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Chapter Six: Lembi

After the Kinslaying between the Noldor and Teleri, Fëanor's compliment commandeered the ships they had sought after and manned the white oars as they set out to follow the coast northwards alongside their fellow Noldor marching with Fingolfin.

Glorfindel's heart was aching and he felt his soul torn in two over the recent events. This was indeed a great transgression against the Valar and the Eldar but yet they still bore on along their journey to the Hither Lands.

"How many do you suppose we lost?" Turgon suddenly said quietly, breaking the silence as he and Glorfindel walked side by side.

Glorfindel glanced behind and found Elenwë and Idril following not far behind, a still distraught Elrilya supported between the mother and daughter. His heart went out to the young maiden, having lost her parents and most of her close relatives in the fighting, as did many others among Turgon and Fingolfin's followers. Her eyes were distant and unfocused as she trudged along in her clothes still stained with her mother's blood. Though, it heartened Glorfindel that Turgon and Elenwë had decided to be there for Elrilya as guardians in the stead of her slain family.

"One too many," he said sadly in response.

"Indeed," Turgon agreed. "Fëanor's group was greatly diminished because of the first onslaught on his own."

Glorfindel eyed the white sails along the gray sea out to his side. A majority of those who were still loyal to Fëanor rowed or commanded the ships on their way. This did not abide well for Glorfindel and he had a strange feeling that it may come to haunt him later.

"I fear these obstacles we have come across in our journey have not wearied his heart's desire much at all," Glorfindel commented. "Vengeance's flame still burns hot within him and I fear now what the Valar may do because of his deeds."

Turgon nodded solemnly, "I have been thinking myself what may happen or what he plans to do once we arrive."

"Many are already turning their heads to look back at Tirion," Glorfindel said, noting his observations.

"I have seen it also. Finarfin is already distressed over Eärwen's grief," Turgon said, mentioning his uncle's Teleri wife who had been raised in Alqualondë. "They may be the first to return if any come to that decision."

"And what of you?" Glorfindel asked curiously. "Would you turn back if our people willed it?"

Turgon appeared to mull it over in his mind silently for a few moments, biting his lip timidly.

"We have already set out on this quest and there is still a chance we can and may return," he started. "Yet, I have sworn no oath that binds me to this journey but I have never been one to turn from something I have set out to do."

Glorfindel nodded, he knew his friend was right in his assessment of himself. Even if given the chance to return to Tirion, Turgon would not turn back after having gone this far already.

"The sky is growing dark and clouds are mounting," Turgon said, strangeness in his voice crowing. "A storm is brewing."

"I smell it too," Glorfindel said after feeling the air a moment. "It is growing fast, this must be because of the Valar."

At that moment, Fingon appeared in their presence.

"The sea is growing wrathful," the dark haired Noldor said. "The ships are in trouble."

The wind picked up and began to howl as the three elves looked out to the waters beyond the beach. Many of the white ships were attempting to ride out the waves but were having a difficult time navigating and staying on course as the wind tore at their sails and ripped the oars from the hull.

"Uinen has become angered," Glorfindel stated, speaking of the Maia known as the Lady of the Sea. "She is weeping for the slain Teleri."

A loud cracking sound of wood swept across the wind to the marching Noldor on the beach as the first ship was swallowed by a gigantic wave. Those watching cried out and ran further away from the waters edge in fear that the waves may consume them all and drag them out to sea. Two more ships were taken by the tumultuous sea as another capsized, likely trapping her crew in its bowels to die drowning.

"We cannot do anything to help them," Turgon said over the wind. "This is out of our hands."

After many minutes that felt like an eternity, the storm ended as suddenly as it had began. Only a third of the ships remained still afloat and in maneuverable states as the winds subsided. No trace of survivors made it to the beaches or the intact ships for the dark waters had completely engulfed them down to her seemingly endless depths. And so the Noldor continued on, their hearts even heavier than before but now fluttering with heightened fear.



"The air grows cold, keep close to stay warm," Turgon advised his family and those nearby.

Elenwë came closer to her mate as they stood, the blankets she had brought not keeping enough warmth as they wandered once more across the mountainous wastelands of Araman to head further north so that their sea crossing could be that much shorter. For the time being, they were resting where Fëanor had come ashore from one of the ships so that he may speak with Fingolfin and Finarfin.

Idril sat huddled with Elrilya, who held onto her from around her waist so that they may give each other warmth. The two friends clung to each other closely, no words passing between them yet knowing exactly what the other needed or was doing. Though, Idril still worried for her friend who had spoken little since Alqualondë. Death to the Eldar was unnatural to their immortal souls and to have so many lost, especially those dear to oneself, was a great tragedy to those still living.

A blanket was draped across their backs and Idril looked up in surprise to find Glorfindel giving them his own so that she and Elrilya would not be cold. His cloak was wrapped tightly around his form to ward off the frost.

"Anta le, nilmo," Idril said, her voice gracious.

He bowed his head in acceptance of her thanks.

