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Maedhros glanced again at the sand falling with the glass. One of the scholars had made it as a way to mark the passage of time now that the mingling of light from the Trees no longer occurred. Maedhros hated it, as he hated the dark and the wait, and how there seemed to be no end to either in sight. Some part of him hated too that he could not ride back to Tirion and ask for advice, or even to Fingolfin or Finarfin’s hosts. Surely someone would know more of how to approach Olwë than those in Fëanor’s host did?
Just as he had relaxed back into his seat, head held in his hands as he stared at the mass of papers in front of him, the flap of Maedhros’ tent flew open as an elf he barely recognized stepped around it. Maedhros jolted up.
“Prince Findekáno and Princess Indis request an audience,” the elf said without a pause.
Maedhros kept himself from flinching at the words, though he could only be grateful that the servant had come to him instead of seeking to wake his father, or worse, giving the task to one of his younger brothers. Then he realized who had come with Fingon - not Aredhel, who he would have expected to come, but Indis, now given a title only as Ingwë’s sister. That was likely to be another problem, Maedhros decided, but one he could not deal with until he knew if it had been his father’s idea or not.
“I thought she had left for her brother’s home?” Maedhros said after a moment’s thought. That had been what Fingon had said the last time Maedhros had spoken to him. Indis had left, or was about to leave, from the grief of Finwë’s passing and the destruction of so much they had held dear in Valinor. Had Fingon been wrong? But that did not make sense either, for Fingon had always been the closest to Indis of all her grandchildren.
The other elf shrugged. “Prince Findekáno said only that she sought an audience with your father, or your father’s heir if he was unavailable.”
Maedhros felt an odd mixture of unease and relief settle within him at the words. His father would not welcome Indis, but the stress of the approaching meeting with Olwë suddenly seemed less for Maedhros. Every rumor coming from Alqualondë had suggested that Olwë would not give them the ships without an argument, and Olwë had not seemed as sympathetic to their cause as Maedhros had hoped. They needed help, more help than Maglor’s old friendship with the Telerin musicians could bring, and less arguments if they were to have boats to cross the sea.
Fingon would not brought Indis unless he truly thought she could help. Indis had known Olwë for more years than even Fëanor had been alive, and might possibly know of some way to convince him to lend them the boats. Maedhros clung to that thought as he sent the other elf to bring them to the tent Maedhros had claimed as his own.
He had not expected how changed Indis had become over the brief time since he had last seen her. Truthfully, he had expected her to still be dressed as she had in the city, wearing the long dresses and cloaks that she had preferred for as long as Maedhros could remember, and the jewelry she had still kept from Finwë even after they had parted. But now she wore only a simple dress with a split skirt and leggings underneath it, and she carried a bow in her hand. All that remained the same was her jewelry, the pendant Maedhros remembered his grandfather claiming as one of two pieces he had crafted alone resting on her chest, and two gold rings on her hands.
Fingon trailed behind her, but Indis did not give him a chance to speak.
“Maitimo,” she said. “I am thankful for the opportunity to speak to you. I would offer my aid in convincing Olwë to lend boats to cross the ocean, if it is needed.”
Maedhros hesitated, knowing that his father would not approve, even if Maedhros wanted nothing more than to beg her for her aid. Finally he spoke after a look at Fingon. “It is not my decision to accept, whatever my feelings may be. My father will have to decide once he wakes.”
Indis only nodded. “Then I shall wait for his decision.”
Fingon shifted from foot to foot, and then looked at Maedhros. “Perhaps you could explain your reasons for returning to us and your request to Maitimo first, so that there are fewer elves in the camp wondering why we are here.”
Indis inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Only if it is the High-Prince’s wish.”
Maedhros took a breath. The title set uneasily on his head, as uneasily as hearing Indis described only as Princess had. “I would hear your thoughts, if you truly wish to share them. But if the grief is too much, I would not press you for thoughts you are not willing to share.”
“I returned because I realized I could not leave my loved ones to walk into danger without all the aid I could them. Olwë will be reluctant to let you leave, or to share the boats, and the other path to leave is far more dangerous,” Indis said immediately.
That was the confirmation Maedhros had hoped not to receive.
Some of his fears must have shown on his face, for Indis continued, “In this, we have perhaps sheltered our descendants too deeply from the horrors of our pasts, for I do not think there is the time now to explain to you Olwë’s grief and desperation to leave those lands, nor the pain the decision caused him at the same time. But he will not allow a return to those lands easily or swiftly, and your- the King will not wish to delay long, nor willingly accept Olwë’s refusal. The only other path is over the Helcaraxë, and that path too shall take longer than the King wishes, and is full of dangers that even those who have explored Valinor in its fullness have not seen.”
