Irmo and Nienna, now in disguise as musicians of the Teleri, arrive in Alqualondë in a secluded valley near the outskirts of the city. Snow falls down among them as they spy a ship approaching the harbor. Estilin checks himself, paying close attention to his bodily motions, as he walks through the snow towards the harbor, accompanied by his sister.
“Do you see it, brother?” asks Apakenwë. “It looks like one of the swan ships?” They move on through the edges of town, past the eerily deserted market beside the docks.
Estelin nods. "Aye," he says, speaking carefully, making sure his voice mimics that of the Teleri. "It seems so. The design is beautiful, and its craftsmanship is surely that of the Teleri." Estelin follows his sister further through the market: the cold and snow does not affect him whatsoever.
From his seat on the deck of Nolë's swan ship, Olwë beholds the docks of his beloved Alqualondë the Swanhaven. As always, when returning home, a familiar lump forms in his throat. But this time, unlike any other, a sick feeling grips his stomach. This may be the last time he beholds this view of his beloved home. Olwë stands up, and shivers, not from the cold. Snow has blanketed his beloved Alqualondë in his absence, and the brilliance of the snow, reflecting the sun’s rays cause his eyes to water and squint. Olwë's eyes fasten upon the familar sights, the smell of the sea water, and the sharpness of the chill air. The voice slides and scratches at the corner of his mind as he tries with all his might to keep his mind upon this ...what may be his last view of Alqualondë this way.
At the harbor, Apakenwë carefully maneuvers up the stairs -- stairs are tricky -- and finds a spot on at the railing from which to watch the ship. Estelin stands beside his sister, and sees Teleri on the deck of the swanship. He smiles. "I think we chose our disguise well," he whispers to his sister. Apakenwë responds, “I hope so. But what do we do now? Musicians would not just walk up to a ship docking, would they?”
"I do not know, sister. I would suspect that kin would welcome others home. Perhaps we should approach."
“Kin ... I haven't seen anyone at all."
Estelin looks around the empty city. "Aye, there seems to be no one else here."
Apakenwë nods to the suggestion of approaching -- a bit nervously. Now is the time when the plan will succeed or fail.
Nolë moves smoothly from one task to another, bringing the ship, and its passengers, safe again to the docks of the Swanhaven. Olwë casts a look down...spiders were crawling everywhere...over his boots, on his tunic. He felt them on shoulders. He jumps and brushes at his clothes, at the arachnids no one else can see. No, he thinks, I will not be denied this one last look of my home. And he ignores the feel of legs upon his body, the laughter of the voice to drink it the sigh of his home. The sound of a gangplank being pushed into place captures Olwë's attention, and he springs, lithe as a young sailor, to help Nolë steady the plank and moor the ship. They work together in a grim silence. There are no words, now, for what each Teleri felt, thought. They are home, and yet, for all its glittering beauty, it seems that the Swanhaven is, too, waiting in wary and fearful anticipation, grim and determined to face what must be. Olwë is the first to disembark. Elenwe was somewhere below, gathering up belongings, potions that the healers of Sylvahara had sent to keep Olwë as comfortable as possible. The voice slithered and slid around Olwë's mind. "Welcome home," it hissed."
Estelin descends to the quay, sees a tall noble Teleri standing there, and two others. He sighs deeply,, whispers Eru's name silently, and then approaches. Apakenwë follows Estelin down to the dock. Olwë waits upon the docks for his companions, slapping at the spiders and packing. Looking up he see two Teleri approaching. He peers at them, curiously. Olwë stares frankly at them and at first cocks his head, as though hearing a voice. He shakes his head. "No, they are not here to kill me...not yet."
Apakenwë responds. “Kill you, Lord? No one wants to kill you.” She looks around. “But are there none to welcome you?”
Estelin stutters a greeting, looking upon the tall one. His actions seemed unusual, different from the other two.
Olwë looks up. "You heard it? The voice? It speaks, but no one hears save me." Nolël
“Do you see it, brother?” asks Apakenwë. “It looks like one of the swan ships?” They move on through the edges of town, past the eerily deserted market beside the docks.
Estelin nods. "Aye," he says, speaking carefully, making sure his voice mimics that of the Teleri. "It seems so. The design is beautiful, and its craftsmanship is surely that of the Teleri." Estelin follows his sister further through the market: the cold and snow does not affect him whatsoever.
From his seat on the deck of Nolë's swan ship, Olwë beholds the docks of his beloved Alqualondë the Swanhaven. As always, when returning home, a familiar lump forms in his throat. But this time, unlike any other, a sick feeling grips his stomach. This may be the last time he beholds this view of his beloved home. Olwë stands up, and shivers, not from the cold. Snow has blanketed his beloved Alqualondë in his absence, and the brilliance of the snow, reflecting the sun’s rays cause his eyes to water and squint. Olwë's eyes fasten upon the familar sights, the smell of the sea water, and the sharpness of the chill air. The voice slides and scratches at the corner of his mind as he tries with all his might to keep his mind upon this ...what may be his last view of Alqualondë this way.
