[Mithadan]

Tales From Tol Eressëa:
Conversations in Avallónë – Part I
by Mithadan

Ælfwine had tarried in the house of Elrond but a fortnight when the wind turned and blew from the East, bringing with it a stream of thin rushing clouds. Dancing amid the clouds were kestrels and gulls, wings spread wide in the stiff breeze. Their mournful cries awoke in Ælfwine a great desire to again breathe the salt air and walk the shores of the sea. And so he resolved to take his leave of Elrond and Celebrian, yet not without some regret, for within the walls of that house for the first time in his restless life he had found a profound sense of peace. The halls of Elrond were like no other; ancient beyond the reckoning of men but seemingly less weighted down by the passing of the ages than the dwellings of other Elf lords. It was as if the house was unchanging and constant so that if, by chance, he was to return a century hence the fire would still be lit while stories were told. Yet it seemed that Elrond understood the hearts of men like no other in this land.

So it was that on a fine sunny morning Ælfwine strode through the gates of the house of Elrond carrying a light pack and bade his hosts farewell. Elrond regarded Ælfwine gravely, then turned his grey eyes to the East as if to see where the road would lead this man. "The sea longing is shared by Elves and Men alike," said Elrond. "It is difficult to resist yet I deem that you are not yet ready to take leave of our fair isle. So I bid you return when you wish, and the chance allows. You will be welcome."

"Yes," said Celebrian. "Come when you may. Your stay here has gladdened us for it brings memories of ages past when we yet dwelt in Middle earth and many a child of Man graced our halls."

"I will return if I can," replied Ælfwine. "Indeed never have I been happier than these past weeks. If I may, I shall visit these halls again."

Elrond smiled broadly and his eyes glittered like stars in a cloudless midnight sky. "Indeed you must, for many are the tales which can be told and the songs that may be sung. You have heard but a few and broad is the lore of the Eldar.

"Midsummer is but three weeks hence and, on its eve, many will be the guests in my home. That is a night like no other for songs and stories and then might even your great appetite for tales of old be sated. Come then if you may and join us in welcoming the sun's first light on Midsummer's morn. Then you will indeed be glad of the fate that has brought you here."

"I thank you," said Ælfwine. "And I shall surely return then for who could deny such an invitation from so gracious a host." He bowed to the Elves and lifting his pack he turned away.

"A moment!" cried Celebrian. "We would not have you depart without some token to remind you of your stay in the house of Elrond." She stepped forward and held out her hand. In it was a small knife, little longer than a finger and a half, in a silver sheath that glittered under the sun. The sheath was engraved with a six-pointed star encompassed within a circle. Between each ray of the star was set a white stone which seemed to glow in the morning light. Taking the knife, Ælfwine marveled at the beauty of the gift as he drew the tiny blade from its sheath.

"Take care!" warned Elrond. "It is very sharp and it will hold its edge even if you use it often."

"Thank you again!" stammered Ælfwine. "But for what shall I use this fine gift? Surely no one would waylay me in this land and even so what use would such a small blade be in my defense? Yet it is a thing of beauty and so precious of its own right."

Celebrian looked sidewise at her husband and laughed. "It is not for your defense. Nonetheless I suspect you may find a use for it." She smiled and her grey eyes glittered with mirth. "Farewell Ælfwine! May your road be pleasant and may it take you where you wish only to lead you back to our halls."

Elrond and his wife turned and strode up the white steps and through the heavy wooden gates of their house. Ælfwine stood for a while looking after them and, almost, chose to stay but a while longer. Then he sheathed the knife, placed it in a pocket of his pack and stepped out onto the road.

The road to Avallónë was longer than he expected and ever as he walked the sea birds wheeled and called above his head. But at last he drew near the Elven city; its white walls rose before him and its towers gleamed like snowy peaks outlined against the blue sky. And at last the gulls abandoned their game and soaring over the walls of the city returned to their home by the sea. One paused and lit on a branch of a tree whose limbs spread their shade over the road. It looked down at him as he passed as if reluctant to take leave of its play, then with a great cry it took to the air and wheeled away on the sea wind and passed into the West.

The road grew broad as it wound its way down to the gates of Avallónë. Of mother of pearl they were wrought, and they shimmered in grey and white and opalescent blue. Almost fragile they seemed, though bound and barred with gleaming silver, but then who in this land was there to lay siege to them? Yet Ælfwine knew somehow that no might of men unaided could topple those doors. Today, like most days, save when Ossë was at play and a rare storm lashed the enchanted seas, the gates of Avallónë stood open wide and many were passing through them on errand, errantry or leisure.