Maedhros dismissed how she had stumbled over his father’s title. Even Fëanor himself still seemed uneasy with the title when he heard it, looking around as though he still half expected Finwë to reappear. There were too many matters that needed attention, and too many hurts that needed to be settled before they could move on.
But that was a matter for later, when Indis was confirming every fear Maedhros had held. He almost wished she had not come, before he shoved that thought away. If she had not come, Olwë’s reaction would still have been the same, except they would have had less warning and less aid.
“If Olwë will not lend us the boats,” Maedhros began.
“Grandmother had hoped she may be able to convince him. As friends, or at least as someone who understands some of Olwë’s grief and past,” Fingon interrupted. It seemed he had reached the end of his patience with careful conversation, and hoped instead to settle the matter quickly. Maedhros could only sympathize with this wish.
Indis nodded once more. “Olwë and I have never been as close as he was to Finwë or my brother, nor as Finwë and Ingwë were to Elwë. But I came from the same lands as Olwë, and I know some of the fears Olwë holds and the memories that still torment us. If he will not listen to your father’s demands, he may listen to a plea from one who was not born in these lands.”
“She hopes to help us too in Beleriand, if we can get Olwë to agree,” Fingon said. He seemed happier now that the first hurdle had been cleared, and Maedhros had not outright refused to listen nor rejected their aid.
“If you wish to have any hopes of an alliance with the Sindar upon arriving in Beleriand, you shall need someone who knows Elwë.” Indis’ lips twisted so quickly that Maedhros was not sure if she was amused or saddened, and could only be certain that it was a good thing his father was not here to take it as an insult to his understanding.
“Elwë is not as calm-tempered as Olwë,” Indis said when she noticed Maedhros’ expression. “Or at least he was not when last I saw him, and while time can temper some, I think Elwë unlikely to have changed so over the years. If he is met with demands, or if explanations are not conveyed to him quickly enough, he shall not react well. But Elwë was Finwë’s friend, and if he is met with the right explanation, I believe he shall not stand in our way at the least, and may offer us more aid if he can.”
“The right explanation?” Was there never to be an end to the problems of trying to convince others of the rightness of their goals and the reasons for their quest? The thought of having to carefully explain Finwë’s death once more rested heavily on Maedhros. Had it not been enough to tell Fëanor, and the Valar, and then Indis and the rest of their family?
Indis clasped Maedhros’ hand in hers, before she released it quickly as though she was not sure it would be welcome. “It will be different than the problems you are having with Olwë, unless much has changed with Elwë over time. But Elwë prefers directness, and less misdirection than you are used to from your time in Valinor. He will not welcome you if you hide some part of the past, or if you try to make your case slowly. Elmo is much the same, though he has a longer temper.”
“At least it will not be the same problems, if we must deal with Elwë as well. But it is uncertain that Elwë ever returned from the woods, nor if the Sindar still remain in those lands. We may be discussing Elwë and his people’s reactions for little reason, and find ourselves beset with new problems upon our arrival,” Maedhros said.
“Uncertain, perhaps. But I have spoken to Irmo and Estë in the past. Elwë has not entered the Halls. The Maiar who still journey to those lands will not give news directly, but they did tell both Ingwë and Finwë that they should not despair for Elwë’s fate, and Olwë to not mourn. I judge it more likely than not that Elwë still lives.” Indis stood calmly after she had finished speaking. It was clear that for all the grief that had been placed upon her, and the doubts inspired by Finwë’s deaths, she still thought it more likely than not that Elwë ruled his people in those lands.
Maedhros considered his response in light of her hope, but before he could think of one, he heard the sound of shouting outside the tent as his father barked questions at whoever was standing guard outside Maedhros’ tent.
And then Fëanor opened the tent flap.
For a moment, Maedhros feared that his father had not already been told of Indis’ arrival, and that Fëanor had come for some other reason and would now be met with Indis instead. That would put an end to any hopes that Fëanor would listen, but then Fëanor narrowed his eyes and folded his arms in front of his chest.
“I have been told you sought an audience with me to discuss aid you wish to give us, and then with my son when I was unavailable. Speak of what you will, though I shall not be convinced by pretty words to turn back and wait by Manwë’s throne as your brother does until they decide Morgoth’s deeds deserve punishment. If that is your goal, you may leave.”
Indis smiled at the words. “Then it is well that I do not intend to convince you to turn back, but seek to aid you in gaining use of the ships and that I intend leave on the same ships.”
