The Pentanath: Adventures in the Avathar
The Posthumous Writings of the Watcher of Tol Eressea
Book 6: I Medui Peth'iphant (The Last Prophecy)
Chapter 33 – Into the Maw
by Sienna Dawn

Past the sentinels they rode, Haldir and Min, though their steeds continued to snort nervously. They entered into a great gloom, an impossible, darkness that surrounded them and was darker and more foreboding than the shadow they had known within the Nend Angol . The shadow of this land enveloped them in a dense cloak of darkness, an unlight, in which everything appeared as if the very world had dissolved into a empty void, a void that no eye, no gaze, however powerful, could pierce. Haldir felt in his spirit a dread and heaviness he had not felt in a long while and he looked askance at Min, who carefully maneuvered her steed about the inky darkness. Somehow, she appeared familiar with this land and so he dropped behind her, content in letting her take the lead.

They plodded on, their elven steeds sure within their footing, but becoming unnerved by the darkness that pervaded about them. The trees, though not overly tall, leaned down toward them, as if curious about the travelers that passed beneath them. Their branches were twisted and gnarled, like ancient fingers grasping at each other, limbs embracing as if drawing comfort from their nearness. There was no path, no road, to follow, only a meandering around and about the trees, wherever there was an opening between the ancient trunks. All was stillness, there was no wind, no chirping of insect, nor drip of water. Haldir looked above him, but the sky too was a carpet of darkest black, no shape of cloud was visible, no faint light of stars. This is how the Avathar must have been at its creation, he thought. A vast, endless place of darkness and shadow. There was no sense of place, no landmark, no way of telling where they had been before and where they were going. North was the same as south and neither east or west existed. This was indeed, Haldir realized, a most dangerous place. The silence itself was deafening, for nothing stirred. It was as if they had entered a realm where time had ceased and all was in waiting. Haldir cast his senses out beyond himself, feeling with his mind, but found naught except dark and gloom.

Haldir frowned, trying to make some sense of the gloom and shadow, “Min,’ He called out softly, “know you where you go?’ He half suspected the paths between the trees were circling them around the same spot, keeping them trapped for some reason.

He heard Min call back from the darkness, her silhouette was now barely visible, “Nay, I do not, Haldir, though I do not think we shall be in this dark for long.’ She leaned toward Fëanel.

“Why do you say this?’ Haldir asked her, his eyes still trying to pierce the darkness.

Before Min could respond, a stirring in the branches ahead of them brought them to an abrupt halt. A hushed, “Hauta!’ called out form the darkness. Min and Haldir reined in their mounts.

Haldir waited, looking about him, but feeling no malevolence in the hushed tone of the command spoken.

“O man dor tuliel le?’ A stern voice called out from the darkness. The voice had spoken in both Sindarin and Quenya, as if not certain which of the two tongues the travelers would understand.

Haldir whirled about atop his steed, trying in vain to pinpoint the source of the voice. It came from behind and all around them. He was not surprised at this, for it was a trick of old and one he had once personally employed as Marchwarden of Lothlorien.

Quietly they waited until faint stirrings came to their ears. Haldir strained his eyes attempting to see past the shadow that clung to the trees like a heavy black fog. As he searched the woods about them, he realized that forms were now moving slowly behind the great trunks and carefully emerging from behind the trees.

Haldir and Min watched silently as the elves left the cover of the trees and quietly surrounded their steeds.

They were tall, taller it seemed than the common elf, the color of their hair and eyes impossible to tell in the darkness, for even the keen eyes of the Quendi could not pierce the gloom. They were dressed in the standard wear of wood elves, that being the leggings, long shirt and the hooded cape. Their arrows were nocked and aimed at them, Haldir noticed, but he was unable to make out the markings on the bows themselves, a thing which may have aided him in identifying who these elves may have been allied to, or at least from which House were they descended.

“Which one amongst you speaks for the others’? A calm voice called out to them, his words were strangely accented as if he was not accustomed to using the common speech of the elves of Valinor.

Haldir turned to look at Min and she in turn glanced back at him. Imperceptibly Haldir nodded to her, giving her the lead. Immediately she understood and spoke, “I shall speak.’