At the harbor, Apakenwë carefully maneuvers up the stairs -- stairs are tricky -- and finds a spot on at the railing from which to watch the ship. Estelin stands beside his sister, and sees Teleri on the deck of the swanship. He smiles. "I think we chose our disguise well," he whispers to his sister. Apakenwë responds, “I hope so. But what do we do now? Musicians would not just walk up to a ship docking, would they?”
"I do not know, sister. I would suspect that kin would welcome others home. Perhaps we should approach."
“Kin ... I haven't seen anyone at all."
Estelin looks around the empty city. "Aye, there seems to be no one else here."
Apakenwë nods to the suggestion of approaching -- a bit nervously. Now is the time when the plan will succeed or fail.
Nolë moves smoothly from one task to another, bringing the ship, and its passengers, safe again to the docks of the Swanhaven. Olwë casts a look down...spiders were crawling everywhere...over his boots, on his tunic. He felt them on shoulders. He jumps and brushes at his clothes, at the arachnids no one else can see. No, he thinks, I will not be denied this one last look of my home. And he ignores the feel of legs upon his body, the laughter of the voice to drink it the sigh of his home. The sound of a gangplank being pushed into place captures Olwë's attention, and he springs, lithe as a young sailor, to help Nolë steady the plank and moor the ship. They work together in a grim silence. There are no words, now, for what each Teleri felt, thought. They are home, and yet, for all its glittering beauty, it seems that the Swanhaven is, too, waiting in wary and fearful anticipation, grim and determined to face what must be. Olwë is the first to disembark. Elenwe was somewhere below, gathering up belongings, potions that the healers of Sylvahara had sent to keep Olwë as comfortable as possible. The voice slithered and slid around Olwë's mind. "Welcome home," it hissed."
Estelin descends to the quay, sees a tall noble Teleri standing there, and two others. He sighs deeply,, whispers Eru's name silently, and then approaches. Apakenwë follows Estelin down to the dock. Olwë waits upon the docks for his companions, slapping at the spiders and packing. Looking up he see two Teleri approaching. He peers at them, curiously. Olwë stares frankly at them and at first cocks his head, as though hearing a voice. He shakes his head. "No, they are not here to kill me...not yet."
Apakenwë responds. “Kill you, Lord? No one wants to kill you.” She looks around. “But are there none to welcome you?”
Estelin stutters a greeting, looking upon the tall one. His actions seemed unusual, different from the other two.
Olwë looks up. "You heard it? The voice? It speaks, but no one hears save me." Nolël
looks up, wide-eyed at seeing two others on the dock. He silently watches.
"No, Lord, I heard no voice." Apakenwë looks keenly at him, but it is forbidden to pry into his mind beyond what he wishes to make known.
Olwë picks up his foot and brings his boot down, as though he was squashing something beneath his feet. "There, you will trouble me no more." He looks up sidewise at the two strangers. "Do I...do I know you?” He looks back, hapless, at Nolë and Elenwe, as if to ask the identity of the two before him.
“I think not, Lord. We are newly arrived in this city -- travelling musicians,” answers Apakenwë. Estelin looks briefly at his sister, before answering, hoping they connect. "We are... musicians, Lord. Our ship just landed not long ago," he said, at nearly the same instant as his sister.
Nolë disembarks, standing by his king. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come forth. Olwë looks back at the slender Teleri beauty before him and then at her brother. He clenches and unclenches his hands and lowers his gaze, closing his eyes and knitting his brow in concentration. When he next spoke, his words were calmer but still he pace restlessly. "I would you had found us before, my friends. For Alqualondë once breathed music as it did the very air. But that was long ago, long ago. Now there is the silence and the killing, and the dying. Now there are only grim stories such as would make grown elves weep."
Apakenwë nods to her brother. "Then we have come at exactly the right time. This is a city that needs our music."
Estelin added, "Lord, we have been away. Perhaps we could provide your company with music to lessen the cold, and bring life to the silence."
Olwë throws his head back, flings out his arms and twirls, laughing. "Yes, music, yes. Let Alqualondë ring with music. Perhaps the birds may learn a new tune." Apakenwë looks at her brother again, this time doubtfully. This lord seems rather unbalanced. Olwë claps Nolë on the shoulder, and his expression is with an odd glee. "Perhaps we can drink and dance one more time, eh, my friend? One last time before..."his voice trails off, and he looks back at the musicians. "Welcome to Alqualondë. We shall have plenty of room for you, good minstrels, if you would play to an empty crowd." He shakes his head. "For only ghosts walk here now. Perhaps soon one more to add."
Nolë reaches out to his King's arm, and tried to steady him. He smiles as he claps him o the shoulder. "Yes, my king, let us drink and dance."
Estelin smiles. “We would be happy to play before your company.