Just inside Ælfwine paused to look about and his gaze came to rest on the great tower, the Mindon Anduliéva. Built of polished coral rock the slender tower rose nigh unto four hundred feet to its great lamp whose light pierced the darkness even of a starless night. He perceived that on the dark night months before when a storm had whipped the waves into a frenzy until his empty ship was beaten into submission, it was the Mindon's light that he had seen at the verge of sight, beckoning him to safety. Only the glow of that light had prevented him from surrendering to the might of the sea then. In a chamber just under that lamp, Ælfwine now knew, there rested a palantír which gazed ever back to the mortal lands that the Elves had left behind. He wondered if on that night someone had watched through the palantír as he struggled to reach the lands to the West that had for so long been forbidden to Man.

As he wandered through the streets of the city, many a passerby stopped to stare at the raven-haired Man. This did not concern Ælfwine; he had experienced the same expressions of wonderment in Tavrobel and on the roads that he had traveled on the lonely Isle. Ignoring the buzz of conversation and the whispers of "Atan," he strode on until he reached a great square in which many fountains played, their streams melting into rainbows beneath the light of the sun. To his left rose the Mindon, impossibly slim for its height so that he could not long gaze up at it without growing dizzy. To his right the streets sloped down to the quays of Avallónë where many white ships lay tied to the docks. Nearby, a small group of Elf children, almost the first he had seen on the island, danced beneath the spray of a fountain.

Suddenly they became aware of him and scrambled over to crowd around his legs. Enraptured by the music of their voices and their lithesome grace, he knelt among them and one reached out hesitantly to touch his face. When her fingers reached his beard she cried out in delight and her fellows skipped and giggled, pointing at Ælfwine. And Ælfwine laughed too for he thought he understood now the purpose of Celebrian's gift. In the months since he had arrived on the shores of this place, not once had he beheld an Elf with a beard.

The children returned to their game and he rose and proceeded down to the quays. The scent of the ocean filled the air and his heart pounded in his chest as he drew near the many swan-prowed ships. He wandered among the docks taking their measure and wondering at the beauty of their smooth white hulls. No stain of pitch or oil marred their planks and the manner of the making of the hulls was beyond his knowledge. Their banners of white, blue and green, glinting with traceries of gold and silver, rustled in the endless breeze and, once again, the sea birds filled the skies.

He continued on along the quays approaching a great white swanship, larger than any he had seen. Its banners were grey with blue stars and wings were carved upon its sides. It was drawn up to a dock and several Elves bustled about its hull cleaning it of the stains of the sea. As he drew near, he became aware of two figures standing near a seawall by its prow. Then, with a cry of surprise, Ælfwine rushed forward for one appeared to be a Man, his hair silvered by age, with a long beard. Hearing his cry the two turned to him and by the glitter of his grey eyes whose depths reflected the wisdom of ages, Ælfwine knew he had erred and that the silver haired one was indeed of the Eldar.

"My pardon," puffed Ælfwine as he reached the two Elves. "By your beard I took you to be one of my people; one of the children of Men. But I see I am mistaken."

"And I see that you in truth are of the Atani. What wonder is this that a Man is permitted the Straight Path?" replied the bearded Elf in a voice deep as the seas. "Come. Sit and speak with us for I would hear your tale. I am Círdan, a shipwright of the Teleri."

"Ælfwine I am called," responded the Man. "And I would also hear your tale for no Elf that I have seen wears a beard." He sat on the wall and for the first time looked upon the second Elf. He was very tall and his hair was dark and shot with tones of rich red, but his face was deeply lined as if he had suffered some torment. His hands he held behind his back and he neither sat nor spoke.

"Even an Elf may show some sign of eld after the passage of many ages and I am old even in the eyes of my people. Few live on this Isle who can recall the waters of Cuiviénen," said Círdan as he gazed out at the waves marching in endlessly toward the shore.

"Cuiviénen?" murmured Ælfwine. "It is a name I have heard here but only as a rumor of echoes of ages past. A legendary place I thought it. Does Cuiviénen exist?"

"It did," replied Círdan with a sigh. "A land of green hills, forested cliffs and the sweet music of water it was. From the quiet voices of streams winding through the fallen leaves of seasons past to the tinkling splash of silver falls descending into sapphire basins worn into the foundations of hills, the air there was ever filled with the restless song of the waters. It filled my heart with joy and long would I stand just listening to the plash and burble of the streams of Cuiviénen. The green forests called to others of my kindred, but ever did I hearken to the sounds of water."

