Luimëníssë had never seen the infamous Curufinwë Fëanáro. He had been absent from Tirion the couple of times she had visited the city during her youth. He stood in her grandfather's receiving chamber before Olwë's white seat that was carved with sea shells and ocean creatures, the largest three pearls ever found in the Bay of Eldamar embedded at the foot.

Lord Olwë appeared cool as marble, his pale hair dripping over his shoulders like ice. Fëanor marched across the shining floor, torchlight blazing off his armor and that of his seven sons. Luimëníssë stood off to the side with her mother, Calarmo at his father's right hand and Náretarnon at the left. A sheer veil covered her gleaming hair and her eyes, allowing her to spy on those present without being noticed.

"Lord Olwë, I come bearing ill news from inland." The power of Fëanor's voice shot through Luimëníssë like a spear. She forced herself not to shrink into the shadows.  

His eyes were alight with either madness or genius, but his mouth was mean, greedy lips more ready to snarl than smile. Though in his tall personage, black hair and sharply angled cheek bones, Curvo was an exact copy of his father, Curvo's generous pout was in direct contrast with his father's. As were Curvo's midnight eyes which held secrets instead of readily revealing his passion like Fëanor's.

"Speak, son of my dear friend," Lord Olwë replied congenially, though his expression was guarded.

"I come here on behalf of your friendship with my father. For Lord Finwë, greatest of his kin, was brutally slain by the fell Vala once called Melkor. Though he shall be named Morgoth, the Dark Tyrant, forevermore by our people." The Teleri present gasped at this news. Never had one been killed in the Blessed Realm. Lord Olwë pressed a jeweled hand to his mouth, his silver eyes widening in horror. "I regret to bring you these tidings. I know he was closer to you than a brother." To Luimëníssë's surprise, Fëanor's strong voice faltered with emotion.

Lord Olwë rose from his seat, sweeping his robes behind his imposing figure. Striding directly down to Fëanor, he embraced him like a father comforting a son. Fëanor stiffly allowed him, though his expression remained livid with purpose. 

"We shall honor him in our fëa and hröa," Lord Olwë spoke, a tick in his cheek as he swallowed his tears. "There was no other friend I cherished more than your father. He was as close to me as my brothers Elmo and Elwë who remained behind in Arda."

"That is what I have come to speak with you and your people about. Arda."

Lord Olwë trudged back to his throne. He rested his hand upon it and turned his head. "What is on your mind, son of my friend?"

"Morgoth stole not only the life of my father but the silmarils, the greatest of my creations. While this was occurring, he incited the fell monster Ungoliant to devour the Great Trees and spread his darkness over our lands. I seek to sail over the sea and make war upon Morgoth and take back what was stolen from me. And we need ships, the swiftest in Aman, to bear us hence."

"This quest will not bring your father's fëa back from the Halls of Mandos."

Fëanor strode towards the throne, his fist clasped before him and the air simmering around his body as though he were a smoldering shard of metal. Nanwë grasped her daughter's wrist, shielding her protectively while holding her head high. Calarmo shot Náretarnon a glance, his hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword. 

"Fainthearted coward!" Fëanor barked, his sons stepping closer to their sire.

With a measured sigh, Lord Olwë peered down at the newly crowned king of the Noldor as though he were a misbehaving child. "You know I am right. The Valar will see to our protection and will doubtlessly seek the justice you crave. I put my trust in Ulmo, Ossë and the other Lords of the Holy Mountain."

"You and your late-arriving folk would still be in huts on the beach if not for the Noldor," he spat in return, pacing like a shackled beast before the Teleri Prince. "I see now the meager value of friendship with the Sea-elves."

The sons of Fëanor stood erect behind their father with their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. Curvo lingered at the side of his tallest brother. His fathomless, black gaze coldly appraised Luimëníssë, nostrils flaring in anger. His tore his eyes away, his inexplicable expression becoming as serene as the sea floor. It now seemed that any friendship with her or her brother with Curvo was now lost.

"Our swan ships are as dear to our people as the silmarils were to you. We build them with our own hands, sewed their sails and painted their hulls. We would not part with them as we would not part with our own children." Lord Olwë extended a hand to him in friendship. "Come. Let us speak without anger. If it is your design to leave these shores, I will not stop you. But I would regret parting with dark words between us."

Fëanor spat on the floor between them. "You have made your decision, we shall make ours."

