Year 7 of the First Age
LAKE MITHRIM

Thunder reverberated through his chest as Nelyo stared into the flames. He could hear the rain on the tent far above his head and on the gravel outside those four hide walls. Not here though. 

He'd ordered his brothers away a short while ago. Or was it more than that? How many hours had he been watching the fire in his hearth die? 

A pit blacker than the dead trees on Ezellohar had settled in his stomach. 

None of the House of Finwë had been surprised when Moryo had clashed with Angrod in council. In some ways, he agreed with his brother. The younger sons of Arafinwë all too eagerly took on their roles as ambassadors to King Elwë—Elu Thingol.

He ran a hand over his forehead. These Sindarin names. With each use of the grey tongue he could feel his father bristling. He’d fought all of elvendom in Valinor to preserve the old Quenya ways in memory of Míriel. No, he and his brothers would not just give up their heritage so easily.

But Angrod and Aegnor, they became further from Noldor by the day. Moryo had said as much, in less kind words, and Nelyo had seen the unease on the faces of his cousins.

So Thingol permitted them to inhabit only where he had no strongholds. Nelyo had laughed at it. Of course that's what he had said! They had expected otherwise?

What king would willingly part with that which belonged to him to those unproven as allies? If Thingol knew the full truth of what had brought them here, they may very well have faced a war on two fronts. Even Angrod and Aegnor had better sense than to let slip knowledge of the Kinslaying.

Another crack of thunder, yet a more deepening headache. He turned from the flames to the massive table covered in maps that dwarfed the rest of the large war tent. Tyelko and his Hunters had not been idle in the years he'd dangled from Thangorodrim. Bolstered in the last few by Telvo, they'd mapped all the northern lands from Losgar to the Ered Luin. 

Thingol did well for himself, hiding behind the Girdle of Melian. It seemed that even here, never a vassal to the Valar of Valinor, the elves had gotten entangled with Ainur. Good. Let him keep safe his forests. They had other lands to patrol, lands untamed and undefended for untold generations.

But when he looked at the maps, it wasn't the wide lands that caused his stomach to tie itself in knots. They had come to these shores for a purpose and that meant facing Morgoth as the first line of defense. He'd accepted that. 

Nelyo pulled a chair out from the table with his right arm, grabbing a list of names in his left. Six sons of Fëanáro, two sons of Nolofinwë and the King himself, three sons of Arafinwë, and if she too insisted on ruling, Artanis. Thirteen surviving potential-rulers of the Noldor. And half of them couldn't be trusted to survive in a room together.

The only name he'd managed to cross off was Irissë. She had no desire to rule over others. Maybe she had the best sense of all of them. Then again, she was also as likely to go off on her own into danger without warning the others as any of the Fëanorions.

Thirteen names. But then, only six were under him. Nolofinwë knew the best way to keep the sons of Fëanáro from unrest was to allow a son of Fëanáro to issue his commands. 

Thunder rolled and the fire burned low. Nelyo stared at the six names. He knew what needed to be done, but his heart ached to think of it.

“You're brooding.”

Nelyo startled at Telvo’s voice. He hadn't heard him enter. He cursed the rain.

“I am not brooding.”

Telvo gave a short laugh and threw his wet cloak hood back. “Come now. You missed Tyelpë hiding Curvo’s favorite hammer. He about lost his mind.” A few stray rain drops landed on the maps, but Telvo leaned back when he noticed. With a quick apology, he leaned in closer. “What's the matter?”

Nelyo shook his head. With a sigh, he sat back in the chair. “It is for me—”

“Nonsense.” Telvo sat down opposite him. “You may be the eldest but that does not make you the sole bearer of wisdom in this family.”

“And that is you, then?” 

It came out harsher than he meant it. For a moment, he saw his youngest brother flinch. But then he smiled. “And why not.”

Some days were harder than others, looking at Telvo’s face. He'd gained a few scars of his own when riding with the Hunters across Beleriand. But other than his hair, which had grown darker than his twin when they were still young, he still resembled Pityo so much.

“Because.” Nelyo stood up. He didn't want to think any more about Pityo. He didn't want to brood over the names on the list, and those he hadn't been able to record. “Go get the others.”

Telvo didn't move at first. He watched Nelyo with piercing grey eyes. A shiver ran down his spine. It felt, for a moment, like a shade of their lost brother stood and glared as well. 

“As you wish.”