Olwë smiles indulgently at the beloved merchant and squeezes his shoulder for a moment. Then he drops his hand away and walks up to the two musicians. Before he reaches them, he shakes his head and pauses. A serious look, much different comes over his face, and he drops to one knee. Bowing his head, Olwë says softly, with great feeling. "Blessed Eru, hear this, your child, come home again. Please and keep my people, wherever they are this night. Keep them safe, keep them close. Bring them home, I beg you. I submit to all that will come and ask only this,only this. Spare the Teleri. Take me. Let your will be mine to obey, but bring them home, I pray." He looks up and squints at them but then shakes his head and slowly rises.
Apakenwë whispers to the sailor, "Is this indeed King Olwë of the Teleri?" Nolë nods. "His actions have changed much since our events in Sylvhara, but no matter what happens, he is my King."
Apakenwë is touched by the king's prayer. "Have no doubt, King, that Eru hears."
Estelin reaches forward for the tall Teleri's hand. "Lord.. er King," he stammers, "let us assist you to some place warm, and out of the wind." Olwë grabs the arm of Estelin by the wrist and pulls him in to whisper to him. "There is a great darkness come, bard. A hard and terrible darkness. All around me think i am mad, possessed, crazed. And they are right.." he pauses. "But never doubt that it is coming."
"Coming... Coming my King" using the same words Nolë used for Olwë. "What is coming?" Estelin asks urgently, looking into Olwë's eyes.
"Look you, for the morning star, for it is gone, Apakenwë. The voice told me it would disappear." He drops his voice and answers Estelin. "A dark time, friend. A dark time. The rise of an Enemy of all the Children of Illuvatar. And he claims I am his...but I will die as I have lived. A child of Eru." Olwë continues talking, almost to himself. "Or is it a she?" He pauses. "In truth, the voice is a voice is a voice. I have never seen what owns it."
Estelin: turns to his sister "an Enemy of all the Children." A darkness clouds his face. "Eru will protect you, and he hears your prayer. "
Olwë leans forward. "Do you think Manwe will save me? That the Valar will not turn their face from me?" There is the look of one lost. "For it says, that th Valar shall abandon me. But I would know if they came, would I not? They would not leave me so?" He looks deep into Estelin's eyes.
Beralai Levee presents himself to the group of elves and smiles briskly," I have been sent as aid from my Ilharess. Do with me whatever you desire." He tossed his hair over his right eye, his irises flickering to scan each person separately
Olwë's eyes take in the stranger , and Olwë raises a hand, his voice loud, commanding and angry. "Who are you?" he roars. "You are not one of my people. How came you here?"
"The valar will never abandon one of their Children... " Estelin stops speaking, looking up from Olwë to the new stranger.
“The Valar have not forgotten. Eru has not forgotten. Have confidence,” reassures his sister, before turning to see what had attracted her brother’s attention.
Olwë gentles for a moment, at their reassurances and murmurs, "The will of the Valar be done. So long as I have breath."
Beralai Levee holds his hands up feebly, his palms turned up to show he had no weapons. The childishly innocent smile that played across his face rang of assurance as his honey sweet voice flickered through the air," Your dark cousin from the caves sends her love."
“What matter of being are you?" Estelin demands to the stranger. Olwë grabs Estelin's arm. "There was a dark skinned elf maiden. She heard the voice, but it tormented her not." Louder, he asks," Be you from she?"
Beralai Levee gives the man a gentle glance, before pointing to himself. " Usstan drow. I am of the dark maiden. I come as aid." His lips moved slowly, his pink tongue ringing true with every word as it moved behind his bright teeth. He smiled again, his eyes twinkling with a look of mischief. Estelin looks confused, trying to understand the significance of dark skinned elves. Olwë strides forward. "I did see her. I did. In a cave. She was not illusion!"
“Are you saying one of their kind is tormenting you, good KIng?" asks Estelin.
Beralai Levee lays his palm open to the man, holding it out as if offering himself to be touched. "I come bearing no ill will, I am no illusion or harmful spirit."
Olwë grabs the drow by the shoulder and peers intently into his face. Dropping his voice to whisper, he asks." And she still hears the Voice. It still torments her as it does me? Has she seen the morning star blotted from the sky? Do spiders still dog her steps as they do mine?" He squeezes the drow's shoulder, cocks his head, as though to listen to an unseen voice."
Apakenwë looks at her brother in confusion. Estelin catches his sister's look, but his gaze remains focused on the situation before them.
Olwë turns to Apakenwë. His face grows gentle and sad, and his eyes look into hers. "I have come home to surrender my life, sweet musician." He reaches as though to take her hand. "I have failed my people, and I have failed the Valar. And about me is all darkness."
Beralai Levee raises his hand and lays it gingerly on the man's shoulder, his fingers splaying over the shoulder piece gently. His eyes widened compassionately, his smile shortening into a more formal and concerned look," She complains nightly, however the sky is not visible from our loft." He gives a gentle smile, cringing unnoticeably as he spoke," I have never slain so many spiders as last night...."