"How are you both?" he inquired, his eyes drifting across their usually pale tinted cheeks now stained with redness from the cold.

"We are managing," Idril said with a sigh.

Glorfindel was about to speak but a booming voice cut him off and echoed across the valleys.

"Halt!" thundered the voice. "All Noldor, pay heed to my words."

Cries of fright went up among many but quieted in the growing fear of the dark figure that had appeared above them on a rock precipice. They could not see the face of the person but they knew it was a Valar who had come.

"'Tears unnumbered ye shall shed; and the Valar will fence Valinor against you, and shut you out, so that not even the echo of your lamentation shall pass over the mountains. On the House of Fëanor the wrath of the Valar lieth from the West unto the uttermost East, and upon all that will follow them it shall be laid also. Their Oath shall drive them, and yet betray them, and ever snatch away the very treasures that they have sworn to pursue. To Evil end shall all things turn that they begin well; and by treason of kin unto kin; and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass. The Dispossessed shall they be for ever.

'Ye have spilled the blood of your kindred unrighteously and have stained the land of Aman. For blood ye shall render blood, and beyond Aman ye shall dwell in Death's shadow. For though Eru appointed to you to die not in Eä, and no sickness may assail you, yet slain ye may be, and slain ye shall be: by weapon and by torment and by grief; and your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you. And those that endure in Middle-earth and come not to Mandos shall grow weary of the world as with a great burden, and shall wane, and become as shadows of regret before the younger race that cometh after. The Valar have spoken.'"*

The silhouette of the figure then disappeared from sight. The words of the Valar sunk in, as everyone comprehended the meaning. A great commotion and chaos erupted as the same debate raged once more that had been spoken in the courtyard by the White Tree in Tirion.

Idril shuddered as the realization dawned on her and felt Elrilya's grip on her hand tighten from feeling her friend's fright.

"This is it," Idril whispered to her. "If we go on, we cannot ever come back to Tirion."

Elrilya nodded solemnly in response, her eyes downcast. Both their attentions were drawn up as Finarfin approached his brother Fingolfin.

"This is madness, toron," Finarfin declared. "I will not take our people to their deaths!"

"We should stay together," Fingolfin countered. "We mustn't dwindle our numbers yet remain strong."

Finarfin shook his head, not being swayed the least to continue on the journey, "I am turning back, and I believe there is still time and forgiveness in the Valar to let us return with little punishment."

"And Fëanor? He wishes to march forth?" Turgon asked as he stepped into the conversation between his father and uncle.

"It seems so," Finarfin said with a heavy sigh. "He has already spoken to a mass of the troop further ahead and have worked them into a fervor with his speaking again."

"I cannot turn back now," Fingolfin said, his eyes filled with sadness. "The Kinslaying weighs heavily upon our souls and many among us fear punishment. So I shall take them on the march out of these lands."

"It is sorrowful to hear that and I shall miss you, toron," Finarfin said as he and Fingolfin embraced in brotherly farewell. "My sons and my daughter, Artanis, will be continuing on this journey to the Hither Lands for I cannot persuade them to come back with me. They remain to stand by your sons. Promise me you will watch over them?"

"I shall," Fingolfin said. "As will my sons and kin."

"Farewell, till we hopefully might meet again," Finarfin said, his voice faltering slightly as he clasped his brother's arm.

"Until then," Fingolfin agreed.



A thick fog lay across the barren land as the Noldor walked on to the north. The frigid air stung their faces and eyes as they continued slowly, not turning back despite the rumors and talk spreading among them. Despair swept swiftly through them as they carried on further and many began to curse Fëanor for having pursued that course of action. Others began to regret not having left with Finarfin to return to Tirion many days earlier. Though, many others stayed silent and discreet.

After many days of travel, the Noldor came upon the edges of the Helcaraxë, which marked the final leg of their journey before arriving in Endor. Fëanor called for the Noldor to make camp for the time being until he and his sons mapped out a plan to bring everyone safely across the treacherous waters and avoiding the sheets of ice from the Helcaraxë.

"Is she resting?" Glorfindel asked.

Idril was sitting closely to Elrilya who was curled in tightly within her thick cloak.

"Yes, she's sleeping," whispered Idril. "She was very worn out by the last few days of marching."

"She mentioned that to you? We could have asked to slow down the pace," Glorfindel said, somewhat worried about the well being of his young friend since she was not the only one of the Noldor having a hard time in the harsh climate.

Idril shook her head, "She has not said a word since we left Alqualondë. Though, I know her well enough that I can tell how she feels without her telling me directly."

Glorfindel settled down in front of Idril on the frozen ground and smiled a little from underneath the hood of his cloak.

"You two are awfully close," he commented. "Almost like siblings."

"Yet, by unfortunate circumstances, we now are," said Idril solemnly, her gray eyes lowering.

Glorfindel felt a pang of guilt hit him as he realized his inadvertently painful observation. Now was not the time to dwell on the negatives that had plagued them on their journey.

"Tell me," he inquired, trying to change the subject. "How did you and Elrilya meet? Your mother and father never told me the story."