The owner of the calm voice stepped closer to the steeds and looked at them, “What do you desire that you seek the lands of the Foinar?’ This elf had dark hair, it was obvious even in the gloom and he was lean, tall and lean. His chest was wide, his brow high.

“We are traveling these lands seeking the protection of the Goeol Faradrim,’ Min responded, not familiar with the word the strange elf had used and instead relying on the more familiar name she had always known for these people. “We also seek healing for our companion who was attacked by shadow and is lost in the realm of darkness.’ Min leaned closer to Fëanel, trying to get a better look at the tall elf who addressed her.

Though they knew it not, the elf frowned. “Only the keepers may grant entry to these lands, thus it would seem your need is great.’ He motioned with his hand toward Fëanel . “Is this the elf that requires assistance?’ Though they saw it not, the strange elf´s eyes roamed curiously over Fëanel´s features. Unlike Min and Haldir, his eyes were accustomed to the pitch blackness of the Avathar, a darkness that the neither Haldir or Min had never known and so he was able to study Fëanel quietly without obstruction. He saw the fair elf´s youthful countenance, now devoid of emotion, his eyes blank, his face marred by shadow, a shadow he had seen far too many times upon the faces of his own people. His heart was touched though he knew he would still need to proceed with care. These strangers had come uninvited to his land and what their purpose was he did not know. It would do well for him to be extremely careful.

Min protectively tightened her hold over Fëanel. “Yes, it is our companion who needs help, though we also seek leave to travel these lands to the edge of this realm and then beyond it. We mean no harm to your people.’

“There is nothingness beyond my people´s land.’ The strange elf replied, “You seek nothing, then?’ His tone was at once stern and sarcastic. “But this is not a matter to be spoken of in these woods, for we suspect these woods do listen, and for whom they listen we know not.’ He added. Turning, the strange elf motioned to a group of elves whose arrows were held at the ready. Both Min and Haldir saw they dropped their great bows and re-sheathed the arrows.

“We shall give you safe passage and tend for your friend. All else shall be decided later.’ The strange elf turned and spoke to the three warriors closest to him. Then he turned back to Min, “We will lead your steeds.’

Haldir frowned, not understanding the meaning of the elf´s words, but sensing that there was a great deal more to these people than he had anticipated and he wondered if the Valar too had foreseen this. Had they, he pondered. He watched them speak quietly amongst themselves unable to understand their language and pondered upon the meaning of the leader´s words that these woods listen. Raising his golden head, he allowed his eyes to scan the trees about them. Indeed, they appeared to be leaning closer to them than he had noticed before. He turned his attention back to the elves.

Like Haldir, Min had not replied, and along with Haldir watched in silence as two elves broke from their ranks and approached the horses. The animals snorted their discomfort, tossing their heads slightly but the elves at once soothed the nervous animals in a language neither Haldir nor Min understood. They watched in amazement as the steeds settled quietly and without resistance allowed themselves to be gently led forth.

In a matter of moments, the rest of the elves faded into the darkness again leaving only their leader and those who guided the steeds. In silence they traversed an invisible path that seemed known only to these strange elves.

Min turned back once to look at Haldir but otherwise made no comment.

They traveled quietly, the strange elves leading their horses without speaking to each other. For a while they traversed the great dark wood, and Haldir noticed that the trees seemed to part for them at their approach, a thing which marveled him greatly for it supposed that there was a great magic at work in this land, one that equaled even the magic of the great lady of Lothlorien. He did not know if this would prove to be a good thing or not. He knew he must be especially alert among these people. Who were they and what language did they speak? Were these the people that Varda had spoken of? Were these the Unuhuine-quendi?

For a time uncounted they traveled, the steeds docilely allowing themselves to be led, Haldir still following behind Min, and so no conversation between them was possible.

At last something seemed to change, for the lead elf, the one who had spoken to them, drew the party to a stop and turned back to speak to Min. “It is here that the path of the Thurin Toss ends. Beyond this we shall enter Cuiviënor which is the realm of my people.’