“You seek to aid us and leave Valinor with us,” Fëanor said flatly. “You, whose brother has spent centuries at Manwë’s side, listening to every word he says, would willingly aid me in leaving these lands against the Valar’s will. Why should I believe you, and why should I willingly allow you onto the same ships that will take my sons and I across the sea?”
There was silence in the tent for a moment. Maedhros wondered if Indis would repeat the same arguments she had given him, or Fingon’s words. It seemed they were the only available arguments, and yet as convincing as they were, Maedhros could not see them working to convince his father. Fëanor was more likely to be offended by the thought of needing Indis’ aid than he was to welcome it, even if he had reconciled somewhat with Fingolfin.
But then Indis meet Fëanor’s eyes. “I cannot make you believe me, for that is your decision. But as for why you should willingly permit me onto your ships, the Valar do not approve of your leaving, as you are well aware. If I leave as well to lands from which I likely shall not return, or that I return to only through Mandos, the Valar may permit your mother to return to life as Finwë’s wife upon his rebirth. There will be little reason for them not to, so long as I make it clear I myself will not return to disturb them.”
At her words, Fingon bit his lip behind Fëanor. They must have spoken of this, Maedhros realized. Otherwise Fingon would be angrier at the words, or grief-stricken at the thought of Indis’ death too, so soon after Finwë’s.
“And why would you welcome her return?” Fëanor demanded, but Maedhros could see the faint hope that lurked in his father’s eyes, even if Fëanor would be unlikely to see his mother returned. It was his father’s oldest wish, and perhaps the only one he held dearer than the return of the Silmarils and Finwë. If Míriel could return, Fëanor would take Indis on the ships. That was a trade Fëanor could welcome, and perhaps would have offered himself if he had only thought of it.
Indis had found perhaps the only argument that would have convinced Fëanor to willingly allow her to accompany him, even if it had pained both Fingon and her to make it, and had left Maedhros adrift with questions of what exactly she meant.
“I have never been the one who wished for Míriel to not be restored to life. If the Valar would have returned her to us, I would have welcomed her to life and to our sides. But they would not,” Indis said.
Fëanor shook his head, but he did not question her again on the matter. “And why would you wish to leave? Few of those who came here on the March have been determined enough to join us.”
“I lost friends as a girl. Snatched in the darkness from our campfires, darting into the woods to play, all of them taken by Morgoth’s tricks and servants. Those of us who made it past those days promised ourselves that if we found safety in Valinor, we would not leave,” Indis said. It was clear that it cost her dearly to speak of those old friends and the fates they had met, for tears came to her eyes as she spoke, but she continued despite that. “But we have not found safety, and will not so long as Morgoth is free. I would see him defeated, so the friends and family I still have left may dwell in safety. I would see my grandchildren make their own families, and raise their children as both you and I were granted the relative safety to do so. Turukáno and Curufinwë both have children of their own now. Would you see those children raised in the darkness and the dangers it brings, if we could do anything to bring them a world of peace and safety instead?”
Maedhros waited as his father considered the words. This was perhaps the second best argument Indis could have made, after the one concerning Míriel. Fëanor would not wish Celebrimbor doomed to dwell in darkness forever, not if they could reclaim the Silmarils and bring the terrors Morgoth had wrought to an end.
Finally, Fëanor spoke again. “If you can convince Olwë to lend us the boats, you may join us. Findekáno and you on the first trip, your children and the rest of your descendants on the second.”
Fingon looked ready to argue, but Indis spoke before he could.
“Thank you,” she said, and that seemed to settle the matter. Fingon grumbled slightly after Fëanor had left the tent, but another look from Indis quieted him.
“Grandmother,” Fingon began again when the flap was shut.
“Nay, Findekáno. I have made my choice, and I will accept what comes from it,” she said, before turning to Maedhros. “I apologize that we have occupied your tent for so long, Maitimo.”
“It is no trouble. Truly, you both may stay as long as you wish.” Maedhros hoped that his expression would make clear the relief and happiness he could not speak of, not when they were surrounded by so many others in the camp who would not understand how truly complicated the relationships within the House of Finwë had been over the years. When Indis smiled again, and Fingon laughed beside her and promised to stay until Fingolfin arrived with the rest of their people and Fingon’s own tent, Maedhros decided it had been clear enough.
If matters with Fëanor had been settled more quickly than Maedhros had expected, matters with Olwë progressed so slowly that rumors began to spread among the camp that even Indis and Fëanor combined would not be enough to convince him of the need for ships. First countless messengers had passed back and forth between Fëanor’s camp and Olwë, a measure Fëanor had only agreed to when Maedhros and Maglor both had begged for calmness and diplomacy before simply entering the city and forcing Olwë to listen.