"You wish to surrender your life? How can this be?" asks Apakenwë. Surely this is more evidence that the king has lost his mind.
Estelin nods curtly at the stranger before them. "What aid do you intend to provide.?"
Olwë turns at Beralai's words and nods. "They have grown in number and strength. Ungoliant’s little descendants. The voice commands them." He turns to the others on the dock. "Now, do you believe me?" He looks at the fair musician. "No, by Blessed Eru, I wish to live near as much as I wish to behold the one who holds my heart once more. But a mad king cannot be allowed to live. And I cannot hear or touch or see the Valar as once I did. I am blind and deaf to them all. And though I have beseeched the Lord of the West to hear me, only a silent cold wind answers." Olwë brushes at his clothes, muttering angrily, "No, no, they will not leave me in darkness. I don't believe you."
Beralai Levee holds his hands up in shock: his eyes going wide as he spoke in rapid succession." No! I was sent to help silence the voice! I have been given medicines from my Illharess that will ease your suffering!" He scrambles through a pocket on his leather breeches before narrowing his eye brows." If I may be excused for a moment, I believe I left them in my satchel."
Only Blessed Eru and his faithful Valar may save me, now, my friend." Olwë turns gently. "Your dark skinned sweet maid needs them more than I."
"Have confidence, King," Apakenwë repeats. "Eru hears you. The Valar hear."
Olwë looks over and, this time, does take her hand and gently squeezes. "I wish i could feel his love and warmth once more."
Beralai Levee shakes his head," She has doses of her own! She would be quite angry if I were to deny her ally all the aid I can afford." He smiled for a moment, a reassuring smile the pulled his dark lips tight with the effort. He turned, the bounded away as he ran off to collect his satchel.
Nolë steps up to the head of the quay, protecting the king. Olwë turns to Nolë. For a moment, a clearheaded Olwë asks, "How did he find us, Nolë?"
"My King, I do not know. I am sure he was not on board. I know my ship."
Apakenwë added, “We saw no one when we arrived."
Beralai Levee struggles back, carrying a heavy brown sack full of innumerable objects. He sighed, sitting the large brown bag on the ground. He ruffles through it before drawing out a slender blade, ceremonial and embellished as well as a slim vial of liquid. Within the liquid floated a single flower petal, dancing gently with the sway of his hand. Olwë backs up...eying the liquid. "No, no, no more potions, no more draughts, no more 'cures.'”
Beralai Levee gives the man a wide-eyed look and drops the dagger accidently. He dances out of the way as it plummets, blade down, almost stabbing him in the foot. He cries out instantly," Sorry! Sorry! I was told by the Ilharess that you were in desperate need of this potion. Something about a dream and a location and the potion and the blood markings. It was a huge quick speech and then BAM! I was out of the cave and up here in the harsh light!"
This catches Apakenwë's attention. She was not aware any of the Children could travel without their physical bodies. Or was that what he meant? Estelin maintains his gaze on the dark-skinned elf, looking for answers. Beralai Levee rubs the back of his head slowly, as if he had received a recent blow to the nape of his neck. " You have no idea how difficult it was to get here! And the sunlight! It’s so bright! As if someone were lighting the entire world on fire!"
Olwë gives the drow a long look, chewing his bottom lip for a moment, weighing his words. "I thank you, but I am in Eru's hands now." He frowns at Beralai's words. "How did you find Alqualondë?" Apakenwë wonders to herself if there are any besides the slaves of Melkor bothered by sunlight?
Beralai Levee bites his lip, giving them a gentle look," To be honest it was all a big blur. She was shouting at me, and then poof! I went through a cloud of purple and landed over there!" He points off into the distance, tossing his snow white hair lightly. Laughing lightly he adds," The satchel actually landed on top of me when I arrived!"
"Olwë is in Eru's hands, stranger. Your aid is not needed." Estelin found he has taken a disliking to the stranger and is becoming worried about Olwë's condition in the cold.
Beralai Levee frowns at what he assumed was a female surfacer," Well I can't very well go back! My hide will be torn for my incompetence at helping the male, but I can't really change your minds.. That wasn't part of the job last time I checked... Just a messenger."
Olwë watches the dark-skinned elf, his pacing increasing. He pauses to stomp at the plank, now and again, muttering to himself. He looks back at Nolë and the others. "Perhaps our dark-skinned cousin should stay here, for the moment." Olwë turns to Estelin. "It is odd how the dark elves love not the light of Arien nor the moon of Tilion but prefer the darkness of caverns and caves, as though to secret themselves away."
Beralai Levee leans down and stashes the ceremonial blade back in the brown satchel in case he was asked to aid the male later. “Never know with these surfacers,” he thinks to himself, pouting lightly as he cinches up the brown bag. Olwë continues to talk. "But if you can travel so, perhaps it is by the will of the Valar, and to them you should be conveyed, to give unto Manwe a report of your dark elf maid and her torments."