Neither Haldir or Min responded, instead they looked ahead them and marveled as silently, and of their own accord, the branches of thick trees parted as if pulled apart by unseen hands to reveal beyond a path which seemed to be dimly lit by the weakest of light. Yet it was enough for them to see that indeed beyond this gloom was another place, a land which was well concealed. And thus were Min and Haldir led toward Cuivienor, the realm of the Foinar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was no light, no time. This was a placed beyond time and space, beyond life and dreams. A place with no beginning and no end. A place that should not exist and yet it was. A place dreaded by all, but most especially by the immortals. This was the Void, the Timeless Pit, a place that was no place, a torment beyond the endurance of many save he-of-old, who watched and endured throughout the ages, watching and thinking.

At first he had languished here, waiting for his spirit to dissipate, to dissolve. Yet he had lived on, his essence, his will, and then in the passing of time, he realized he had never been diminished and he had known a great mirth. In this, he had known, lay the weakness of Eru Illuvatar, the compassion they all shared, which to him was a crack in their defenses, a weakness which he knew he could use against them.

Had he known this, had he realized before now, things would have gone differently. No matter, he had urged himself. Was he not adept at destroying the work of their hands? Had he not done so before? Had he not thrown down the Lamps of the Valar, thus destroying their home in Almaren? Had he not thrown down the mountains they raised in Arda, changed the course of mighty rivers, brought chill and ice to the lands of Men, and released pestilence and plague upon them? Had he not seduced that old spider, Ungoliant, so suck the light of the Trees? He had done all of this and much more, he thought with pride. Did they believe that this place would hold him for all eternity? This Door of Night?

Stealthily he had watched the coming and going of Eärendil, and his ship, the Vingilot, as their appointed time came to bring forth light upon the world. Each time he looked for a sign, a way to open the seals of this place, to weaken the force that held them shut against him. After ages untold he had seen a way to break free, a way provided by his own brothers and sisters. He marveled at their own lack of vision. A history that repeats itself, he pondered now, and not even Vaire the Weaver had seen it.

Then had come the fool, the old fool, who aimed too high, thought to usurp the Powers that be and set himself as one of the Valar. He had sensed the power of the stone, because his own essence was part of the making of the thing, the essence of the silmarils and of the magic of Feanor´s will, the maker of the stones, and through Feanor was the essence of Sauron. It was this essence he had concentrated on, this crack he had found, this good fortune that had come to him. And with infinite patience he had waited; waited for the old elf to gaze into the stone. At last the time had come and when it did, he captured the old elf, though the fool knew not who controlled the stone. Yet he would not make the same mistake twice and bided his time, using not the stone as the center of his being and power. For that he had another way, another passage that had presented itself. And it would be this passage that would set him free. Free to return and settle old scores, to undo what they had done, a return of his power and his will.

But the time was not ripe yet. Not yet. And so he settled his essence again, watching, waiting and allowing his vast intelligence to seek other distractions. He cast his eye upon the Avathar, and there, a faint spot upon the horizon, several riders swathed inside the blackest night. He concentrated his essence upon this vision, forcing himself with a will of iron because here he sensed recognition of ancient foes, enemies from old; an ancient signature he remembered from before, when he had form corporeal and walked the realms of men and elves. It was almost within his reach, the moment he would need to read the hearts of these wretched quende, but abruptly the contact faded as the blinding light of the Vingilot blocked his vision. He had mistimed the approach of the golden chariot! Sunrise was e´er before him and no more could he see. Frustration welled up within him and he recoiled from the shard of golden light as the sky ship approached the Door of Night. He turned from it, cursing the light that grew in strength and splendor.

Steadily did Vingilot approach, and angrily Melkor recoiled away from the crack within the great Door, the miniscule crack he had discovered and which was now filling with the golden light of the Sun. He cursed it again and just then the Door of Night began its slow evolution toward day, driving away the gloom of twilight skies and bringing instead life-giving warmth to Aman

And from deep inside the nothingness of the Void, Melkor screeched in fury.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They left the black shadow behind them and entered into a soft twilight. The elves that led their horses quickly turned back to look at their riders and then turned back again.

