Exploring Westernesse [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Gifts for the Travellers

Upon reaching the Noldorin docks, Urusto set down the ramp so they could disembark. Fingon exchanged a moment of farewell before rustling Alquien’s dark hair and joining the others off the boat. Maglor led the twins and Miril forward and soon he caught up. The dawn was closing in as they walked up the hundred ivory steps into the city of the Noldor.

“Where are we meeting the Valar?” Elladan asked him, eager to see the lord Oromë once more.

Fingon pointed through the city’s main street. “On Ezellohar, the side open to the Plains of Yavanna in the south.”

“Where the Trees once stood?” Miril gasped in anticipation.

Maglor nodded. “Yes.”

The three half elves noticed at once that both their elven companions seemed solemn, Maglor appearing to be more so than usual. Even Fingon’s usual smile had faded into nonexistence. And yet, though their faces stayed drawn in remembrance of days long past, to the other three, the golden rays of Arien’s blossom caused all around the party to glow in gladness. For now that the moon blossom had dipped away, and the stars of Varda faded from view, the sun cast warm shadows through the great city of the Noldor. The ivory and marble around them as the walked glowed gold instead of white.

Inhabitants of Tirion opened their doors and windows to bask in the glory of morning. Fingon and Maglor led Elladan, Elrohir, and Miril by side roads, hoping to avoid drawing crowds. Ever popular with the masses, Fingon knew that the three half elves did not need the unwanted attention just yet.

And so at last they came out of the city and into the smaller homesteads that dotted the countryside. An hour passed, then two and three. Every so often, while they still met houses, elves would come out to wave at Fingon and his companions. Occasional dark looks were cast at Maglor, but the half elves remained rather innocuous and inconspicuous. No one knew them to be the bearers of the silmaril at first glance.

Soon enough, by the end of hour number three, the houses were gone and green fields of tended grass stretched as far as the half elves could see. At the edge of sight was a hill, gently sloping up a far distance to a great height.

“Ezellohar?” Miril asked their guides when they stopped for lunch. “Is that what we can glimpse across the fields?”

Maglor nodded. “Indeed it is.”

Fingon drew out apples from his pack and threw them to each traveller. “These are from Yavanna’s orchard. I won them from one of the elves who works there in a dice game.”

Miril caught her golden apple and looked at it. In a certain light it almost seemed to glow, but she quickly rejected this idea. Apples didn’t glow. She watched Maglor take a bite before daring to eat her own. In that bite exploded a million different flavors. The juice rolled down on her chin and she wiped the watery goodness with her sleeve.

“Incredible,” was all she could say. She looked over at Elladan and Elrohir who looked about as shocked as her and laughed. “I guess I am not the only one to feel such a way!”

“Don’t get too used to it,” Maglor warned them with a small smile. “Lady Yavanna rarely parts with these particular apples. Not easily, at least.”

Fingon nodded in agreement as he took another bite. “I was fortunate enough to come across  a half dozen this time around. I barely get my hands on one at a time in most circumstances.”

Once lunch had finished, they began walking towards Ezellohar again. Elladan and Elrohir pestered Fingon and Maglor with questions about the days of old, while Miril contentedly strolled behind. Part of her remained reluctant to see the hill. For she knew at the top lay the object that had wrought so much ruin inadvertently in the First Age. Miril was unsure as to how seeing the silmaril this time would affect her.