The Court of Ardor by AliceNWonder000137  

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Return to the South

Let's look at Featur's preparations for the Court to move south.  We'll look more closely at The Three as well.

16) Return to the South – Year of the Sun 156 Tuilë (Spring)

 

Fëatur

The journey back to the south was harder on Fëatur emotionally than physically.  Cirdan the Shipwright provided him with a vessel to sail to the Ȗsakan Bay where he would ride the rest of the way to Ty-Ar-Rana. The transport over the ocean gave him time to think and contemplate.  Yavëkamba was not able to provide him with any more information on the plans of Ardana’s group and he was constantly worried about her safety.  He already missed her dearly.  Then, there was Morelen to worry about.  She had accepted an offer to become one of Fingon’s riders, patrolling out from Hithlum to Ard Galen.  He knew that Morgoth was always planning something and that horrid creatures were being bred in the foul pits of Angband.  Morelen was determined to do her duty, and he could not help but be proud of her devotion.  Still, his time on Cirdan’s ship was an uneasy one.

There was a knock on his cabin door.  “Come in,” he said loudly as he closed his journal and put his pen away.

The door opened and a sailor poked his head in.  He was a Sindarin elf with sandy blonde hair under a red head scarf.  “Fëatur, we are about to drop anchor,” he said.  “This is your destination.  The captain wants to see you on deck.  Grab your things and meet us topside.”

Fëatur rose and grabbed his bag.  “I’m already packed.  Lead the way.”  The sailor led him up the stairs to the main deck where he could see land.  The sound of gulls and waves lapping at the hull filled his ears and he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of the sea.  The jungles of the south were very different than the forests of the north.  The south boasted a wide and thick canopy of trees and a high humidity from the near constant rain.  He could see sailors preparing a launch to take him to shore.

“Everything is ready sir,” the captain said to him.  “There is a small trading post called Gensatra at the mouth of the river.  “I’ve arranged for them to provide you with a good horse.  I hope you’ve enjoyed your time on my ship, the Bregolaph.”  He was a tall Sindarin with sharp, angular features and a floppy yellow sea cap to keep the sunlight and sea spray from his eyes.

“I am in your debt, Captain Ferui.  I appreciate you putting up with me for the past month.”

“It was our pleasure. Our lord Cirdan is most generous with his allies.  The launch will take you to shore when you’re ready.”

Fëatur extended his hand, which the captain accepted.  “You do a great service for our people.  I fear that the darkness will spread south, and we must be prepared.  I wish you safe travels back home.”

“I’ve always wanted to visit the south,” the captain said.  “I hear that there are giant animals with huge tusks and a trunk.”

“Ah, the Mûmakil.  I have yet to see one.  I suspect that they may just be legend.”

“Well, send word if you do see one.  I would appreciate a sketch too.”

Fëatur nodded as he moved to the ladder.  “I would be delighted to do so.”  He climbed down into the launch where rowers held up oars.  One took his bag and helped him into the launch.

“Have a seat sir. We’ll have you ashore shortly.”

He took a seat on the wooden bench and braced for the rocking of the launch in the waves.  The sound of the sea gave him some comfort against the worry for his loved ones.  Did he make the right decision to tell Morelen that he and Yavë were her parents? What if she found out?  She was exceptionally intelligent given her Vala blood. What of Moran, her brother?  His skill and intellect would be her equal and he fought for the Dark Lord.  Could it even be true that his blood would be the catalyst to destroy the Sun and Moon? The very idea challenged the imagination.  He made a grunting noise as the sailors lowered their oars into the water and began to stroke.

“I’m sorry?” the lead sailor asked.

Fëatur shook his head. “It’s nothing.  I was just thinking out loud.”

The launch made swift progress and soon, the trading post was in sight.  He saw a few small fishing vessels and a sizable group of Silvan Elves engaged in commerce, selling fish and repairing sails.  There were small posts like this set up all along the peninsula known as Taaliraan.  Elves had even begun to populate the nearby atoll known as Ardinaak, which looked like a giant “C”.  The launch pulled into a berth and Silvan dockworkers tossed out lines which the sailors used to tie down.  Ropes went around cleats, and they secured the launch to the dock.

“Safe travels sir,” the lead sailor said as he handed Fëatur his bag.  The sailor looked around and nodded.  “It looks amazingly peaceful here.  Next trip, I’m planning on staying a while.”

Fëatur smiled broadly. “Yes, it’s been a very peaceful land. And I will see to it that you are welcomed here when you return.  I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

The sailor helped him up onto the plank.  “Gadnor, Gadnor Nedion.  I’ve been sailing with Cirdan since before the Two Trees went dark.”

Mention of the Two Trees stung Fëatur, but he continued to smile.  “Well, travel safe Gadnor.  I look forward to our next meeting.”

Fëatur climbed onto the dock and one of the workers pointed him towards the nearby stable.  “Lyaan sent word of your arrival.  A horse is waiting for you there.”  The elf was dressed in a rough wool shirt with baggy pants that were sporting more than a few tears in the fabric.  His face was dirty and he smelled of fish.

“Much appreciated, my good man.”  He walked the short distance to the stable, gazing at the Silvan Elves of the trading post. They were somewhat shorter in stature than the mighty Noldor and far more rustic.  Though he was used to the regal character of his High Elven brethren he found that he enjoyed the easy nature of his Silvan cousins.  No one here cared about houses or kings.  Their concerns were for the catch and the seaworthiness of their boats and the strength of their rope.  It was a community of equals, all sharing in the work and rewards. He had a moment where he imagined he, Yavë and Morelen living in quiet solitude here, catching and cleaning fish and joining in loud singing in the tavern at night.  They could be a true family.  Maybe. Maybe one day.