But finally Olwë had agreed to meet them, though Fingolfin and Finarfin and their people were still behind. And so began a series of discussions that mostly repeated arguments so old that many of the elves there had not heard them, though Maedhros and Fingon recognized some of them from Indis’ earlier words and conversations they had spied upon as children.
“It is not certain Elwë lives, nor that any of the people we left behind still dwell in those lands. They could have returned to Cuiviénen, if they did not die or find themselves captives of Morgoth or his followers,” Olwë said. Behind him, one of his sons seemed to disagree with his father’s words, but that would not be enough. Not when Olwë’s sons save his second eldest had barely been seen on land in years, and had not spoken to any of the Noldor except Finarfin’s house in nearly as long.
Before Maedhros could fall too deeply into those thoughts, Indis stepped forward again.
“Nay, but Elwë is not in the Halls, nor are any of the others we left behind us, and I shall not label them gone without reason to believe in their deaths,” Indis said as she repeated her earlier arguments. “But it is certain that Finwë is dead, and the safety we thought we had in these lands is less than we had hoped.”
“And yet I judge it folly to think the lands we left will offer more safety than what we have found here, and greater folly to think that even the greatest among elves could hope to defeat Morgoth,” Olwë said. He glanced at Fëanor as he spoke.
Fëanor looked ready to protest both the words and the look, but Indis spoke before he could, reaching a hand out to Olwë as she did. “I know you think this is the folly of those who know no better, but I came from those lands. I did not lose my brother to them, as you did, but I know the pain of friends left behind. If this is folly, it is folly that I undertake with the certainty that only the pain of remaining is worse than the pain of going.”
Something stilled in the crowd at Indis’ words, though few there had been alive when Olwë had first met Indis and Ingwë upon his arrival in Valinor, and fewer still had heard Olwë say that only the pain of remaining in Beleriand and watching their people die would have been worse than the pain of going to Valinor and leaving behind the hope of Elwë’s return. Maedhros himself only half remembered hearing the words spoken the time as a child when he had hidden under a chair with Fingon and had heard Finwë and Olwë speak to each other of Elwë.
Indis had been the one to tell them of the first time she had heard Olwë’s words, and it was clear to Maedhros from her expression that she rued repeating them to Olwë now.
Olwë took a long breath. “Neither Finwë nor Ingwë would thank me for providing passage from these lands.”
“Finwë is not here,” Indis said, for the first time with a tremble in her voice. “If he was, we would not need passage. But passage you may give us by boat, or passage we may seek by Ice, but we will not stay.”
Olwë took another breath. It almost seemed as though he and Indis had both forgotten the others that surrounded them, lost in memories of old griefs and the pain of new ones. “Why do you wish to leave? The risk of losing more is greater the closer you go to Morgoth’s hold, and you have already lost much to Morgoth.”
Indis’ lips were set in a line, and for a moment, it seemed as though she would not answer. But finally, though tears filled her eyes, she spoke, “I loved Míriel too much to let her son and grandsons go without aid, and I loved Finwë too much to let our own children and granchildren go to danger without me. What joys are there in Valinor for me if I will be left with only my worries of what they face and thoughts of if I could have done more to save them?”
“Then you are decided.” Olwë closed his eyes, a look of grief on his face that those within the crowd had seldom seen in Valinor.
“I will not stay in these lands while my children and grandchildren walk in others, nor while Morgoth is free to hurt another,” Indis said.
There was silence between the two for a moment. No one spoke, not Maedhros nor Fingon, standing behind Indis, nor Maglor where he stood near the Telerin musicians, nor Olwë’s eldest son, though he looked eager for something to occur. Not even Fëanor spoke, though Maedhros could see his father’s eyes darting quickly between Indis and Olwë, as though he was trying to decide if Indis’ words had been true.
They had been, Maedhros thought. He did not know, could not know unless Indis would speak of it, the full story of what had happened that Indis would say she had loved Míriel too much. But Indis had not lied about her reasons.
“I cannot give you the boats, for they are the treasures of my people and not mine to give,” Olwë said next, but he made a gesture with his hand. His eldest son, the one who had disagreed with Olwë’s words about Elwë, stepped forward. “And I will not sail myself to take you there, for my decision to never seek those shores again was made long ago. But my son knows the seas as well as I, and has more hope in my brothers’ survival than I have permitted myself to keep. He and his fellow sailors will ferry you across in as many groups as needed.”
Indis only nodded, and then bit her lip as though considering what to say next. “I shall tell Elwë of your children when I see him, if you wish, and I shall do my best to keep our shared grandchild safe.”
“If you see him, you shall have enough to tell him of the darkness that befell Finwë,” Olwë said. “But yes, if there is time, and if you find him, tell him of them and bid him to aid you in keeping our grandchildren safe.”
