1. The Wind's Requiem
“Why?” But there is no answer, save the faint cries from the harbor, and the ever-present moaning of the wind.
“Eärlaen?” It is the voice of a wounded sea-bird. Small, trembling.
“I want Amil,” she sobs.
So do I, little one. But I say nothing, remembering our mother’s desperate cries following us as we ran. “Eärlaen, take them and run! Do not look back! Go, now!!” Her cries, lost in a sea of voices so like our own, and yet unlike, marked by ruthlessness.
“We must go,” I hear myself say.
Is that my voice, so steady? How can I be so, when I am shattered inside?
“The caves are not far. If--”
“Eärlaen, look!” my brother cries, pointing down the pathway. There is torchlight growing nearer.
“Ai, Baradis!” I cry, terror filling my mind. “Nendil, take them away! Do not look back! Go!” The same words my mother had spoken to me.
“Go now!!” I cry, pushing him away. “If you do not go now they will kill us all!!”
Aelin runs to my side, weeping, but I wrench free, our eyes meeting for a last, desperate half second, and I see fear there. Nendil takes her and Linde by the hands, disappearing amongst the rocks.
But there is no disappearing for me. Not with my siblings hiding defenseless so nearby. Not when I can still fight.
A rock, a shell… Anything… They put fear in Aelin’s eyes! She who has never known aught but compassion and joy!
“Airemír’s children ran this way…cowardly Teleri…”
The words bring a fresh tide of rage coursing through my body. What right did they have to speak my mother’s name with such contempt?! What right did they have after all they had done? My gaze traveled to the ships still blazing on the reddened waves.
“There she is!”
I watch the ocean swell to dangerous heights, tossing the flaming vessels like paper boats in a fountain. The winds whip up to tempest fury, and I swear the sound of weeping is carried on the air.
Two dark haired Elves stand before me, illuminated by the ships burning below. And it matters not.
An eerie shadow slices the air, but I see only the harbor blazing in the distance…
The blade falls, and the white sands bleed crimson. As I crumple to the ground, I watch the two Noldor turn and run back towards the harbor, hearing neither the heartbroken weeping, nor the strange requiem carried upon the wind.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.