A stable boy handed him the reins of a horse, and he gave it a once over.  It was healthy with a fine brown coat and a well-made saddle. He smiled down at the boy and gave him a small blue gem in thanks.  He wasn’t sure if that was part of the custom of the Silvan Elves, but the boy thanked him and ran off.

He mounted the horse and noted the high humidity of the south, far different from the temperate clime of the north.  He fanned himself and wiped some sweat from his brow.  I would be just over a day’s ride to Ty-Ar-Rana.  The path was far too well known, something he would have to change in the coming days if word of Ardana’s coming was true.  Yavë’s information was always good so caution would be the norm from now on.  He waved to the Silvan Elves and then touched his heels to his horse’s flanks, and it walked at an easy pace out of the village.

It was a very pleasant ride along the jungle path, full of the call of colorful birds.  At random points he dismounted and drew a rune on a tree or a rock that would leave a confusing illusion should someone less than friendly take the path.  It was certain to leave them utterly lost.  As night was falling he heard what sounded like a massive trumpet, followed by others.  Were those the fabled mȗmakil?  He was tempted to ride and take a look, but he would not be distracted from his task. Still, he would love to write Captain Ferui one day and tell him that he had, indeed, seen one of the giants.

Early the following morning, Fëatur saw the great pyramid of the main structure of Ty-Ar-Rana.  He rode into the town and was greeted by the elves who had made the place home.  It had grown considerably since he left.  The streets were now clean and well paved and new houses lined the roads leading to the pyramids.  Young Lyrin ran up to him with two Sindarin Elves and bowed.

“Welcome back, Master Fëatur,” he said with a boyish smile.  “As you can see, we have made much progress here.”  He and the others were dressed in loose-fitting outfits, tailored for hand-to-hand fighting.  They had been training as well.

He pursed his lips and nodded approvingly.  “Impressive. It’s good to know that you were not idle here.  I bring news from the north.  Where are your parents?  We must meet.”

“Come, follow us,” the youth said happily, beckoning Fëatur towards the pyramid.  “Where is Morelen?  Is she well?” Lyrin asked, some concern on his face.

“We fought a great battle,” Fëatur said with some pride.  “And it was a great victory.  Morelen is well and in the service of Fingon.  She will remain in the north for now.”

A look of disappointment crossed Lyrin’s face as he scrunched up his features.  “I’m…I’m sorry to hear that.  I…I miss her.”

Fëatur gave a bittersweet smile.  “I do as well.  Come, there is little time to waste.”  He sensed that Lyrin did not miss her in the same way though.

Lyrin pointed to his two companions.  “These are my friends and fellow trainees, Edenor and Anuven.  We are learning the ways of unarmed combat from my father,” he said and then turned on them and began throwing fake punches and kicks, which they blocked and returned, the three laughing the entire time.

“Ah, the joys of youth,” Fëatur said wryly.  He looked the boy up and down and noticed that, from his deep reddish hair and piercing eyes that he had the blood of the House of Fëanor in him.  Then, he shook his head and snorted.  “Now focus, young men.  We need to meet and discuss things.”

“Of course,” Lyrin said with a slight smirk.  Then he turned and ran off towards the great pyramid with his friends in tow.  “Come and catch up!” he called.

Fëatur let out an exasperated sigh and smirked.  “Kids.” He then tapped his horse’s flanks and cantered after them.  He never stopped marveling at the structures of Ty-Ar-Rana, a great, three-sided pyramid, surrounded by three lesser ones, all made of smooth gray granite.  But the true marvel was below ground, an intricate set of tunnels connecting all of the pyramids.  He dismounted his horse at the base of the great pyramid and followed Lyrin and the other two up the granite steps to the entrance.  An elf in full silver plate armor, carrying a gleaming two-handed sword, stood in front of the entrance.

Lyrin pointed at the elf. “This is Taran.  He’s…not real.  He’s an automaton that my father discovered in the storeroom.  This whole complex was created by the Vanyar while they lingered before their final journey west.  When they left, the Nandor came and took over, but they mostly inhabited the town.  In fact, they were here when we arrived and have been great hosts to our cause.”

Fëatur leaned in and looked closely at Taran.  “Remarkable. He looks so lifelike, right down to the golden Vanyar hair,” he said and then turned to Lyrin.  “Do you have any idea how he was made?  I’m just thinking out loud, but a few of these would be quite handy in the days to come.”

Lyrin shook his head. “Unfortunately, no.  Whatever art or magic went into Taran was lost when the Vanyar went west.  I was born here so I know nothing of this or our Vanyar cousins.  I’m sure my parents will have some insight.  Come, let’s head down and meet them.  Your news seems urgent.”

Fëatur took a deep breath and nodded.  “It is.” The four then went through the door into the great pyramid and they boarded a lift that descended deep into the earth.  Lyaan and Lysa were there to greet them, dressed in white robes.

Lysa extended a hand to Fëatur’s chest.  “I felt your presence and know that something troubles you.  You may speak freely here,” she said slowly in her melodic voice.

Fëatur paused for a moment, thinking about his next words.  Then, he realized that this could not be sugar coated.  “We need to prepare.  The enemy has plans to come south.”

Chapter End Notes

This chapter looks at the dynamic between Featur and The Three as well as the family dynamic.

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