Beralai Levee smiles and nods," I am actually beloved by my Illharess for my skills with oration." He pulls the brown bag over his shoulder and waits to be pointed in whichever direction he was to travel. Apakenwë knows the Valar have nothing to do with this transportation, but she can hardly say so under present circumstances. Olwë paces, and wraps his arms around himself, hugging himself tightly. He cocks his head and answers questions no one can hear. "No, I won't submit. I won't bow to you. I won't drink the dark elf's potion. A sip was what cause this....why should I take another? " He pauses and continues. "I tell you, I will remain a child of Eru, Dark One." Olwë looks at the drow. "I'm cold, and wet, and the musicians promised to play. You should go or stay."
Beralai Levee frowns, a worried look crossing his face as if he had some insight into the male's thoughts. He had seen the voice of chaos before, heard of its inner workings and how it drove men and elves to madness. He also knew how easily the potion could prevent this. He shuddered slightly, his thoughts still on the 'disease' the male had as he nodded vigorously," I will stay."
He waves a hand and turns to Apakenwë. "Would you like to see the palace?" he asks, smiling shyly. His eyes are too white, too wild. “Yes,” she answers. “Let us go to the palace.”
"King Olwë, you will forever remain a Child of Illuvatar. " Estelin says reassuringly. Turning to the dark-skinned elf, he says, "Will you stay here, in this sun lit world, and hear the music we are about to play, and drink an dbe merry with us this day."
Olwë turns to Estelin and smiles. "I shall. Please remember that always."
Nolë helps his king stand steadily. Beralai Levee nods vigorously, not quite sure of what a palace was. He shrugged it off, ready to tackle this giant ball of bright flames one place at a time. Olwë smiles at Apakenwë and gently takes her hand and tucks it un under his elbow and on his arm. He claps a hand on Nolë's shoulder and squeezes. "Yes, please. I feel very tired. Very tired."
“Yes, I am weary as well.” Estelin tries to mimic this with his bodily functions. "Let us go to the palace."
Beralai Levee stands to the side, wondering which way they would head. Olwë blushes and for a moment, he wrinkles his nose. "Hard tack and water from different sources play hard upon the body, my friend." He pauses and looks at Estelin. "You are well, I hope?"
Estelin smiles and feels a warm feeling on his cheeks. "Yes, my king." He tries to figure out what this feeling is. "I am well."
Olwë looks at them both, brother and sister. "You must always heat the water thoroughly before you drink from any stream or cook." Apakenwë listens attentively, to directions on how one is supposed to eat and cook. She hopes not much of that will be required.
Nolë leads the group to the palace, anxious to get out of the cold and wet. Olwë walks away with Nolë and Apakenwë then pauses.....He turns to Nolë. Beralai Levee remains quiet, his facial features relaxing as he gently closed his eyes. He thought deeply, his pupils flickering left and right behind his eyelids. He pinches his lips lightly, wondering how his Illharess is fairing.
"Nolë?"
“Yes, my King?”
"You must now send a swan to Eärwen. She must prepare to come to Alqualondë." His voice is quiet, and his eyes moist. "I want to live. By Blessed Eru, I want to live. I want to see and touch and be with Tilion once more. I want my people restored." He tightens his grip on Nolë's shoulder. "But I must also steel myself to let my will be the Valar's and Eru's...not this dark voice."
Beralai Levee pouts, knowing the aid the man desperately needed he would not accept. His eyes cast to the ground, wondering if the man would come to his senses before chaos drove him into permanent darkness.
"If that means all I am, then all I am, I will give. But to Eru, not this Dark One. Tell..." he takes a deep breath." Tell Tilion that I loved him with my last breath, if it comes to that."
Nolë listens attentively, then with one last clasp on Olwë's shoulder before he goes to the Swanry to deliver the message.
> Next
"No, Lord, I heard no voice." Apakenwë looks keenly at him, but it is forbidden to pry into his mind beyond what he wishes to make known.
Olwë picks up his foot and brings his boot down, as though he was squashing something beneath his feet. "There, you will trouble me no more." He looks up sidewise at the two strangers. "Do I...do I know you?” He looks back, hapless, at Nolë and Elenwe, as if to ask the identity of the two before him.
“I think not, Lord. We are newly arrived in this city -- travelling musicians,” answers Apakenwë. Estelin looks briefly at his sister, before answering, hoping they connect. "We are... musicians, Lord. Our ship just landed not long ago," he said, at nearly the same instant as his sister.
Nolë disembarks, standing by his king. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come forth. Olwë looks back at the slender Teleri beauty before him and then at her brother. He clenches and unclenches his hands and lowers his gaze, closing his eyes and knitting his brow in concentration. When he next spoke, his words were calmer but still he pace restlessly. "I would you had found us before, my friends. For Alqualondë once breathed music as it did the very air. But that was long ago, long ago. Now there is the silence and the killing, and the dying. Now there are only grim stories such as would make grown elves weep."
