to blows earlier. If blood had been spilled between them, surely blood-lust would have overtaken the entire hall (at the least). He had prepared for just such an event, and even now felt the weight of his marvelously crafted sword at his side. He had noticed others carrying blades as well, though none could compare with his runic sword which was forged from a rare metal found (thus far) only in the sharp ravines of dark Avathar. In any case, he had no qualms as to which side he would have taken, for he now saw a clear vision before him that showed him which path would bear his plans to fruition.

The meeting was drawing to a halt and he prepared to leave. Matters of importance had been discussed already, and he had no intention of sticking around exchanging pleasantries. There were far more pressing issues at hand and he had to consult his lord before taking any further action. He paced down the long hall, making himself invisible to prying eyes, as only few were skilled enough to do. As he was opening the main gate, he exchanged a disdainful look with Carnistir, and then disappeared into the starlit night.
 

Turgon

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Dagorlin

Leaping from Brightgleam's deck I threw my arms about my mother and placed a kiss upon her brow. I could feel her trembling in my embrace, and she clung to me tightly, brushing back my silver hair, fussing over the state of my raiment, reluctant to let me go. She was always a delicate one, the Flower of the Havens my father called her, but there was something more to this. Then, as I scanned the faces around me, I noticed he was not there. 'Where is Father?' I asked. 'Has he grown tired of my wanderings at last?' I smiled at this, knowing full well my father's pride in my journeying. Always the first to study the charts I drew up on my voyages, and always eager to show them off to his friends in Tirion. I knew there must be something pressing that kept him away, and then I realised that this must be the cause of the darkness that had decended upon my kin.

'Where is Father?' I asked again, this time with some urgency in my voice. 'Why is he not here to greet me?'

'He is in Tirion, Dagorlin!' It was my sister, Merethwen, who answered, her little voice cracking as she spoke. 'The city is in an uproar!' Poor, sweet Merry, she was still a child, unable to mask the fear in her voice. 'They say the Sons of Finwe have come to blows, and bright blades have been drawn in the city!

So that was it was it? It had been brewing for long enough. Those who spent time on the ocean knew how to recognize the signs, and the storm that brews the longest strikes the fiercest. I knew the secret of these swords, indeed my father had crafted me a fine blade with his own hands, and presented it to me on the evening before my voyage. I would have none of it however, and liked them not. A crude tool I thought, more fitting for butcher's work.

I knew then though that I must follow my Father to Tirion. Though my heart belonged to the Havens, I would see peace kept in the streets of the city where so many of my dear ones dwelt. Indeed my family did nothing to turn me from my course, knowing from the outset that my duty lay there, though our parting was sorrowful and wet with tears. In no time at all my mother's steward had brought me a mount, and once more I kissed my mother and my dear little sister goodbye, before swinging onto my horse's back. As I turned to leave my mother pressed something cold into my hands. 'You will need this my son,' she sighed as I looked down upon her gift with cold eyes. 'Your course is set. I see a great darkness before you, and a long journey home. In this you must trust me to steer you right!' The steel in her voice shook me more than the steel that she pressed into my palm, but the light in her eyes told me she spoke truly. So it was that I found myself, against all judgement, fastening my sword about my waist and riding hard to Tirion.
 
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"White Lady, you are bold to be in the company of my sons. Or it may be that you are wise for it. The Valar have invited us to kneel at their feet tomorrow. They say 'invitie' my father tells me. But me, I think that if we were to refuse it, we would find ourselves commanded. I would have it that way, then all the Eldar of Aman would know indeed that we are thralls.

My father has persuaded me to attend this council. We will do so for his sake. Then at least we will know which High Prince they choose to favour, though I do not doubt the outcome. Though if dear Irisse would speak a word on our behalf..."

"You are my uncle and your sons like brothers to me, but I will not utter a word against my father... nor any of my kin to the Valar. I refuse to take sides."

" At whose table do you sit and grow merry on wine, while your father and brothers sit anxious at theirs? Do not choose sides? Yea, even Manwe could see through that. I thank you all for coming, and you are welcome to join us another evening, but I must speak with my sons now."