He paused and his eyes grew bright yet distant as if he beheld some remote vision. "Long we dwelt there in happiness, where all seemed new and wondrous. And we wandered the hills and fields giving names to all we saw. The earth, its trees and grasses and waters entered into and became part of our being and thus ever did the Elves cherish and wish to preserve the loveliness of Arda. It is a part of us as we are a part of it."

"If Cuiviénen was so blessed a place then why did the Elves leave it?" asked Ælfwine.

"After a time, long perhaps in the measure of Man, but far too soon, darkness came or more truly darkness found us, for it dwelt ever in the world," said the Elf. "Clouds came and darkened the sky and the hills became stalked by evil things. Dark shapes flew overhead mantled in fire. And many feared to wander the hills for some who did so would not return. Ever and anon the screams of some fair elf who had been seized would pierce the air as we huddled together by our fires. And more than any other shadow that haunted Cuiviénen did we curse the Black Horseman for he would chase down our kin and carry them off to where we knew not."

His eyes blazed in anger. "One day I left our camp with Vilwë, a close friend, and we followed a stream down from the hills. I waded among the reeds as he ran among the nearby trees seeking to steal back the contentment which had been taken from us. And for a time we forgot the darkness and fear that had settled upon the Quendi. Then I heard a clamour and din from the camp and Vilwë cried out in pain. When I turned, there at the clearing's edge stood the Horseman on his black steed and Vilwë he held under one arm. As the shouts of the Elves from the camp drew near, he spurred his horse closer and threw back his sable hood to look down at me.

"As one of the Quendi he seemed, with black hair and bright eyes, but his mouth was drawn in a sneer. Our eyes met and I staggered as from a blow, for at that moment I saw within him the depths of his corruption; doors of black iron, walls of shadow and towers of tortured stone. For no cause but that I could think and reason he hated me and all my kind, and he sought to whelm me over with his dark thought and strip me of will so that I could not resist him. Nonetheless I leapt forward to aid my friend, but he laughed and his horse carried him away with a rush just as my kin burst into the clearing where I stood."

Círdan was silent for a long time, his jaw clenched at the foul memory. "I saw him again. Not in Cuiviénen but ages later. Messengers came from Eregion to Lindon summoning us to a council, for a stranger had come to Hollin promising gifts of skill and wonder. Our lord Gil-Galad bade Elrond and I attend the council and we journeyed long to reach that fair land. We were brought to Celebrimbor's Great Hall to meet with Annatar, the 'Lord of Gifts'. There he sat with Celebrimbor and his household, laughing and feasting amid the carved columns and tapestried walls of the Hall.

"Fair he seemed with golden hair and noble visage like some benevolent king who sought to impart his wisdom upon those who would but have his counsel. As I sat at the table, he looked up at me smiling, and from his open mind his thought reached out to me with friendship. But the fair veils that had deceived Celebrimbor and his people shifted like gauze in the wind, and of a sudden I saw those same images that I had seen ages ago; doors of black iron and walls and towers of shadow. And I knew him, if not his name, and I leapt up and my chair fell behind me with a crash. In my anger I could not find my voice and I reached for my sword for, unlawful as it might have been to assail one who comes to council in peace, I would have sought to slay him in memory of Vilwë and the Lost.

"But as was the practice in those times, I had left my blade outside the Hall and Elrond restrained me and pulled me to the door. Ere I reached the portal I contained my fury and said 'Treat not with this one for deceit is his counsel and sorrow will be the result.' But 'Annatar' responded 'I suppose manners are otherwise for those who dwell among the trees. Water should be his draught and not the heady wines of noble Eregion.' And many laughed but Elrond looked back as 'Annatar' smiled and saw that his eyes blazed and read therein a hatred for all who walked free. Thus when I told Elrond my tale, he believed me and we counseled Gil-Galad to close his kingdom to the Bringer of Gifts. But Celebrimbor in his pride and desire for knowledge would not credit my words . . . " Círdan's voice trailed off in sadness and his head dropped until his eyes could not be seen.

"You read his thought? How is that possible?" asked Ælfwine when Círdan looked up at last.

"The skill is known as Ósanwë among my people and all free speaking peoples possess it in some measure, if they can recognize it. Even Men possess some semblance of the skill, but few are they who can use Ósanwë, which is difficult even for the Eldar," replied Círdan.

They sat quietly on the wall, each lost in thought for a moment. The dark-haired Elf remained silent where he stood, facing the wind which blew in from the sea. At times he would rub his hands together as if they pained him. At length Ælfwine stirred.