Maedhros had expected Olwë to watch over the ships as they left, but it seemed that Olwë would play no part in it. His sons darted around the docks as they prepared to leave, instructing Maedhros and his brothers along with Fingon in sailing, but Maedhros did not see Olwë again.
Indis too was missing most of the time, until she finally reappeared as they were packing their belongings on the boat.
“Are you well, Grandmother?” Fingon called.
“Yes,” she said. Her eyes drifted back across the harbor. Fingolfin, Lalwen, and Finarfin were still some days ride behind them, or so the messengers had said. “I spoke to Olwë and Elulindo of what we shall do in Beleriand, and of how long the journey will take.”
“Will the others be permitted to wait outside Alqualondë until the boats can return for them?” Maedhros asked. If they could not, it would be an even longer wait before they could all be united in Beleriand, for then word would have to be sent and the host return again before they could set sail.
“They will. Olwë thinks it will take several trips, at the least. So long as your father agrees, he will come on the next trip with Irissë and Arakáno, and some of Arafinwë’s children. Lalwendë may join them.” Indis came to rest beside Maedhros and Fingon, tucking her legs underneath herself as she settled on the deck.
“Arafinwë will come later?” Maedhros asked.
“And Turukáno and his family, and hopefully any of the others that have young children.” Indis sighed. “Or that is the plan, so long as they agree.”
Maedhros looked over at Curufin and Celebrimbor. “Do you not think the lands will be safe for children?”
If Indis said no, it would be hard to convince Curufin to stay behind, especially for the last boats and with only a few moments before they departed, but Maedhros would have to try. Possibly Maedhros could convince him to wait for the next round of ships by stressing the need for someone to keep an eye on Fingolfin and Finarfin. Curufin would likely appreciate that reasoning. If not, Maedhros would have to appeal to their father’s concern for his only grandchild and hope Fëanor would order them to wait.
“He will be fine,” Indis said. “It is less the danger that concerns me, though that must be accounted for, and more the logistics of how we will live at first. I would like us to have some shelters built before we are overrun with all in need of them.”
Maedhros shifted from foot to foot, glancing at Fingon. Shelters would have to be at the top of the list for when they arrived. Likely there would be other things as well that Maedhros had not yet thought of, and that he would need to press Indis for more knowledge of before they arrived.
He had almost opened his mouth to ask more questions, when the boat began to shift. The ropes holding them to the dock untangled as they pulled away, waves gently knocking against the sides of the ship. Behind them, Maedhros could hear others of their host begin to stand and look across the ocean.
“At least the hard part is over,” one of the others muttered behind them. “So long as the Teleri don’t take us and forget to return with the others.”
Indis’ hands rested heavily on the rail as she stood and looked forward. When finally the others had left, and it was only Fingon who remained beside them, Maedhros cleared his throat. “You do not agree?”
The water continued to lap against the boat for several minutes before Indis finally answered. “I am afraid that convincing Olwë was the easiest task we shall have.”
Maedhros followed her gaze across the sea. Fingon looked the same way as well. There was little there they could see yet, and it felt all the more ominous for Indis’ words.
“Will you tell us more of those lands before we arrive?” Fingon asked after a moment. “I know there is more to the stories you used to tell us than what we know.”
“Your grandfather wished you all to not know of what we had suffered,” Indis said. After a moment, she shook her head. “It is too late for that now. Yes, I shall tell you, and your brothers and father as well if they will listen to me, Maitimo. There are dangers there you have not even heard of before, and some of Morgoth’s old servants are likely to still lurk in wait for us.”
The chances of Fëanor listening were low, Maedhros thought. At least not directly, though he would probably listen if Maedhros spoke to him later. But Maglor would likely come. Celegorm could be convinced by Indis’ bow and the way she now reminded all who saw her of Aredhel. Caranthir might come, and though Curufin would choose to remain by their father’s side, Celegorm could tell him later. Amrod and Amras would come, or Maedhros would drag them to listen regardless of what they wished.
“I think most of my brothers will listen,” Maedhros said after a moment’s thought. He wished he could remain on the deck, but his father likely waited for Maedhros to return and tell him of what all Indis had said, and Fingon likely wished to spend time with Indis now that they were the only ones not of Fëanor’s house on the ship.
“I will speak to them and see who will come,” Maedhros said as he turned. “You two speak now. I will return as soon as I can.”
The last he saw of them as he stepped below deck was Indis pulling Fingon closer to her, her long cloak wrapping around the both of them, as Fingon leaned his head against her shoulder and the dark sea unfolded before them.