The sons all walk their guests to the door, apologising for the abrupt end to the evening, and then Maicanaro says goodbye. He walks with Morfindesse and Irisse down the white stone streets. Looking down over a high terrace, the three of them see tables of Noldor dining here and there in the evening light; Telperion wanes almost to naught and Laurelin begins to wax. A breeze from the east ushers in a cool air from the shadowy sea, and Maicanaro tastes the salt. He looks up to the Calacirya's starry ceiling. As if to spite all the whisperings of leaving, a fierce love of Tirion swells up in his chest. This is undeniably home.
 
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Stockholm

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- Home, said Morfindessë, as if echoing Maicanaro's thoughts. Sweet, and yet stifling. I love it better as a place to return to, than as an eternal and unchangeable dwelling.

- Yet it is long since we rode together in the wild, said Irissë. Why would you stay here ? I would have enjoyed your company in Araman, and you would have loved these shores, where the mountain meets the Sea.

- You know well why I stayed, answered Morfindessë. Now, please, can we enjoy this twilight in peace ?

She walked a short distance away from her friends and, turning her back to Tirion, watched the dark horizon behind the Calacirya. At this time of the day, the great stars shone like white fires on the glittering spray of the Milky Way, and the Sea was a plain of darkness underneath.
Would Dagorlin be back by now ? His return had been delayed twice now, and his swift ship had been spotted a short way from Tol Eressëa only the day before. Morfindessë could only marvel at his thirst of discovery ; a great mariner he was, bold and fearless, and she had loathed going north while he would be returning from the distant south. Irissë had long teased her about this, and had at last departed alone.

Turning, Morfindessë saw the silhouettes of her friends against the distant lights of the Trees. Yes, this was indeed home, where there is shelter and laughter, but now a dark anxiety had grown, and blissful peace was gone. Home it remained, although it was already a living memory of the past, as a lonely isle of light in a sea of deepening darkness.
But, as the fish of the depth have light for themselves, this sea probably held many treasures. Morfindessë understood the wandering mind of Dagorlin better than she thought, and she wished again to ride under unknown skies, in a land where everything would be new to her eyes.
 

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After saying goodbye to Morfindesse and Irisse, Maicanaro is lost in thought. Like a waking dream scenarios of the gathering in Valimar play out. The streets are buzzing with voices, many of them fearful: what happens if the Valar become angry, or if Feanaro looses his temper. Some are merely curious, but almost all of them excited.

Maicanaro does not hear this. How could he when Manwe now beckons him to the front of a murmuring crowd? So it happens that after Feanaro is stomped into the ground by Tulkas for drawing sword against Manwe, that Maicanaro finds himself back in Tirion and has reached the feet of the hill without ever meaning to. He must ride to Valimar at the next waxing of Laurelin, but now? Now is a good time to work. Deciding to rest later, he turns toward his shop.
 
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Ithrynluin

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He walked at a steady pace, favouring the narrower alleys to the wide, glorious avenues. The architecture was a marvel, and to this day he couldn't help but admire all of its details and subtlety each time he passed through these parts. Many of the houses, and not just the larger and more lavish ones, boasted elaborate carvings on designated places, depicting both events that had taken place in the Blessed Realm and others that some ascribed to the deep elves' vivid imagination and others called foresight. He found the house he was looking for, a marble dwelling unadorned and of modest size. He turned and pulled at the ivory doorhandle just right so that it gave way. The house had a faintly musty smell, like it hadn't been lived in for some time. He ascended the stairway, sensing the presence of another. He was not at all early.

»I have come, Lord.« he spoke into the gloom, as his eyes adjusted to the dark. There was a small lamp in one corner, but where it could penetrate there was noone to be seen. Finally, he espied the position of the figure and turned to face it. The figure was wearing a hood, with a few locks of hair finding their way out beneath it. The only other visible feature were the eyes, which almost shone with a light of their own, despite of the blackness. The flickering of the lamp from one side, and faint rays of moonlight distorted the face, and infused it with an air of eerieness.

The figure came forward in its chair and spoke with a grave but commanding voice: »Tell me all you have seen and heard.«
 

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Maicanaro reaches his shop. He pours himself a drink and sits at a cabinet his friend Dagorlin built. He begins to rummage through a case of gems and set aside certain rubies. But then he pauses.

"What am doing?" he sighs, and the weight of the days events settles on him. He has lost all focus to work, so the wedding rings for his sister will have to wait. His sister Elewende is getting married soon. He has been asked by her and Tyelkatano to make the rings. An important project, and one he has been putting off.