Apakenwë nods to her brother. "Then we have come at exactly the right time. This is a city that needs our music."
Estelin added, "Lord, we have been away. Perhaps we could provide your company with music to lessen the cold, and bring life to the silence."
Olwë throws his head back, flings out his arms and twirls, laughing. "Yes, music, yes. Let Alqualondë ring with music. Perhaps the birds may learn a new tune." Apakenwë looks at her brother again, this time doubtfully. This lord seems rather unbalanced. Olwë claps Nolë on the shoulder, and his expression is with an odd glee. "Perhaps we can drink and dance one more time, eh, my friend? One last time before..."his voice trails off, and he looks back at the musicians. "Welcome to Alqualondë. We shall have plenty of room for you, good minstrels, if you would play to an empty crowd." He shakes his head. "For only ghosts walk here now. Perhaps soon one more to add."
Nolë reaches out to his King's arm, and tried to steady him. He smiles as he claps him o the shoulder. "Yes, my king, let us drink and dance."
Estelin smiles. “We would be happy to play before your company.
Olwë smiles indulgently at the beloved merchant and squeezes his shoulder for a moment. Then he drops his hand away and walks up to the two musicians. Before he reaches them, he shakes his head and pauses. A serious look, much different comes over his face, and he drops to one knee. Bowing his head, Olwë says softly, with great feeling. "Blessed Eru, hear this, your child, come home again. Please and keep my people, wherever they are this night. Keep them safe, keep them close. Bring them home, I beg you. I submit to all that will come and ask only this,only this. Spare the Teleri. Take me. Let your will be mine to obey, but bring them home, I pray." He looks up and squints at them but then shakes his head and slowly rises.
Apakenwë whispers to the sailor, "Is this indeed King Olwë of the Teleri?" Nolë nods. "His actions have changed much since our events in Sylvhara, but no matter what happens, he is my King."
Apakenwë is touched by the king's prayer. "Have no doubt, King, that Eru hears."
Estelin reaches forward for the tall Teleri's hand. "Lord.. er King," he stammers, "let us assist you to some place warm, and out of the wind." Olwë grabs the arm of Estelin by the wrist and pulls him in to whisper to him. "There is a great darkness come, bard. A hard and terrible darkness. All around me think i am mad, possessed, crazed. And they are right.." he pauses. "But never doubt that it is coming."
"Coming... Coming my King" using the same words Nolë used for Olwë. "What is coming?" Estelin asks urgently, looking into Olwë's eyes.
"Look you, for the morning star, for it is gone, Apakenwë. The voice told me it would disappear." He drops his voice and answers Estelin. "A dark time, friend. A dark time. The rise of an Enemy of all the Children of Illuvatar. And he claims I am his...but I will die as I have lived. A child of Eru." Olwë continues talking, almost to himself. "Or is it a she?" He pauses. "In truth, the voice is a voice is a voice. I have never seen what owns it."
Estelin: turns to his sister "an Enemy of all the Children." A darkness clouds his face. "Eru will protect you, and he hears your prayer. "
Olwë leans forward. "Do you think Manwe will save me? That the Valar will not turn their face from me?" There is the look of one lost. "For it says, that th Valar shall abandon me. But I would know if they came, would I not? They would not leave me so?" He looks deep into Estelin's eyes.
Beralai Levee presents himself to the group of elves and smiles briskly," I have been sent as aid from my Ilharess. Do with me whatever you desire." He tossed his hair over his right eye, his irises flickering to scan each person separately
Olwë's eyes take in the stranger , and Olwë raises a hand, his voice loud, commanding and angry. "Who are you?" he roars. "You are not one of my people. How came you here?"
"The valar will never abandon one of their Children... " Estelin stops speaking, looking up from Olwë to the new stranger.
“The Valar have not forgotten. Eru has not forgotten. Have confidence,” reassures his sister, before turning to see what had attracted her brother’s attention.
Olwë gentles for a moment, at their reassurances and murmurs, "The will of the Valar be done. So long as I have breath."
Beralai Levee holds his hands up feebly, his palms turned up to show he had no weapons. The childishly innocent smile that played across his face rang of assurance as his honey sweet voice flickered through the air," Your dark cousin from the caves sends her love."
“What matter of being are you?" Estelin demands to the stranger. Olwë grabs Estelin's arm. "There was a dark skinned elf maiden. She heard the voice, but it tormented her not." Louder, he asks," Be you from she?"
Beralai Levee gives the man a gentle glance, before pointing to himself. " Usstan drow. I am of the dark maiden. I come as aid." His lips moved slowly, his pink tongue ringing true with every word as it moved behind his bright teeth. He smiled again, his eyes twinkling with a look of mischief. Estelin looks confused, trying to understand the significance of dark skinned elves. Olwë strides forward. "I did see her. I did. In a cave. She was not illusion!"
“Are you saying one of their kind is tormenting you, good KIng?" asks Estelin.
