silverstar, the silmarillion

viii. "astarien entuluva."

Breakfast was silent. Tense, Elmarë would say. She was sitting beside Maedhros, both Elrond and Elros sitting across her beside Maglor. Elmarë had seen her brothers' nose scrunched a few times as they ate the salad served.

Elrond was trying his best to conceal his reactions, Elmarë could see it, but Elros did so with less effort than his brother did. She was confused, what was wrong with the salad?

It was later then, when she was drinking her cup of water, that Elros spat his salad out. All eyes were directed towards him; two alarmed grey and silver eyes, along with pairs of dark blue confused eyes.

"Is something the matter?" asked Maglor calmly, peering behind Elrond's chair to seek Elros. Elros froze, expecting a punishment, and thus admitted with fright, "I-it tastes like soap!" Confusion but then understanding dawned at Maedhros face, laced with sadness.

"Is this the herb you were describing?" he asked aloofly, holding out a herb from the plate. Elros nodded, and Maedhros continued, "This is a herb called Cilantro. For some people, it might taste as a normal herb would, but to others, it was described to have a soapy flavor."

"Would you like other food?" Maglor asked Elrond and Elros. Both nodded, and their salad were exchanged with stews. Eating happily, breakfast was back to being tense, when a sound was produced when Elmarë pushed her chair back to stand.

She asked stiffly, "May I excuse myself?" The sons of Fëanor glanced at each other, and Maglor nodded at her.

...

Dawn at Amon Ereb was beautiful, Elmarë would say. The sky was painted in soft blue, and the sun was rising, birds were chirping, singing, in particular. But she can't deny that it was still a fortress, a fortress to protect against foes, be they orcs, or kin.

She shivered, kin.

Kin. They had taken away her kin, family, people, from her. From Elrond and Elros. They had taken away her mother, Gilithdol. And though she cared little for Elwing, it still stung her that the sons of Fëanor were the cause why Elwing jumped.

But. But then the sons of Fëanor were pushed by the Oath they swore, the Oath they bore heavily upon their shoulders. An Oath she swore in the witness of Varda the Queen of the Valar, and Eru Ilúvatar.

Their hands and souls were tainted by the souls they have had slain, forced to slain. They have had been hunting the Silmarils down for hundreds of years, for the Second and Third Kinslaying did not occur for nothing.

Hardships they had been through, guilt and grief, for loosing their brothers are not an easy weight to carry. Elmarë suddenly halted in her walk, her mind felt as if they were shattering, it was painful.

She brought her hand to her temple, her silver eyes tightly shut, and she fainted to the floor of Amon Ereb.

...

Maedhros felt that something happened at his dwelling as soon as Elmarë were excused. He abruptly stood from his chair, making the twins and his brother jump, before walking outside the dining room.

"Where are you heading to, Maedhros?" Maglor asked from the table, before he joined his brother, the twins leaping off the chairs to follow the taller elves. Maedhros didn't reply, he continued to walk towards the hallways, and eventually a barren field, though filled with flowers, and a bench.

A body was sprawled there, her silver hair spread along the floor, eyes closed. Elrond and Elros both gasped, and sprinted to each their sister's sides. Maglor's eyes widened, and he shouted for healers, but none came, for it was too early, thus he carried he through the halls and brought her to the Healing House.

...

It was dark and hollow.

Elmarë felt faint. A painful noise struck her, before whispers stroke through her. Slowly, they were getting darker.

"A star shines upon our meeting."

"How were you?"

"'Tis a joy I've had long had not feel."

"I do not recognize you."

"Miralyaen, it is—"

"It is worthless, Maitimo!"

"Where were you?"

"You are not who I remember; you've changed."

"Please—"

"Farewell."

She covered her ears, and screamed as they filled her ears, slowly falling deep into a dark abyss. The whispers were no more, and she stood at a garden, an elleth standing ahead of her, with silver hair alike to her, wearing a beautiful white dress, her back turned.

Elmarë hesitated, and touched the elleth's shoulder. Her head turned, and Elmarë was struck with their similarities to each other. Her eyes were the color of soft blue, not warm nor hostile when they met Elmarë's.

But then, she smiled, speaking in ancient Quenya that Elmarë did not understand, "Rehtasë" Save him.

Elmarë gasped as she sat. She was at the Healing Chambers. What had happened? Where were Elrond and Elros? Were they fine? Why was she—

She was sweating, an unnatural occurrence to elves, when a hand was gently laid upon her shoulder. She flinched, and looked upwards to see Maglor's face who looked stricken.

"What had happened?" asked Elmarë weakly.

"You fainted."

...

When Elmarë was brought to the Healing chambers, she started chanting in ancient Quenya, one that was once spoken in Valinor, so ancient, it was not possible for her to acknowledge. Maedhros was standing offside, as Maglor sat on the chair beside the bed, Elrond and Elros by his lap.

It was inaudible at the beginning, but then it became clear.

"Astarien entuluva." The Daughter of Hope shall come again

Both Maedhros and Maglor snapped their heads to look at Elmarë.

"Astarien entuluva."

The children were looking at the sons of Fëanor, confused and wary when they tensed hearing the phrases from their sister's mouth.

"Astarien entuluva."

Maedhros stumbled, and swiftly exited the chambers. Maglor stared after his brother with sadness, knowing that he will have forlorn hope, and break if Maedhros kept listening, for Miralyaen's death was ill news and heavy upon him