Heart of Flame: A Tale Of Sauron

The Unknown

To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well;

and by treason of kin unto kin, and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass.

The Dispossessed shall they be for ever.

- The Doom of Mandos -

***

The muted roar of wind dulled to a quiet hum as she dove under the surface. Stroking against the ice cold current, her silver hair billowing around her like smoke, Luimëníssë sank to the lake bed.

It didn't take long for her memories to discover her.

The battered swan ship rocked with the raging sea. Vantaro slipped in and out of consciousness in her arms. She refused to allow Írissë or Artanis to cradle him. Artanis was unsullied while Írissë appeared like her, drenched in blood. Írissë would not look Luimëníssë in the eye.

In the dark water with only starlight as a guide, Luimëníssë ran her hands over the bed, searching for something to hang onto, a token of hope. A freshwater mollusk found it's way to her palm.

The Noldor struggled to maintain control of the ships, but not all of the elves were fit for the ocean. In their arrogance, they wrought their own undoing as many were lost to the storm brought by the weeping of Uinen, the Lady of the Sea. The Maia mourned for her lost children, weeping salty tempests and sobbing violent gusts. Luimëníssë wept silently, unknowingly, both while awake and dreaming. She wept as Nienna, the Tenderhearted Lady of Grief.

But she did not feel tenderhearted. She felt like a vacuum, ravenous for distance and distraction. She feared she would lose her mind if she did not seek these things.

Luimëníssë kicked to the surface. She broke into the chilled air of the northern wilds, the trees encompassing the lake swaying with the wind storm. The mollusk cracked easily, weaker shelled than the ones founds in the Bay of Eldamar. She expected to find nothing. But on it's fleshy tongue was a seed of a pearl. Fresh tears filled her weary eyes, but did not fall.

A wavering figure like a reflection in water stood high upon a sea rock, bathed in it's own unearthly glow while the ocean heaved at it's feet. This was no lesser spirit, but Mandos himself come to deliver a sentence. The dread words he bellowed were curse or prophecy, they could not know. And Fëanor laughed as a mad man on the prow of their ship. Curvo stood at his father's side. He had not looked or spoken to her since he had rescued her.

She hurled the crushed shell far into deeper water. Grasping the pearl with both hands close to her heart, she turned towards the shore. The Noldor had set up their encampment on the wintry border of Araman. No snow or ice covered the ground here but it dominated the landscape beyond. With their stolen ships, the Noldor would not have to concern themselves with the frozen wasteland that stretched between Aman and Arda.