He watches the red stones shimmer in the white lamplight. Hooves galloping from the distance draw closer.
 
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Turgon

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Dagorlin

I always enjoyed the journey from shore to city, and often felt a sea-change as the light of the trees began to wash over me. It was quite an experience to be travelling beneath a sky brushed with stars and then slowly, oh so slowly, being washed the in the soft light of Valinor. Laurelin was in the ascendence as I made the climb through sweet Calacirya, and the silver light of Telperion was on the wane. Truly it made me smile, remembering a day, so long ago, when I stood atop the Mindon Eldalieva with dear Morfindessë. We had stood gazing eastwards towards the Swanhaven, towards the sea, for many hours and had spoken of many things. Of my life and of hers, of hopes and plans, of dreams and shadows. Our souls so bare, that our bodies lost all meaning.

Then, heralded by the peeling of bells, came the Mingling of the Light; always a time of wonder to one who spent so much time in darkness. We turned our eyes northwards then, and west away; standing for a long time in silence. After a while Morfindessë reached out and placed a pale hand upon my shoulder. 'Dagorlin,' she spoke in a low serious tone, and I, my mind drifting, started at her touch 'Sometimes I see you in the light. When you are away, and I feel the touch of melancholy upon me, this hour makes me glad. When the gold and the silver light mingles, becoming one, somehow the two parts becoming greater than the whole. It reminds me of you. Do you see it? The Noldo and the Teleri in you? Mingling? Coming together to create something new?'

She was half right, the Noldo and the Teleri did mingle in me, but the waxing and the waning? That is something I think she never saw. I always put on a bright face for her. But as the golden light of Laurelin crept through the pass, it did feel as if my Telerin life was falling away, fading like the silver stars above, like the light of Telperion, that once more I was entering my father's world, the golden age of the Sons of Finwe.

I was surprised when first I entered the city, there were no outward signs that anything was amiss. Indeed things were positively quiet, there was a strange sense of anticipation in the air for certain, of eager minds waiting, watching... but that was not out of the ordinary for the Noldor. At least not in my eyes. Certainly the picture I had formed of swords drawn and blood in the streets was far from true, and suddenly feeling conscious of the blade around my waist I pulled my cloak around myself, hiding it from view. Making my way to my father's manor, which lay in the shadow of the Mindon itself, I found it deserted. It was not entirely unexpected, my father was Finwe's man and would no doubt be in attendance on the King. I did not tarry there, not wanting to disturb my father's household, and instead made my way to the forge of my friend, Maicanaro. There I would find the news that I sought, and more besides, as the smith had always a sharp eye and a keen mind.

Guiding my steed into my friend's courtyard, it was a relief to see lamplight pouring from the windows. I dismounted quickly, and without thinking, threw my cloak over my shoulders, ran my fingers through my hair, and rapped eagerly upon his door.
 
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Who could it be? Maicanaro opens the door. There stands Dagorlin, and for the first time Maicanaro sees his friend carrying a sword!

"You should see your face, Maicanaro."

"What is the meaning?"

"You are all agape, that is what I mean." Dagorlin mimics Maicanaro's expression of wonder.

But now his face softens with a smile. "Get in here my friend, there is much to tell."

The two sit down with glasses of wine and Maikanaro explains what has happened.

"I am afraid the tensions that have been building are about to erupt. You must have heard by now that Feanaro held a blade at Nolofinwe's throat. This is a dangerous situation. All of Tirion is apt to break out in battle with eachother if Feanaro does murder his brother. The streets will shine red with spilled blood, unless this fued can be healed."

"What happened today? I have learned very little."

"There was to be a council among the lords, but Feanaro arrived to find Nolofinwe alone with the king. Rumor has it that Nolofinwe was there speaking ill of his brother. But hear me Dagorlin, this is not rumor! For I heard it myself with half of Tirion in the square outside the royal chambers; 'half-brother!' he said, 'This blade is sharper than your tongue. Try again to usurp my place and my father's love, and I will use this sword to rid the Noldor of one who seeks to be the master of thralls.' he said that, nay, he shouted it for all to hear."

Maicanaro sighs. "There seems to be no solution to this growing problem. Sometimes I wish there were a true enemy. Then we could be united againt him, instead we make enemies where none should be, among ourselves. Half of Tirion are choosing sides."

