silverstar, the silmarillion

xv. encounter with the angel

A few years have passed. 6, torturous years of waiting for Elwing and Eärendil, but they never came. Elmarë had long buried the resentment, and spite she felt against her parents, and felt none for her parents, since that day she stared at Gil-Estel's gleaming light.

The twins had lost their hope, after a few years, and started enjoying their lives at Amon Ereb, slowly regaining their bright hope, that happiness and childishness that children possessed slowly resurfacing, but all was also eaten away by age and replaced by maturity.

...

Walking through the forest at night was dangerous, with orcs roaming around and other lurking dangers, but to Elmarë, it was refreshing.

Silence, deep silence was what she desired, maybe the occasional croaks of crickets in the dead of the night, to think, to relax.

Every night she did not know what to expect while treading through the grass, and so Maedhros supplied her with a long sword strapped on her hip, knowing that she wouldn't escape Amon Ereb after the six years that had passed and was well capable to defend herself.

The leaves crunched below her feet softly, and Elmarë took a deep breath to connect with nature, like once how Gilithdol told her.

The elves of Doriath were strong with nature. Like your great-grandmother Lúthien, who danced and sang through the forest, and that brought peace for her in the dark of the time.

But her thoughts were interrupted when the rustling from the bushes attracted her. Elmarë knew it was from a trap that Maedhros had set 3 nights ago, and so she unsheathed her long sword, ready to defend herself should any foe pounced on her.

Stepping forward quietly, her enhanced and sharp eyes caught movements beneath the bush, before large, enormous dark wings came protruding from within, startling her as she jumped backward in alarm.

"Reveal yourself!" she demanded, confusion evident on her troubled expression. Did an intruder had managed to sneak in Amon Ereb? If so, she knew that whomever it was wasn't an elf.

Elmarë circled the bush, moving to where she knew Maedhros had set the trap, her long sword extended threateningly.

She was even more confused when a masculine voice shouted, "Peace, peace! I do not mean any danger!"

Moving to whence the voice came, Elmarë tilted her head curiously, albeit cautiously she saw a man with large, dark wings behind his back, a circlet upon his brow, indicating that he was royalty of some sort.

Still, she knew not to be fooled by his appearance, and kept her hand tense, raising the tip of her sword to his neck threateningly through the net of ropes.

"What business you have here at the fortress of the Sons of Fëanor? State your reason or leave," she recited as if encounters with an intruder were a common occurrence.

The Man... angel seemed almost bewildered and said politely, "My Lady, I mean no harm. I was merely flying by this beautiful fortress when I stumbled upon this trap."

Elmarë face didn't twitch, but she was wondering 'how came he by the trap if he were flying?' but chose to ignore the voice in her head.

Instead, she questioned quite bluntly, a habit she'd learned from the eldest son of Fëanor, "What are you?"

The angel furrowed his brows at her bluntness, and responded pleasantly, "Why, I am an angel, My Lady. Prince Celethtár of Hallerin, at your service. And your help would be most appreciated." He gestured towards the trap.

She carefully lowered her long sword, remarking, "I suppose you are not much of a threat, what with your leg broken among other woes you've acquired from the fall. I am Elmarë of the Ñoldor." Ëarendiliel, a voice echoed in her mind, eliciting a flash of anger from Elmarë.

She shunned the voice from her head, instead focused on helping the Prince.

Cutting the ropes apart, she hesitated but lend her hand to him when she saw Celethtár hiss in pain as he rolled up his sleeve to expose a nasty purple bruise on his forearm.

She sucked in a sharp breath, imagining how painful it must have been, and pulled him up as he leaned on her for support. She carefully avoided his bruised forearm and helped him as he limped.

Walking slowly and carefully, the only noise heard was Celethtár's panting breaths, and she glanced up at him, "I do not know why I have trusted you, Prince."

"From the goodness of your heart?" he offered. She glanced at the prince, and for the sake of propriety, she held herself from huffing in exasperation, oozing with amusement.

Celethtár seemed to notice her amusement and slightly turned to face her, smiling knowingly, "I know you are good. Even though I may have never met thee, you are not whom you make to be."

Elmarë's amusement shattered quickly from the words as he spoke of her as if he knew her for a lifetime. Elmarë knew his sentences bore no lies, so she settled to be quiet until they reached the entrance of Amon Ereb.

It was a long, tense journey.

...

The twins awaiting her upon the gate of Amon Ereb brought Elmarë to smile from the blank facade she had acquired the prior hours. She knew that it was late and reminded herself to chastise her brothers on the morrow. Both Elrond and Elros lowered their heads when they received a stern order to sleep. When they left, Celethtár cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable.

Elmarë, startled, seeming to have forgotten his presence, returned to his side and supported him to the Halls of Healing. The Healer on duty, Morinésa, ushered them in once she saw the sate Celethtár was in on. Elmarë sat on the next bed that was beside his, patiently waiting for him to be finished treated.

...

Dabbing the soaked cloth to his forehead, Elmarë hummed a little tune that Maglor taught her under her breath. She was not as powerful with her voice as Maglor was, but it was enough to bring the calm effect the tune brought.

Celethtár asked abruptly then, "If I may ask, from which line of the Ñoldor are you? I recognize the circlet that you wear, My Lady, it was what my father gave for the late Princess Aredhel of the Ñoldor."

Elmarë brow furrowed in uneasiness, and answered reluctantly, "My grandfather was the High King Turgon of Gondolin, and my great-grandmother was Lúthien Tinúviel, if that answers your inquiry."

His eyes widened in surprise, "You and your brothers were the Peredhil High King Gil-galad was searching for. Why—"

"I am happy here as it is, and so are my brothers," Elmarë answered quietly.

"They said that you were captured by the sons of Fëanor, and had asked for my father's help. But he resisted, for the sons of Fëanor are a great ally for our Kingdom. He would not risk losing his allegiance for possible bloodshed and massacre, for my father knew Lord Maedhros' ruthlessness, though he was still worried for the fate of the children of Elwing Dioriel. I am glad then, that you and your brothers are happy here."

Her nose crinkling, she took a defensive tone, "Maedhros is not how cruel people make him be, Celethtár. He cares for us more than Elwing has ever had, more than Ëarendil has ever had."