"It is not a very entertaining story," Idril said.

"I would like to hear it still," he pried.

Idril sighed and then took a deep breath before beginning.

"There was a festival in Tirion one day, I cannot remember what it was for exactly, but all the elflings, including me and Elrilya, were gathered together for a performance. I think we were supposed to represent all of the Valar for a reenactment of a story," Idril said with a small laugh. "We were very young so I do not recall everything that happened. Though, from what Amil has told me, an elfling was picking on me by pulling my hair and chasing me everywhere, getting mud on my costume that Amil took a long time to make for me. Out of nowhere, Elrilya came up and shoved him hard, a little too hard in fact. He tripped and fell into one of the fountains in the courtyard."

"Hard to imagine calm Elrilya so rough with someone," Glorfindel joked.

"It has been a while but she is still the same person I met that day," Idril said. "She will always stand up for others."

"A good trait one holds steadfast to," he nodded.

Idril smiled then suddenly stifled an unforeseen yawn.

Glorfindel chuckled, "I see Elrilya is not the only one who needs rest. Now is a good time for you to do so, Idril. I believe Fëanor plans to camp here for a time."

"I shall do that," she replied as she pulled her cloak tighter around her body.

"Rest well," Glorfindel bid her as he let her be.


Glorfindel made his way amid the sleeping travelers in the camp as he kept watch over Fingolfin's resting group. Nearly everyone was asleep, including Turgon and Fingolfin, but not Glorfindel. He did not feel the grip of sleep nag at him just yet but he felt that it would be best that one stay awake to see over all of those sleeping. A smile grew on his face as he saw he was not the only one awake.

"What are you up to, sermo?" Glorfindel asked the lone elf as he approached silently.

A small smile came to the face of Artanis, also named Alatariel daughter of Finarfin, "The same as you, yet for different reasons."

"And what may those be?" Glorfindel questioned with an upturned eyebrow as he settled next to Artanis upon the ground of the mound of earth overlooking the camp.

"Something is amiss tonight," Artanis said, her eyes flittering across the foggy land in front of them. "I do not know what it may be but I have a feeling something is about to befall us."

"I trust your intuition, Alatariel, but what more can harm us that has not already happened?" Glorfindel sighed. "It has already been a long road for us all."

"Have you already forgotten the words of Námo?" Artanis asked, her words were tinged with a touch of anxiety.

Glorfindel narrowed his green eyes for a moment as he pondered what Artanis said. He watched her carefully a moment as a sudden breeze picked up and her blonde hair whipped about her serious face. He had not expected the dark figure on the mountaintop to be Námo himself. Though, with the impact of the Noldor's departure from Valinor, he could understand how this event would be important enough to even bring Námo to them.

"I have not forgotten," Glorfindel said as he turned his gaze down toward the camp. "I just wish not to let my mind linger on depressing thoughts such as those."

"I also do not linger on sad thoughts but look forward to what we shall come to see," she said.

"I try to see better times ahead for all of us, I have hope," Glorfindel agreed.

"You stand loyally next to Turgon," Artanis commented. "Is that all that keeps you here on this journey?"

"No," Glorfindel said, and then paused as he became unsure of what to say. "I feel a duty to stand by my kin and friend but there is something else I feel pulling me."

He felt a flutter across his mind for an instant and glanced to Artanis' knowing eyes.

"I see," she said with a knowing expression.

"There is no hiding things from you," he said with a soft chuckle. "I feel my fate lies across these waters."

"Many of the Noldor's paths lie in Aman," she said with a nod.

"Is that why you continued on without Finarfin?" Glorfindel asked.

"My father's life and love is Valinor," she answered. "I must follow my own way and path even if it takes me far from my kin."

Glorfindel thought for a moment at her words. He himself wondered at what the rest of his family felt about his departure, as well as Elenwë's. For the great House of the Golden Flower to be split asunder was going to have repercussions for many ages to come in Valinor.

Glorfindel was about to speak when he noticed Artanis staring hard into the darkness. Her eyes were scrunched and her brow furrowed as she scanned the fog-covered horizon.

"What are you looking at?" Glorfindel asked curiously.

"Are those sails I see upon the water?" Artanis asked, her voice wavering.

Glorfindel peered out toward where Artanis' gaze fell and he could discern a few white sails above the mist.

"Those are the Teleri ships, why are they..." Glorfindel's voice caught in his throat as he realized what was happening.

In a flash, he was on his feet and sprinting down the hill toward where Fëanor's troops and followers had been resting not far from Fingolfin's own complement. To his dismay and sudden rise of instinctual panic course through him, he found the neighboring camp empty and deserted. Artanis soon appeared beside him as he stood in shock as well at the silent scene.

"They took all of the ships?" she asked.

"Everything," Glorfindel answered. "They are gone."

*Words by Námo were an excerpt taken from The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Glossary
Lembi: left behind
Anta le: thank you
nilmo: (male) friend
toron: brother
sermo: (female) friend

Note: Artanis and Alatariel were the names of Galadriel before she came to Middle Earth.