Beralai Levee lays his palm open to the man, holding it out as if offering himself to be touched. "I come bearing no ill will, I am no illusion or harmful spirit."
Olwë grabs the drow by the shoulder and peers intently into his face. Dropping his voice to whisper, he asks." And she still hears the Voice. It still torments her as it does me? Has she seen the morning star blotted from the sky? Do spiders still dog her steps as they do mine?" He squeezes the drow's shoulder, cocks his head, as though to listen to an unseen voice."
Apakenwë looks at her brother in confusion. Estelin catches his sister's look, but his gaze remains focused on the situation before them.
Olwë turns to Apakenwë. His face grows gentle and sad, and his eyes look into hers. "I have come home to surrender my life, sweet musician." He reaches as though to take her hand. "I have failed my people, and I have failed the Valar. And about me is all darkness."
Beralai Levee raises his hand and lays it gingerly on the man's shoulder, his fingers splaying over the shoulder piece gently. His eyes widened compassionately, his smile shortening into a more formal and concerned look," She complains nightly, however the sky is not visible from our loft." He gives a gentle smile, cringing unnoticeably as he spoke," I have never slain so many spiders as last night...."
"You wish to surrender your life? How can this be?" asks Apakenwë. Surely this is more evidence that the king has lost his mind.
Estelin nods curtly at the stranger before them. "What aid do you intend to provide.?"
Olwë turns at Beralai's words and nods. "They have grown in number and strength. Ungoliant’s little descendants. The voice commands them." He turns to the others on the dock. "Now, do you believe me?" He looks at the fair musician. "No, by Blessed Eru, I wish to live near as much as I wish to behold the one who holds my heart once more. But a mad king cannot be allowed to live. And I cannot hear or touch or see the Valar as once I did. I am blind and deaf to them all. And though I have beseeched the Lord of the West to hear me, only a silent cold wind answers." Olwë brushes at his clothes, muttering angrily, "No, no, they will not leave me in darkness. I don't believe you."
Beralai Levee holds his hands up in shock: his eyes going wide as he spoke in rapid succession." No! I was sent to help silence the voice! I have been given medicines from my Illharess that will ease your suffering!" He scrambles through a pocket on his leather breeches before narrowing his eye brows." If I may be excused for a moment, I believe I left them in my satchel."
Only Blessed Eru and his faithful Valar may save me, now, my friend." Olwë turns gently. "Your dark skinned sweet maid needs them more than I."
"Have confidence, King," Apakenwë repeats. "Eru hears you. The Valar hear."
Olwë looks over and, this time, does take her hand and gently squeezes. "I wish i could feel his love and warmth once more."
Beralai Levee shakes his head," She has doses of her own! She would be quite angry if I were to deny her ally all the aid I can afford." He smiled for a moment, a reassuring smile the pulled his dark lips tight with the effort. He turned, the bounded away as he ran off to collect his satchel.
Nolë steps up to the head of the quay, protecting the king. Olwë turns to Nolë. For a moment, a clearheaded Olwë asks, "How did he find us, Nolë?"
"My King, I do not know. I am sure he was not on board. I know my ship."
Apakenwë added, “We saw no one when we arrived."
Beralai Levee struggles back, carrying a heavy brown sack full of innumerable objects. He sighed, sitting the large brown bag on the ground. He ruffles through it before drawing out a slender blade, ceremonial and embellished as well as a slim vial of liquid. Within the liquid floated a single flower petal, dancing gently with the sway of his hand. Olwë backs up...eying the liquid. "No, no, no more potions, no more draughts, no more 'cures.'”
Beralai Levee gives the man a wide-eyed look and drops the dagger accidently. He dances out of the way as it plummets, blade down, almost stabbing him in the foot. He cries out instantly," Sorry! Sorry! I was told by the Ilharess that you were in desperate need of this potion. Something about a dream and a location and the potion and the blood markings. It was a huge quick speech and then BAM! I was out of the cave and up here in the harsh light!"
This catches Apakenwë's attention. She was not aware any of the Children could travel without their physical bodies. Or was that what he meant? Estelin maintains his gaze on the dark-skinned elf, looking for answers. Beralai Levee rubs the back of his head slowly, as if he had received a recent blow to the nape of his neck. " You have no idea how difficult it was to get here! And the sunlight! It’s so bright! As if someone were lighting the entire world on fire!"
Olwë gives the drow a long look, chewing his bottom lip for a moment, weighing his words. "I thank you, but I am in Eru's hands now." He frowns at Beralai's words. "How did you find Alqualondë?" Apakenwë wonders to herself if there are any besides the slaves of Melkor bothered by sunlight?
Beralai Levee bites his lip, giving them a gentle look," To be honest it was all a big blur. She was shouting at me, and then poof! I went through a cloud of purple and landed over there!" He points off into the distance, tossing his snow white hair lightly. Laughing lightly he adds," The satchel actually landed on top of me when I arrived!"