He stared back into the firelight. It needed to be stoked and fed to stay alive. He got to work.

“Do not bring me here to lecture me, Nelyo,” Moryo snapped, first and loudest in his entrance. “I heard enough of it from Eve. If the sons of Arafinwë are so easily offended—”

“Leave it. I'm in no mood, Carnistir.” Nelyo tried not to shout back, spinning on his brother. To his surprise, Moryo said no more, though the look of concern Káno shot him from the entryway spoke volumes.

“Telvo is retrieving Tyelko and Curvo,” Káno said. He moved into the room with careful steps, glancing at the table.

Nelyo saw his gaze drift to the list of names currently pressed against the wood by his bronze cuff. “Do not act surprised,” he said wordlessly. “You knew this was coming.”

“I am not.” Káno looked up. “And I did.”

It wasn't long before the other brothers entered, in various states of disheveled. Nelyo let them bicker amongst themselves for a moment, looking down at the map one last time. This was the only answer. It had been the only answer since he’d woken up in the Elder Camp. He'd not spoken of it to any of them, but Káno was no fool, and perhaps if Finno’s quest had failed, he would have taken similar actions.

“Tyelko, how long would it take to marshal the full complement of your house?” Nelyo looked up as the chatter ceased. 

“Do we plan to return?”

Nelyo shook his head. 

His brother pursed his lips. He ran scenarios over and over in his mind. “Three days, if we leave behind anything extraneous.” He nodded, and crossed his arms. 

“Curvo, how about your house?”

His laugh cut through the air, humorless. “Certainly not three days! We have tools and materials to move as well as elves.”

“Guess.”

“A fortnight, at the least.”

Nelyo nodded. He had expected as much. Curvo’s people would also need more than their share of horses to haul the materials they'd already gathered and begun to smith.

“Tyelko, I want you to take your hunters to Eithel Sirion. From there, secure our passage Eastward towards Ered Luin.” He turned to Curvo. “We will give you the most time to prepare. Telvo, you are to bring up the rear with your men.”

“And our plans, in the end?” Káno asked.

“We will hold the north east for the Noldor,” he said. “Tyelko and Curvo will hold the Pass of Aglon and the lands surrounding. Káno, you and I will man Himring and the Gap.” He turned to Moryo. “You will take the lands bordering the mountains. And Telvo, it will be your responsibility to protect the greenlands at our backs.”

“We are running from the younger houses, then?” Telvo asked.

“Morgoth will seek any weakness in the House of Finwë to break us,” he snapped. “It is our responsibility to ensure that weakness is not our House.”

Káno walked over, taking a look at the map as well. “A good plan. Does Nolofinwë know yet?”

“Not in full,” he said. Nelyo walked over to the threadbare bed in the corner of the tent, fastening first a cloak and then his sword. “I go to him now.” 

He paused, a few steps from the door. The pit in his stomach deepened. With it, his voice softened. “If you wish to bid any goodbye, now is the time.” Silence stretched between them. “She will not come with us.”

“Wait for me at the gate,” Káno said.

Nelyo nodded. He glanced at the others, but none met his gaze save Curvo, who stared back with anger. So be it, then. 

Between rain, wind, and the crashing of thousands of feet daily across the plains, it was difficult not to lose a boot to the mud. But his mind was set. He had a task. There was no turning back now, not when they'd come so far and suffered so much.

It pained him, though, that Eve would be made to suffer even more on behalf of the kinstrife.

He took a moment to comfort his horse, the brilliant black stallion wishing for nothing more than to retreat back out of the rain the instant he brought him out. He hoped it would lessen soon. The ride around Lake Mithrim in the fog and wet was never pleasant.

Nelyo turned at the sound of horses. His eyes widened when he saw not only Káno, but Telvo too. 

“Tyelko would have joined us, but he and Rusco have already set to marshaling the Hunters,” Káno said.

Even as the words left his lips, shouts and horn calls rose above the storm. It disappointed him, but was of no surprise. Even if Tyelko had wished to say farewell to their sister, he would always prefer the distraction of war. 

Their hooves thundered across the plains, masking the distancing storm. Nelyo could see fires where Nolofinwë’s masons almost completed construction of a great keep. They worked at all hours, through all conditions. Let none in the coming days say any of the Noldor tarried in their defense of Beleriand.

“Open the gates!” 

Nelyo heard the indistinguishable guard’s voice give orders they be allowed in. But a day ago, he and all his brothers had met in council with the Younger Houses. Perhaps, for the final time.

