Glory Days

Prologue

Atyamar
Y.T. 1115

A solitary elf stared into the flames of a fire losing a battle against the rain that poured all around. His face was obscured by a large hood that was protecting him from the torrential downpour. The tall beech trees that were his namesake cast large shadows over him and the rest of the elven camp. Soon, a tall elf walked over, splattering mud everywhere as he went.

"It is a good evening, cousin," he remarked as he pushed his flowing silver hair behind his ears.

The first elf scoffed, "That's easy for you to say, Lord Elwë, you have a tent!"

"I have offered you a tent many times, Oropher, but you refuse every time. What am I supposed to do?"

Oropher shrugged, "I find nature relaxing; it helps me clear my thoughts."

Elwë didn't have anything to say to that. He patted his cousin on the shoulder and wandered off to speak to more of his people. He grimaced at the thought. Morale was low and tensions had been rising ever since the first sundering. It was some of the Nelyar, his people, and Tatyar who had stayed behind at Cuiviénen and become the Avari some time ago, showing their unwillingness to see the great lands of the Valar that he had beheld. The loyalty of some of his people had never been the same since.

Oropher smiled wryly. He had correctly guessed his cousin's thoughts of dismay at speaking to his people. Lord Oromë told the Kings Ingwë, Finwë, Elwë and Olwë that they were almost three-quarters of the way to Belegaer not too long ago, but Oropher had noted that many of the Nelyar, especially those loyal to Lenwë, felt uneasy about continuing towards their destination since they had been temporarily stopped by the Hithaeglir and Oromë had disappeared once again to speak to his fellow Valar.

Even Oropher himself felt slightly unwilling to continue so quickly. These lands around the Great River had been beautiful and pleasant at first, however, the weather had recently turned sour, perhaps a message from the Valar to move on. Yet Oropher still in his heart hoped that the weather would change, but he would follow his cousin, and king, Elwë to the ends of Arda if he decided to leave.

The main complication was the Hithaeglir. They were by far the tallest mountains the three clans had yet seen and all were fearful of them, even Ingwë, the most eager of the Elves, was cautious and had chosen to halt and wait for the guidance of Oromë.

A while later, Oropher decided to get some rest. He was in a trance when Celeborn, a great friend of his, found him. He awoke Oropher from his waking dream with a sense of urgency.

"Elwë has summoned the council. We must go quickly."

By this point, Oropher was fully awake, needing no time to remove himself from his dream state, "Come on then, let us not tarry with pleasantries."

Celeborn gave a quick nod and they hurried towards the tent of King Elwë, being careful not to slip, for though it was no longer raining the treacherous mud remained. 

Oropher quickly noticed Nahar was stabled outside the tent when they arrived, which meant Oromë had undoubtedly returned. He lifted the tent flaps and strode inside. The tent's interior was basic, not as lavish as one might expect of a king's tent, but it was much larger than any other tent in the Nelyarin host.

Kings Ingwë, Finwë, Elwë and Olwë, along with Lord Nówë, were already seated on wooden chairs and discussing something. Lord Oromë stood in a corner watching them silently. His face was clouded with doubt, and he was significantly smaller than normal in order to fit into the tent. Elwë noticed Oropher and gestured to the remaining empty seat.

"Come, Lord Oropher, sit. We have much to discuss."

Oropher bowed low and then slipped into his seat.

"You do not need to bow to me, cousin," Elwë chuckled. He turned to Celeborn, "I trust you can guard the tent effectively? We do not want any intruders, especially not from Lenwë's followers."

Celeborn took that as a cue to leave. He bowed and left briskly.

"Now, Oropher, we must fill you in on why you have been summoned."

Elwë talked briefly about the impending arrival of a powerful storm and the return of Oromë and his tidings from Aman.

"We must decide the best course of action soon, for this storm could cause many deaths," counselled Finwë.

"I say we continue our journey, and we will avoid the storm. Soon we should reach the Great Sea and finally make our way to Aman," spoke Ingwë.

"It is not so easy for us Nelyar as it is for your two clans," replied Olwë. "Many of our people are hesitant to cross the Hithaeglir."

Now Oropher spoke up "But we cannot stay here, many might perish as Lord Finwë said. I say we move forward."

"I believe this is the best course of action," agreed Nówë, ever a voice of reason.

Everyone now looked expectantly at Elwë.

He sighed, "We can use Nelyar boats to cross the Great River, but the question still remains: how do we cross the Hithaeglir?"

It was at this point that Oromë spoke up. In his deep voice, he said, "You have decided at last to continue your journey. I am now permitted to assist you. On my way back from Aman I searched for a way to cross the mountains and recently I found one. I believe it is now clear as to why I have been gone for such a long time."

"So this is why my scouts saw you arriving from the west and not travelling up the river from the south," mused Ingwë.

"Indeed. Your scouts have keen eyes, Master Ingwë," Oromë replied.

"Well, a giant shining horse isn't exactly difficult to miss," Finwë winked slyly at Oromë.

"The issue is resolved then," said Nówë.

Elwë called Celeborn back in, "Tell everyone to prepare for travel. We cross the river in three star cycles."

Midway through the fifth star cycle the host stopped having crossed the Great River on the boats of the Nelyar and ceased travel across the wooded lands between the river and the mountains for a short rest. 

The Minyar and Tatyar were already quite far ahead with Oromë due to their smaller sizes, but the golden heads of Ingwë's people could still be seen in the distance.

Oropher heard a commotion near the front of the host. He jostled to the front of the large crowd that had formed and saw before him Lenwë arguing with King Elwë. He could not hear the whole debate, but he managed to discern several words implying Lenwë's intentions to split from the main host.

However, Oropher had just about had enough of Lenwë's disloyal antics and strode angrily into the centre of the crowd. Elwë turned quickly to Oropher and silently willed him to stop, but Oropher was intent on saying his piece.

He stood, tall and proud, and spoke, "Can you not see, Lenwë, that the storm will be here any moment now? This is utter folly. Elves will die because of you!"

Murmurs of agreement passed through the gathered host and for a moment Elwë thought that his cousin's outburst had stayed Lenwë of his folly, but he was mistaken, for Lenwë was full of pride also and the anger of Oropher only made him more spiteful.

And Lenwë proclaimed now for all to hear, "My people are unwilling to cross the Hithaeglir for I perceive many bad things may happen to those who take that road. For this reason, though many have tried to stop me, I have now made a final decision. My people are leaving the host of the Nelyar!"

The crowd gasped in shock, though there was little surprise at this revelation.

Lenwë gathered all those that would follow him and travelled south in the hopes of avoiding the storm that was now close at hand.

Elwë and Oropher stood together in solemn silence as the now-called Nandor disappeared into the dark forests away southwards. The soft pitter-patter of rain now reached their ears as the storm finally caught up with them.