***

"I will not leave you, husband. I will not be parted from your side for the sake of some spoiled maniac on a revenge binge." Nanwë stated coldly. "His father gave him leave after leave because of his genius and for love of poor Míriel. But I tell you this, his mother would mourn for the ellon her son has become. He calls Morgoth a tyrant, but he is no different. Interrupting our lives in the midst of a disaster for his own selfish pursuits-"

"Wife, listen to me please," Calarmo begged.

"No, I will not! I know you think you know best, but fleeing the city will only give that beast more power. I will not satiate his ego." 

Their shadows moved closer against the corridor wall, Luimëníssë hiding behind the cracked door as her father pleaded that her headstrong mother to take them back to their home. He feared that Fëanor was capable of anything. Nanwë agreed that perhaps he was but she would not give him the satisfactions of running away like the fainthearted cowards he claimed they were.

"Nanwë, I have always loved your spirit but in this I fear I must insist," Calarmo spoke calmly, the shadow of his hand resting against her mother's cheek. "Return to our home and wait for me there. Please. For the sake of our children, take our daughter and Vantaro to safety."

Nanwë heaved a sigh. "And Náretarnon? Will you watch over him?"

"I will not let any harm come to my son."

"Very well."

Luimëníssë strode back through the house, her hands ice cold. Things were moving so fast. What if Fëanor was capable of the worst? In their peaceful world, her imagination could not fathom what that might look like. 

As she paced the starlit courtyard overlooking the bay, she could see the camp of the Fëanorians alight beyond the walls of the city. Their numbers were growing as more Noldor joined them in their flight. She had even heard that the brothers Fingolfin and Finarfin were among the refugees, making up the better part of the company. She wondered what her Aunt Eärwen thought of all this business. Or if her cousins Galadriel and Írissë followed their crazed uncle as well.

Rustling came from beyond the high partition and a figure leaped in front of her. Luimëníssë almost shrieked before a large hand pressed over her mouth. The stranger pulled back his hood with a sly grin. She shoved him away with an outraged laugh.

"Rembano! Why do you insist on never actually using a door? Why are you always climbing up walls?"

"Not only walls," he said wryly, pulling her into his arms. "I'm also fairly good at climbing out of windows and crawling over roofs."

"You're nothing but a cat."

He nodded with an odd glint in his eye. "Here I always thought I'd make a better dog." He kissed her hard, making her apprehension melt away.

"So have you come back to take me away from all this?"

"That is my intention."

Náretarnon trotted into the courtyard, his sword still at his side. Rembano had the presence of mind to release her and give a short bow towards the grandson of the Teleri Prince. With a snort, Náretarnon righted his old friend.

"No need for such formality here, seeing as we are to become family," her brother droned.

Rembano blinked over at her. "Do your parents know yet?"

She shook her head. "Not yet, but Náretarnon said he would stand up with us."

"But now is not the right time. I've been sent to find you, Luimëníssë. You, mother and Vantaro are going back to our home outside the city until things settle down here." He gave Rembano a worried glance. "It seems our Noldor kin do not take kindly to being told no."

Rembano grimly scanned the city below. "I think the time for fleeing has passed."

They gathered at the wall and gazed down towards the water. Angry voices broke the uncanny silence that had settled over the city since the loss of the Trees. Teleri mariners were swarming the piers as Noldor soldiers in gleaming armor and fierce swords struggled to take the ships by force. One of the vessels was already out at sea.

"Dear Ulmo, protect us," Luimëníssë breathed as a Noldo was shoved into the water and sank out of sight, weighed down by the metal strapped to his body.

The singing of the Sea-elves' arrows shredded her conscious as blades were drawn.

Náretarnon and Rembano took off for the house. "Come! Father, mother and Vantaro have already departed in the litter for home, I was to ride with you!"

Gathering her pearly rose skirts, Luimëníssë caught up with the two long legged ellyn, her heart thudding in her chest. Rembano flung back his cloak, his hand at the fine sword on his hip. They raced through the streets with other mariners. Most were only armed with wooden bows, merely larger replicas of the one that Vantaro carried.

"Stay here!" Náretarnon commanded her, pointing to a corner close to the steps of the arched harbor gate.

Rembano grasped the back of her neck, pressing a hasty kiss to the top of her head. "Remember what I told you. Wait for me. No matter what happens." As he followed her brother into the fray, she saw a cryptic smile flash across his mouth.