“See our horses are fed,” Nelyo said to a nearby stable hand. “We'll return for them soon.”

They found Nolofinwë dining with Finno, Eve, Itáril, and Turukáno. The smile on her face fell as she beheld their entrance, bedraggled and weary.

“King Nolofinwë,” Nelyo stammered, trying not to look at any gathered save the one in charge.

Nolofinwë stood. He nodded. “You've come to a decision then.”

Nelyo tried to block them out. He tried to focus only on the words falling out of his mouth as he pledged fealty once again, but affirmed that he would be leaving with his brothers. He didn't want to see Eve's tears. He didn't want to see Finno’s disappointment. He didn't want Turvo’s anger, and he didn't want to see the guilty golden hair of his daughter. 

“Together we will form a bulwark against shadow,” said Nolofinwë, embracing him. “The Black Foe will tremble to see your banners unfurled in the east, and ours in the west.”

“We will keep in regular contact, by horse and by bird,” Nelyo said. “When your princes are in place, then we will begin this war in earnest.”

The words felt hollow. But they meant something. They had to mean something.

“We best see to our own people as well,” Nolofinwë said. He shot a glance at Finno, before calling for Turvo to leave. “May the stars shine on your departure.”

“Thank you,” Nelyo said.

He could not avoid them any longer. Five occupants for a small dining tent, and no one to fill the air with pleasantries. Mercifully, Finno broke the tension.

“When will you leave?” 

“As soon as we can,” he said. “Every moment we delay gives Morgoth time to strategize.”

Finno nodded. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Instead, he spoke the words in his mind that neither could bear to speak aloud. “Stay alive. There are few in this world I love more than you, Nelyo, and I cannot leave my wife again to bring you back to safety. She would have my head, as well as yours.”

Nelyo couldn't help but smile a bit. He glanced at Eve, bidding her own tearful farewells to Káno and Telvo. “I would not dream of it.”

“This won't be farewell for long, I think. Few other of your brothers will dare stay in contact with us younger children,” Finno teased aloud. “Good luck.”

“You aren't wrong,” Káno said, laughing as well. He pried himself from Eve and moved over to Finno. 

The deep pit in his stomach only grew as he refused to make eye contact with Eve. He couldn't see her sadness. He couldn't be the source of more of her tears. 

Some days when he shut his eyes, he remembered how she fought against him at Losgar, when he tried to restrain her wrath against Fëanáro. He had deserved it, of course. But even then, he wasn't sure if he would hurt her. He remembered the blood on her lip after his father’s backhand with the kingship ring left its mark. He remembered the way she cursed his name, hiding in her tent under the stars. He remembered her exhaustion when he woke in bed after his rescue.

“Nelyo.”

He looked at her. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks but she held them in, held them back. For him or for her, he didn't know.

“Promise me one thing,” she said, pulling him into a hug without waiting.

He nodded, but said nothing, now trying to keep his own tears at bay. For a moment her red hair against his face reminded him of his mother, and at that thought, he nearly broke.

“Always come home.”

Home. What was home? He had asked that many times since they'd landed on these strange shores. The answer he had pieced together was family. As he looked at her, he knew she understood. He was leaving so that there would be home to return to.

They stepped apart. Finno still chatted in quiet easiness with Káno and Telvo. So Nelyo looked around for the final person he had wanted to speak to. He found him standing a silent vigil a few steps behind Eve. Hyamindo, the youngest elf Nelyo had ever appointed to his personal guard. And the only one, as far as Nelyo was concerned, to have truly fulfilled his duties. He excused himself from Eve.

“Hyamindo.”

“My lord.” He bowed quickly, not quite hiding his own tears. “Your orders?”

Nelyo smiled. He placed his remaining hand on Hyamindo’s shoulder. “In the last days of light of the Two Trees, you swore fealty to me. None do me a greater service than you by protecting her. She is your sole charge now, under this sun and moon and forever, so long as you hold loyalty with the House of Finwë.”

Hyamindo looked up at him, eyes sharp and bright. Nelyo had always thought him one of the smartest lords of all their houses. Quiet, but steadfast.

“I will not fail you.”

As Nelyo looked from him away to his sister, wiping away tears with her sleeve as she clung to Finno’s side, he nodded. He had done all he could by the shores of Lake Mithrim. There were yet more lands to defend. And he would lead them.