Maicanaro looks weary, but is comforted by the company of his friend. He was always at ease with Dagorlin. Though he hadn't realised it until now as he compares and contrasts this meeting with his earlier companions.
 

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Feeling a new unrest, Morfindessë had left Irissë and gone back to her empty home. Her parents didn't live in Tirion anymore, favouring the calm of distant moors in the North.

Morfindessë didn't light the lamps, but stood in the growing light, thinking. Her mind wandered to past days, over the Mindon, where clear and cherished memories lingered. Such peace, and her beloved by her side, as the Trees mingled their lights, and Helluin rose — an instant of perfection, blessed.
No, Dagorlin was back ; her heart told her so. He had probably learnt the events on his landing ; Morfindessë knew that, upon learning such dreadful news, he would have ridden to Tirion as fast as his horse would bear him. His father was away from town, so the first place he would go would be Maicanaro's forge.

As she rose, Morfindessë felt again this weight on her breast, but didn't heed it. She went in haste to a hidden cabinet, carved from driftwood by a Teleri hand, and there took a parcel, wrapped in a silk, that had costed her a long labour. Taking her long dark mantle, she then left the house and hurried through the calm streets. Few were walking through Tirion, not at this time of the day, but there was nonetheless a tension in the air. Although the golden light was soft as ever, and the breeze warm, no wanderer roamed aimless, seeking only pleasure in the streets.

Yet, however hurried she was, Morfindessë paused on top of a great flight of sparkling stairs and looked at the distant Trees. This was one of the only places where one could see them through the high buildings ; Morfindessë loved this sight. Laurelin was shining more and more every minute, hurrying towards her noon — but there was still time before one was almost blinded when gazing in her direction ; one saw still her slender silhouette, surrounded by the bright specks of the falling dew, between a high tower and an elegant balcony, covered in green vine.

Tearing herself from this day-dream, Morfindessë ran down the stairs and soon found Maicanaro's door, where she knocked three times.
 

Turgon

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Dagorlin

Leaning back in my chair, I took a sip of wine and turned things over in my head. In the Swanhaven we had few dealings with Feanor, but Fingolfin and Finarfin were well known to us, and Finarfin especially was well-loved amongst the Teleri. I had met with Feanor on occasion, while in my the company of my father, and found him to be rather high-minded and full of his own thoughts. Yet a practical man, if not a sensible one. His behavior strung me as odd. Of course there were a lot of odd things happening in Tirion of late. Especially since, he had been released from bondage.

'But what of Finarfin?' I said, speaking my thoughts. 'Arafinwe? What does he say on this matter? Surely his wisdom could quiet this brewing storm?'

'I have heard little of Arafinwe.' Maicanaro reply slowly. 'Though no doubt the restraint that Nolofinwe and his followers have shown is in part due to the temperance of his brother.'

'And Feanor?' Said I. 'He will has not spoken with his younger brother?'

'In truth Dagorlin, in Curufinwe's mind he sees little difference between the brothers. When one goes, so goes the other.' With this Maicanaro sighed and furrowed his brow. 'Or so it seems to me.'

'No matter, no matter.' I smiled. 'As long as Finwe is King this all comes to nothing. It is usual for siblings to fight is not? Why even my little Merry can be quite the handful when she does not get her own way. It will all blow over given time. You will see.'

I'm not sure even I believed those words.

We were silent for a while, lost in our own thoughts. I wanted to bring up the subject of The Prisoner, he who was released, but even the thought of him made me uncomfortable. We had no dealings with him in the Swanhaven, but here in Tirion there were those who would listen to him, learn from him. Let him craft a ship that could outride the wind, only then would he have something to teach me, and even then I would shut my ears. And so, as once again my thoughts took on a dark cast, there came a knocking at the door.

I must admit I started at the sound.
 

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Morfindessë stepped through the door and laughed when she saw Maicanaro's expression :
- Yes, me again, to bother you. Would you, by any chance, have a guest from the Havens sitting at your fire ?
- Yes, indeed ! He will be glad to see you ; do come in.