Haldir looked about him in amazement and then swiveled to look back from whence they had come. Behind them lay a massive wall of black and gnarled trees, and beyond that he could see no more. He turned to look ahead of him and his eyes marveled at what he saw.

“What is this place called?’ He asked softly, addressing no one in particular.

The lead elf answered him for he walked beside Haldir´s mount.

“This is Cuivienor, and we make for its capital city, which in your tongue is called Fen Tinwe.’

Haldir frowned. Fen Tinwe? In his own language that meant The Path of Stars. He looked above him and saw no stars reflected in the sky above him, only a silver mist. There was not the familiar sparkling of the stars and their constellations which were already visible to the outer lands of Vinyanore. Why would these people call their capital city after a thing they had never seen? He shook his head and said nothing.

Deciding to not pursue any further conversation with this strange elf, Haldir instead turned to Min. The path they followed was wide enough for both steeds to walk side by side. And though he looked toward her he could see she was immersed in the study of this strange land. Turning his head he took a good look about him.

The path they followed was a well hewn road, the grass well tended and the bushes and trees that lay beyond them on either side of the road looked healthy and strong. He was unable to identify many of the trees realizing that here perhaps grew things never heard of before in all of Aman. Gentle slopes arose several leagues ahead of them, their shapes softly silhouetted against the sky. The air was clear and clean and it was neither hot nor cold. Haldir could hear the splash of water somewhere to his left and he turned toward the sound and saw a glittering pond well banked by shrubs of all kinds. There were other sounds as well, he realized, sounds of chirps and hoots and calls. Here, he realized, was a living land, not the dead and still shadow land they had emerged from. How was this possible, he asked himself?

As Haldir looked about him a strange thought came to his mind. The light, that soft silver light that glinted like a gentle winter frost upon the land. Where did the light come from? It bathed everything, casting an ethereal glow about the trees, the water in the pond, the leaves of the trees and even unto the land itself.

“This is an enchanted land,’ He said without even realizing he had spoken out loud.

“Tis our home.’ Came the quiet reply of the lead elf.

Haldir looked down at the elves that lead their horses and suddenly he had an overwhelming sense that here was a great power at work. Perhaps an even greater power than that of Galadriel´s.

Onward they traveled, Haldir and Min, led by the strange elves who called themselves the Foinar. Haldir had much time to think and at length his thoughts brought him to Lisse, to his son, whom he had yet to hold in his arms. He looked at Min, who was quietly whispering to Feanel. He had once thought she reminded him of Lisse, but now he realized he had been wrong, so wrong.

Raising his eyes to the silver sky overhead, he stretched out his mind, sending Lisse all of the love and longing that was within his heart. Would she hear him? Would she sense it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Far from the shadow, in a land where sun and gentle breezes caressed lonely beaches, where rivers gurgled and sparkled ‘neath the golden sunsets, and where forests and glens welcomed the weary traveler, Niel surveyed the row of pasties that were laid out in neat rows upon the baking sheet. She frowned and sniffed one.

“Tis mighty tempting,’ she began, “to steal one or two?’ Hope in her voice, she turned to Cook. Elenesse looked over to Niel but turned away so that her father-in-law could not see the smile that played upon her lips.

Cook harrumphed in the way that only he could and then sighed, “If ‘tis your wont my Lady.’ He smooth his hands upon his apron, left the vegetables he was dicing for stew and reached toward a shelf for a small bowl. This he handed over to Niel but couldn´t resist chiding the younger female.

“If I ask the Lady Lisse to not sample before dinner, alas, should she learn of this…’ He eyed Niel with a silent warning. “Would not do for everyone in this house to eat before eating is due.’ Harrumphing again and this time much more loudly to show his displeasure, he turned back to his vegetables.

Niel accepted the bowl and looked over to Elenesse, who had watched the entire thing while slowly spooning fruit preserves onto miniature individual jars. These were meant for the dinner table and each guest was to have one, and so hers was a task quickly done. She watched with a merry glint to her eyes while Niel bent over the pasties and scooped up two onto the bowl.

“Nay, my Lady!’ Cook called out. He had watched her with a gruff eye for well he knew the Lady Niel´s sweet tooth. “One ‘tis all I can give thee. All the others are spoken for.’