"Olwë is in Eru's hands, stranger. Your aid is not needed." Estelin found he has taken a disliking to the stranger and is becoming worried about Olwë's condition in the cold.
Beralai Levee frowns at what he assumed was a female surfacer," Well I can't very well go back! My hide will be torn for my incompetence at helping the male, but I can't really change your minds.. That wasn't part of the job last time I checked... Just a messenger."
Olwë watches the dark-skinned elf, his pacing increasing. He pauses to stomp at the plank, now and again, muttering to himself. He looks back at Nolë and the others. "Perhaps our dark-skinned cousin should stay here, for the moment." Olwë turns to Estelin. "It is odd how the dark elves love not the light of Arien nor the moon of Tilion but prefer the darkness of caverns and caves, as though to secret themselves away."
Beralai Levee leans down and stashes the ceremonial blade back in the brown satchel in case he was asked to aid the male later. “Never know with these surfacers,” he thinks to himself, pouting lightly as he cinches up the brown bag. Olwë continues to talk. "But if you can travel so, perhaps it is by the will of the Valar, and to them you should be conveyed, to give unto Manwe a report of your dark elf maid and her torments."
Beralai Levee smiles and nods," I am actually beloved by my Illharess for my skills with oration." He pulls the brown bag over his shoulder and waits to be pointed in whichever direction he was to travel. Apakenwë knows the Valar have nothing to do with this transportation, but she can hardly say so under present circumstances. Olwë paces, and wraps his arms around himself, hugging himself tightly. He cocks his head and answers questions no one can hear. "No, I won't submit. I won't bow to you. I won't drink the dark elf's potion. A sip was what cause this....why should I take another? " He pauses and continues. "I tell you, I will remain a child of Eru, Dark One." Olwë looks at the drow. "I'm cold, and wet, and the musicians promised to play. You should go or stay."
Beralai Levee frowns, a worried look crossing his face as if he had some insight into the male's thoughts. He had seen the voice of chaos before, heard of its inner workings and how it drove men and elves to madness. He also knew how easily the potion could prevent this. He shuddered slightly, his thoughts still on the 'disease' the male had as he nodded vigorously," I will stay."
He waves a hand and turns to Apakenwë. "Would you like to see the palace?" he asks, smiling shyly. His eyes are too white, too wild. “Yes,” she answers. “Let us go to the palace.”
"King Olwë, you will forever remain a Child of Illuvatar. " Estelin says reassuringly. Turning to the dark-skinned elf, he says, "Will you stay here, in this sun lit world, and hear the music we are about to play, and drink an dbe merry with us this day."
Olwë turns to Estelin and smiles. "I shall. Please remember that always."
Nolë helps his king stand steadily. Beralai Levee nods vigorously, not quite sure of what a palace was. He shrugged it off, ready to tackle this giant ball of bright flames one place at a time. Olwë smiles at Apakenwë and gently takes her hand and tucks it un under his elbow and on his arm. He claps a hand on Nolë's shoulder and squeezes. "Yes, please. I feel very tired. Very tired."
“Yes, I am weary as well.” Estelin tries to mimic this with his bodily functions. "Let us go to the palace."
Beralai Levee stands to the side, wondering which way they would head. Olwë blushes and for a moment, he wrinkles his nose. "Hard tack and water from different sources play hard upon the body, my friend." He pauses and looks at Estelin. "You are well, I hope?"
Estelin smiles and feels a warm feeling on his cheeks. "Yes, my king." He tries to figure out what this feeling is. "I am well."
Olwë looks at them both, brother and sister. "You must always heat the water thoroughly before you drink from any stream or cook." Apakenwë listens attentively, to directions on how one is supposed to eat and cook. She hopes not much of that will be required.
Nolë leads the group to the palace, anxious to get out of the cold and wet. Olwë walks away with Nolë and Apakenwë then pauses.....He turns to Nolë. Beralai Levee remains quiet, his facial features relaxing as he gently closed his eyes. He thought deeply, his pupils flickering left and right behind his eyelids. He pinches his lips lightly, wondering how his Illharess is fairing.
"Nolë?"
“Yes, my King?”
"You must now send a swan to Eärwen. She must prepare to come to Alqualondë." His voice is quiet, and his eyes moist. "I want to live. By Blessed Eru, I want to live. I want to see and touch and be with Tilion once more. I want my people restored." He tightens his grip on Nolë's shoulder. "But I must also steel myself to let my will be the Valar's and Eru's...not this dark voice."
Beralai Levee pouts, knowing the aid the man desperately needed he would not accept. His eyes cast to the ground, wondering if the man would come to his senses before chaos drove him into permanent darkness.
"If that means all I am, then all I am, I will give. But to Eru, not this Dark One. Tell..." he takes a deep breath." Tell Tilion that I loved him with my last breath, if it comes to that."
Nolë listens attentively, then with one last clasp on Olwë's shoulder before he goes to the Swanry to deliver the message.
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