They went inside, only to meet Dagorlin half way.
- I thought I had heard your voice, he said, taking Morfindessë's hand. Foresighted as ever.
- No foresight today, answered she. Your Brightgleam was espied yestereve, a day from the mooring.
Dagorlin bent towards Morfindessë, and the two shared a close and silent embrace. Morfindessë closed her eyes ; being with Dagorlin again was like finding a bright light after a long dusk. His hair still smelled of salt. For a while, time stopped, as the pair knew each other again. They had been apart for a long time ; there would be many tales to tell, and thoughts to share.
As Morfindessë looked speechless in Dagorlin's sea-eyes, she was reminded that, as long as there would be undiscovered shores to explore, such separations would be their fate — but she didn't fret over it. If this as their lot, then so be it ; Arda was vast, and time unnumbered. Unless Mandos chose otherwise, they would always find each other at the end of the journey.

When their embrace came to an end, Morfindessë took a step backwards and looked at Dagorlin's sword.
- You Teleri, she said, teasing him. This doesn't suit you the least. I thought you were a sensible mariner, not a blood-craving smith.
- I rode to Tirion believing the streets to be rivers of blood, but I only found scared people hurrying to their business.
- No, we're not there yet, though some in the House of Finwë would be satisfied if it were otherwise. Has Maicanaro told you the news ?
- Yes, he has ; we were pondering the facts when you came.
- Well, come and have a seat, Morfindessë, said the lord of the premises. Good wine helping, we shall do the pondering together, and enjoy the process.

Once they were seated, Dagorlin spoke again, getting a small wooden box from his pocket :
- Before we delve further into the current affairs, this is for you, Morfindessë. I know how you like them.
When she slowly opened the box, a pearl pendant, in the telerin fashion, shone in the golden glow of the fire. White as a cloud it was, stricken with deep blue and grey, and rosy hues, the likes of which few people in Tirion had seen. The setting, however, was of noldo shape, fashioned in silver and bearing Dagorlin's crest. Speechless, Morfindessë could only look at the pendant in wonder.
- I have no words to thank you, Dagorlin, she finally said, for, although it would be a king's treasure, I will hold it dearer still, because it comes from you. And I'm ashamed of my own gift.
She took the parcel from her cloak and handed it to him. Unwrapped, it revealed a scabbard, bearing two swans under the stars. Dagorlin watched it closely and said :
- Now I shall like my sword, because you gave me what I need to keep it at peace.

After a time, when they had settled around the fire, Morfindessë said :
- I didn't have time to tell you, Maicanaro, but I met Nerdanel today. Her insight was... interesting.
- What does she think of what happened ? asked Maicanaro.
- She wouldn't speak her mind but, from what she told me, none, in the House of Fëanáro, knows precisely what is going on. She spoke of rumors spread, and deceit, among her sons.
 

YayGollum

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Rimpalómë glided over Valmar, attempting to locate the Mahaxanar, where the Valar reportedly sat for major decisions. He had been following Manwë's movements for some time, trying to work up the nerve to speak with him about himself and his fellow ravens, but he hated the cities. Acting polite was already difficult enough, but the cities seemed to have spawned a thousand new rules to observe. Why complicate things, when the world exists just for the love of being?

He didn't really have to try, though, to hear that the Valar were troubled over some influential elvish princeling or other's recent actions. Most that he had spoken to about the situation only thought of the upstart Calaquendi angle, but he was more interested in Melkor's doings, especially when he heard whispers that he had been the cause of the trouble. "They'll see things my way, now that I can apply the idea to something they care about!"

Following the crowds, he came to the entrance of the Ring of Doom, where two giant eagles barred the way. Rimpalómë fluttered over a few elvish heads for a while, before he could get them to clear a space, after which he strutted his way up to the eagles. He scoffed at their puffed-up and officious manners, when they glared down at him. "Hmph! When will this business be done with? I have a matter to bring to Manwë's attention. It has a bearing." <--- Said with a distracted wave, indicating impatience and disinterest in whatever is currently taking up Manwë's time.

"Were you there, little one? Did you observe something that others did not? Otherwise, be off! The Valar do not gather here for everyone with a beak to squawk." That bird was serious! Rimpalómë was an Ainu, the same as them! So power was all that mattered to them? He cawed with frustration, then rudely launched himself away, scattering feathers. "If they had us watching, this never would have happened! Where is Melkor now? Why are they afraid to even keep a small eye on him?" With another caw to himself and a glare at the eagles behind him, he muttered, "It isn't all about the wingspan!"