With a moan of disappointment, Niel returned one pastie to the baking sheet. “Thank you, Cook.’ She said and then turned to wink at Elenesse. “Where is your husband still?’ She asked, taking a small bite of the pastie and then closing her eyes with delight. “Oh Cook!’ She called out, “they are most wondrous!’

Cook nodded, “Certainly, my Lady, they are.’ He agreed very seriously as he dropped the vegetables into the scalding broth.

The seriousness of his demeanor drew a guffaw from Elenesse and then she looked at Niel, “My husband lingers at the stables this night, my Lady. Far from the duties of this house.’ She added with a smile.

Niel laughed as she finished the rest of the pastie and placed the bowl on a small table beside the oven. “Aye, this I understand. Shall I call him to you?’ Niel smiled.

“My lady, I would be most grateful, for these days does he feign to suffer from a malady of the ears whence he is called to his duties here. He much prefers to be out with the cows and the horses.’ Elenesse sighed, “Tis a consequence of marriage, I believe.’ And though her voice carried a feigned sadness, there was a sparkle in her eye and when she turned to fix Niel with a stare both burst into a merry laugh.

“Fear not,’ Niel replied, walking toward the door, “night comes, and I shall fetch him for you.’ She placed her hand on the latch and then turned to the younger elf. “What shall I say is needed?’

Elenesse cocked her head in thought and then replied, “Tell him there is no dinner for this night.’

Niel laughed and then nodded her head before heading out.

She stepped outside, the kitchen door leading her directly to a side garden which Cook kept for his herbs and other edibles. She walked alongside the wall of the house, keeping well away from the well-tended herb garden, until at last she came to a larger clearing which was on the left side of the Hall itself, where the stables were kept. It was well past sunset, and the first sparkling stars were making their way across the heavens. Earendil had long sailed across the sky, heralding the long night ahead.

Crossing toward the stables, her keen ears caught the sound of a quickly galloping horse. She failed to see that Gilnorion stood beside her, not until she had turned and then directed her eyes toward the lone rider that had already passed the ivy-covered fences of Guve Hall and was well on nigh to the House itself.

As they watched the rider bearing closer upon them, Niel strained her eyes to see the rider´s features. “See you who it is?’ She asked Gilnorion.

“Aye, my Lady, I do.’ He said in a near whisper, his eyes tearing away from the rider and settling worriedly upon Niel´s countenance.

With a questioning glance, Niel studied Gilnorion's face. "Then tell, me, what do you see? Who is the rider?" She did not miss the worried stare he gave her and suddenly her heart gave a lurch. She turned back and looked again at the rider who was now closer to the house. Her eyes were now able to see more detail.

"Sweet Varda!" She exclaimed, "It cannot be!" She heart raced erratically. After nearly two years? She brought her hands to her face and watched, tears welling in her eyes. Without thought, Niel turned on her heels and ran.

"Lisse Nyere!" She called in a mighty voice. "Lisse Nyere!"

Beyond her, the lone rider recognized the voice of the elleth that called and he spurned his steed ever faster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Key:

Goeol Faradrim – The Terrible Hunters

O man dor tuliel le? - From what land do you come? (Sindarin)

Thurin Toss – Hidden Maples

Unuhuine-quendi - Under-shadow elves

Cuiviënor - Awakened land (name that the Foinar give their kingdom)

The Foinar - Hidden ones (name the elves of Cuiviënor* call themselves)

Nend Angol – Magic Waters (aka Magic Swampland)

Hauta – Stop (Quenya)

he-of-old – Melkor/Morgoth

* Author´s note: Please note that the elves of Min´s kindred call their land Vinyanore and that they had also explained to Haldir that there are many different elves in the land that the Valar called the Avathar and that some reject contact with outsiders. The Foinar seem to fit this description and are not to be classified with the elves that Haldir and Orophin met.

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Disclaimer: All familiar characters are owned by JRR Tolkien and are used without permission. No monies are being made from this work.
Painting is taken from John William Waterhouse's "Miranda", 1875.

Graphics copyrighted Cari Buziak