"How did the Quendi escape the darkness which had fallen on Cuiviénen?" he asked. "Did you flee that land to some fairer place?"

Círdan smiled. "We did not flee. We knew not where we could go. But then we were found by Oromë and the Valar protected us until we were summoned into the West and Morgoth, the dark lord, had been jailed in Mandos. But even then, some remained behind and others turned aside on the long road which led to the sea. Many we never saw again."

"What befell those who remained behind? Could some enclave of the Quendi yet reside in my world? There are many tales of magical beings told among my people. Might Elves yet live in Middle Earth?" queried Ælfwine.

"We do not know what befell those who remained behind though many who turned aside ultimately joined us in the West," responded Círdan. "Some say many who feared the West were at last taken by Sauron whom the Valar found not when Utumno was overthrown, and that all the Lost were corrupted and become the seed of the foul race of orcs. Others hold otherwise and say the orcs were bred from animals given cunning by spirits unknown and later joined with some of the race of Men. Of those not taken by the darkness, some say that the Elves who forever forsook the West became worn by the trials of the world until they faded and their hröar, their bodies, disappeared leaving their fëar, their spirits, to wander houseless roaming with regret and living amid the memories of the past.

"The Quendi loved Middle Earth and many were loathe to leave. This was and remains our nature. Stone and hill, tree and leaf, flower and stalk, droplet and stream pierce us to our cores each to his own measure. And love we give in return and impart our own essence into our surroundings, giving as we receive. To leave any place where we have long dwelt is hard, for to depart is to leave some portion of ourselves behind.

"Mere words do not pass on the depth of such feelings. Men do not understand this; even the Valar do not wholly grasp this aspect of our nature, naming us 'willful' or 'wayward' though we are as Eru intended. Thus Turgon could not leave Gondolin even at the urging of Ulmo himself and Celebrimbor could not abandon Eregion even at the last.

"Even I almost turned aside," he mused. "During the long journey from Cuiviénen into the West, we came upon a mighty river, the Anduin, and I was overcome by the joy of its music. I leaped into its waters and floated downstream and almost resolved to dwell beside its banks. But some inner voice told me my fate was otherwise and bade me continue on. So I left Anduin behind with regret and continued on to Beleriand.

"The Teleri were the last house of the Quendi to arrive in that fair land and I was late even among the Teleri. When I crossed the Blue Mountains and entered Beleriand my lord Elwë had disappeared in its forests and many sought for him, but I continued on to the fringes of the land and came to the great sea. In the distance I saw the lights of fires and lanterns twinkling on this island as it was drawn away into the West and with it were many of my kin. I bemoaned my fortune and wondered how I might cross the ocean into the West. And a voice came within me, and whether it was some inner voice or a message from the Valar I knew not, but it bade me to live by the sea so that I might ever succor those of the Quendi who might come to me, lost or left behind, until the last of my people resolved to leave the world. I rejoiced then for I loved the sea and its myriad colors and moods and voices and so I dwelt on the shores of Middle Earth until the Last Ship departed and no others would willingly pass into the West."

"How could you know there were no others willing to go?" wondered Ælfwine.

"One night," Círdan responded, "when many years, had passed without any of my kindred arriving at my halls, a great wind arose and the sea surged. The lines which held the one remaining ship at her dock snapped and the winds filled its white sails. But the ship did not move from its place. And from the West came a great eagle which folded its wings and plummeted down only to land on the very rail of the ship. It looked at me with its bright eyes and spread its wings wide. Then with a great cry it leaped to the air and sped back into the West just as the sudden storm died. And suddenly I knew the time had come and all who remained should now depart." Círdan paused and smiled at his companion who stood silently by.

"Then those few who remained, Teleri and the Noldo, the tarriers and the rebel, gathered such things as they would not leave behind and took ship. For we knew our time was done and all grievances forgiven. And the Havens lay silent and empty behind us."

The wind blew their hair as the sun westered and the sea birds clamored in the skies above. A swan ship cut through the waves, spray leaping from its prow as it left the harbour. The sun gleamed in Círdan's hair as his bright eyes turned to the sea.

Ælfwine frowned slightly in puzzlement. "What rebel do you speak of?" he asked. "I have heard of the rebellion of the Noldor and the ban against their return. But the ban was lifted, and I am told all departed soon after the end of the Third Age."

"The ban was lifted as to all but one," responded Círdan. "One remained behind and did not return. But by the time the Last Ship sailed even he was pardoned." Círdan turned to his silent companion and said "This, Ælfwine, is Maglor, son of Fëanor."

TO BE CONTINUED