Arrows sunk into armor, blood spilling onto the docks. Never had such a thing been seen in the Undying Lands, a kinslaying driven by the raving Fëanor in a desperate attempt to steal the beloved ships. She spied the Noldo King through the mayhem, his blade held high and bloodied to the hilt, his eyes widening to reveal the whites as he ran a mariner through who was trying to keep him from cutting a ship from the pier.

Her family's litter had been stopped in one of the further alleys. She spied her mother and Vantaro crouched beside it with the weeping handmaids. Gathering her courage, Luimëníssë hurtled through the crowd to reach them. As she ran, she saw her father plunge into the chaos. 

Náretarnon was fighting one of the seven sons of Fëanor, a fair faced one with a golden harp engraved on his breastplate. Her brother was never a warrior. The Noldo sliced a cut across her brother's thigh. Calarmo shoved the Noldo onto the ground to keep him from issuing the killing blow to his son. As he did, an arrow from a well meaning Teleri archer sliced through the air. 

It was meant for the son of Fëanor, but struck her father through the heart.

"Atar!" Vantaro screamed, tearing out of their mother's arms and readying his bow as he ran for his older brother cradling their dying father.

Vantaro was trampled by the crowd before Náretarnon saw him. The child laid prostrate on the ground, blood staining his white hair at his temple. Nanwë made it to him before Luimëníssë and gathered her child to her body.

"We must get to safety-" Luimëníssë choked out, the three of them still too far away for Náretarnon's notice.

Nanwë sat up and pulled back her sleeves to lift her youngest child when another wayward arrow flew from the harbor gateway above. It pierced Nanwë's throat, a spray of blood splashing Luimëníssë across the eyes.  

"Amilye!" Luimëníssë pulled her mother into her lap, red dripping into her vision. Nanwe's eyes were wild as her mouth uselessly gasped for air, blood filling her exposed esophagus. "Please, amilye!"

Her mother's body shook in it's death throes then her spirit fled, Luimëníssë's gown soaked in her blood. 

A Noldo soldier with a helm hiding his identity lifted his sword to cut down an archer that had fallen beside them. Impulsively, Luimëníssë grabbed the arrow that had killed her mother. With a grief stricken scream, she stabbed the arrow through the Noldo's exposed throat right where her mother had been wounded. The ellon gurgled blood, just like Nanwë had, and dropped to his knees. Luimëníssë watched his death with grim satisfaction, her head held high with the bloody arrow still in her hand.

She didn't see the lifted blade behind her until it was almost too late. She turned as a warrior of Fëanor moved to kill her for slaughtering his comrade. She closed her eyes and waited for the blow, for the honed blade to take off her head, but the moment never came. 

The sharpened end of a sword emerged through the elf's breast plate as he was stabbed from behind. He thudded down beside her.

"Come," Curvo commanded as he wrenched his sword from his fellow Noldo's back and sheathed it, his long hair hanging in thick ropes and coated in gore and sweat, soot smearing his face.  "Come with me now."

He swept Vantaro over his shoulder, the child still moaning and unconscious, and grabbed her hand. They ran through the skirmish, the ground slick with blood and smoky air filled with the cries of dying elves. He led her to the last dock where the fighting was the least and towards a pile of crates.

"Stay here until the fighting lessens, it has erupted in the streets now that Fingolfin's people have joined the fray," he instructed.

"I want to get on the ship," Luimëníssë announced through her sobs, her teeth chattering in shock. "The ships will be spared if possible. That is what your people are killing us for, isn't it?"

Curvo nodded without acknowledging her accusation. "Right. Let's go then."

Once they were onboard and huddled behind stacked coils of ropes, he left them without another word. Vantaro pressed to her shoulder, Luimëníssë watched with raw eyes as more blood was shed.

Vicious fighting broke out on a ship not far from hers as the Noldor struggled to take command. Náretarnon was on the upper deck crossing blades with the same son of Fëanor with the harp emblazoned on his armor. Fire erupted in the sails and a looming figure stood against them, bellowing with bloodthirsty glee as he cut down the ellyn around him. It was Rembano. 

Distracted by the blaze, Náretarnon looked over as his opponent hacked a fatal cut across his abdomen.

"Hanno!" she wailed. 

Rembano peered up in her direction after realizing that Náretarnon was wounded. The flames behind him rose higher until he was engulfed. In a twist of smoke, Rembano exploded into a whirlwind of fire and was gone. 

Naretarnon, caught in the inferno, stumbled to the prow of the ship. Blood dripping from the corners of his mouth and flames igniting his curls, he dropped off into the water as the ship sank. 

Her brother did not surface again. Nor did Rembano.