Thinking about how he could give the ravens a higher standing and not really paying attention to where he was going, he ended up on some elf's roof, where he continued muttering to himself, with occasional caws.
 
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As Maicanaro is witness to the happy reunion of his friends, he knows the mind of Morfindesse. He shuts out her thoughts, and turns away. He stares into the gems at his table, and suddenly... he breathes "I know what to give for my sister!"

"Lets sit" he says, they begin to discuss matters. "Well this must be terribly grievous for Nerdanel to behold. Imagine how Finwe must also feel. Pressured to take sides among his sons."

" I cannot image." Morfindesse agrees.

"Would he ever choose one over another? If so, I beg Eru it is Feanaro Spirit of Fire, for the other sons might bear it. Feanaro could not!"

Maicanaro becomes aware that he now gossips concerning the family, and listens, though it is a bit too suspicious, to make sure no one is just outside the shop to hear it.

"What is that sound? Nothing it seems, just a bird... only Rumil knows which."

"Dagorlin, I take it you will ride with us to Valimar?"
 
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Rimpalómë gave a start at seeing that he had been observed. He quickly decided, though, that it didn't matter, since he hadn't been attempting to be stealthy, and fluttered to ground level, where he made as if to search. "Where is, 'just a bird'? I am certainly not just a bird! I am Rimpalómë, and I have business with Manwë himself!"

He stepped up to them as if he owned the building. "You are going to Valimar, as well? Why? Oh! Most likely to hear of the latest spat between siblings? You Caliquendi are certainly unpredictable, but there is one that has seemingly led your prince by the nose! I have heard that Melkor has been missing since before your Feanaro created this stir. Now, why would that be?" He smirked at the elves, considering how silly the wingless looked.
 
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Silly indeed they looked, their mouths half-open, and their faces shocked to see a raven speak in such a self-conscious way.
- Rimpa... lómë, mouthed silently Morfindessë.
What a name.

- Maybe you shall tell us, since you claim to be so knowledgeable ? said carefully Maicanaro.

- Knowledgeable ? spat Rimpalómë, ruffling his feathers. Me ? I'm so much more than this that it would be useless to explain it ! Even the Eagles are unable to grasp how awesome I am, you wouldn't get even the beginning of it !

- Please, master Rimpalómë, asked Morfindessë, smiling. Even if we can't fully understand you, please try, for in teaching itelf lies a great glory.

- I have thought for a long time that, since the Prisoner was released, a lot of strange things have happened in Tirion, said Dagorlin.

- Oh, so you have, haven't you ? Well, you can't even guess what has been going on !

Hearing the ringing of bells in the distance, Morfindessë was startled and thought :
- It's already the tenth hour of the day ! We should be heading to Valmar...
 

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The three mount horses and ride up the Calacirya towads Valimar. "Lelya, Ruscolindo" Maicanaro tells his steed, a light but powerful red horse. As they travel the pass of light, he looks up occasionally to study the raven.

"What an effective design. He can fly through the air and let loose arrows at the same time. I wouldn't want to be hunted by him." Maicanaro tells Dagorlin.

"I almost forgot! Dagorlin, I did not know you possessed a blade. Please, tell me where it came from, the design is evidently that of a competitor. I would like a closer look when we have the opportunity, I will also show you mine." Maicanaro wonders if Dagorlin also has chainmail, helmet or any armour.
 

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As they rode through the Calacirya, Morfindessë closed her eyes and savoured the cold swift wind on her face. They were riding fast, as fast as only steeds born in Aman could go ; now that they were on the western side of the Pelori, they were bathed in a heavy light. No stars shone in the North now, for a mist had risen from the Sea ; even with their keen elvish sight, what laid in the distance was whitened and blurred.

Their horses' hooves rang on the earth like a hail falling ; Rimpalómë's flight was silent as the night. They were alone, although Morfindessë guessed she could see a few riders moving far ahead of them, through the mist. None of them spoke ; each was engrossed in his own thoughts.
Morfindessë was again wondering if these feuds in the House of Finwë would lead to Fëanáro departing, his own master, and lord of a part of the Noldo people. Although she disliked the very thought of her people being sundered, she couldn't help her pulse beating faster as she thought of the freedom they might gain. Would Fëanáro lead a rebellion against the Valar ?
The answer was waiting in Valmar. Morfindessë urged her horse forward, as if the road burned her.
 

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