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He timed the progression of the Orctrons by tapping lightly against his knees. The sentries were programmed to move at precise time that he was able to time them. Once the duo had passed, he had three minutes before the next wave would be within sight. Moving as a shadow, he slipped out from his hiding spot and made for the next point. Pressing against the wall, he quickly checked down the hall, his heart dropping as he almost met eyes with another Orctron, and pressing himself harder against the wall he resumed his tapping again against his knee.
Again he repeated this, over and over, until he was far deep into the fleet undetected. It would take another hour or two before he figured out where they were imprisoning his brother, and perhaps an hour more just to figure out an escape route that didn’t involve blasting their way if rescuing Téja meant having to engage in battle with Orctrons pouring in from every direction. Break-outs seldom ever went silently.
He heaved a heavy sigh and wiped his brow. Sleep had been scarce ever since his brother went missing, and though his bones ached, adrenaline kept him going. It was impossible to rest with the thought of where Téja was at this moment, and right now he needed to figure out which unit, which cell, contained Téja.
As he pondered this, that was when he saw a singular bright object like a star floating in the dark just a couple feet from him. His first instinct was to shot it down with his sword, but it could not have been enemy-make, not from how it was structured nor from the strange and beautiful light that it emitted.
It hovered closer until it was jingling right over his head, pulsing and glowing beautifully. And then suddenly it flew off in the distance. Afraid he would be swarmed by enemies, he paid heed to the darkened hall, listening for Orctrons. But none came save for the usual two, passing by seconds later.
Then he saw her.
A woman, clad in all white, hid in the shadows but her eyes, piercing like pure starlight, were poised on him. She grinned, and he felt a sudden urge to follow, to chase this starlit woman in the enemy fleet. The same light of that star that had previously hovered above him shone in her eyes.
You are behaving foolishly he told himself. This is very much unlike yourself. But unable to resist the mounting urge, he leapt from his hiding spot and pounced into the next hall where the woman had been hiding. She was no where in sight, the light instantly gone. Looking up, he saw she had climbed up a ladder. She smiled down at him, winking and pressing a finger to her lips. He gripped the handles of the ladder and followed up, his eyes ever following the strange starlight in the never-ending dark.
She took him down unfamiliar halls, passing through enemies’ backs without a single word, making themselves pass like shadows, undetected by any Orctron or capturing the watchful Eye of any surveillance camera.
He wondered where she was taking him. He hoped she somehow knew of his mission, but the longer they traveled, the more distraught he became.
“Starlight Woman, we are getting too far from—!”
She spun around and pressed her palm over his mouth, again repeating her earlier gesture. Stay silent.
But we are almost out! he pointed and waved at the airlocked doors. She smiled and tapped on her helmet, setting on her visor and motioning for him to do the same.
Feeling resigned and defeated, he followed suit. At the very least she had not handed him off to the hands of the enemy. She held no marking or showed any sign that she was aligned with Morgoth, so there was that at least. In truth, he could not quite place her kind. Are you from the Moriquend? sat at the tip of his lips but he knew better to babble off the name of a known enemy in this vicinity.
If she somehow knew of his reason for being here, perhaps she knew a better route. He just had to trust her, resort back to the earlier feeling he had when he first encountered the floating star above his head.
She set off the doors and they peered out into the cosmos. Nothing awaited them. Then she extended out her hand and the star whirled past before expanding into a craft just big enough for her to hold on to the rails. Finding only one set of bars, he wrapped his arms around her waist and they kicked off.
The craft blasted off, taking them further away the enemy fleet. He glanced back with a frown, wondering where all this would lead him, before suddenly spotting a new spacecraft heading their way. He felt the woman’s body vibrate with laughter as they made for the brightly-tinted craft, its wide doors opening to receive them.
As they flew inside a song filled his ears, setting his nerves at ease. It was moments later that he realized it was the song commanding the doors to remain open; the song shifted, and the doors shut right behind them. With a laugh the woman sped on till they landed neatly on the runway and dismounted.
⁑⁂⁑
Once inside, he glanced around in awe at the interior architecture of the spacecraft, clearly crafted by an exceedingly advanced and intelligent race. Perhaps, he thought with some slight apprehension, more so than his. As if to make a point, his sword hung against his side, brushing against a leg. He gripped his sword tighter to himself.
“Ah, my niece! Welcome back from your journey! And you’ve brought us the man I seek!”
He turned to find a large group coming to receive them. Once back in her ship, the woman removed her helmet and let her long, jet black hair cascade down. Pointy ears stuck through the sea of black as she hopped out to give one of their receivers a hug: a tall woman with hair like one of the red planets he had passed by earlier that day.
“Good to see you, Írissë!” the woman said before casting her eyes on him. He immediately glanced away in fear. Something had just happened that he couldn’t explain, like the woman was somehow scanning through his thoughts. He focused his attention on the rest of the company.
The king of the people stood tall and proud, and the same starlight that reflected off the woman’s eyes were also in his. He was very tall, and quite handsome, and along the cheekbones of his handsome face were faint red lines.
“You were seeking me?” he said, uncertain.
“Yes,” the man said, “though I do not yet know your name. But one of my nephews has had visions of you in his dreams multiple times as of late. He told me what you are capable of doing. I grew intrigued.
“You’ve come to the spaceship of the Ñoldori. I am Fëanáro Finwion, the king of the Ñoldori from Valinor and captain of this fleet.”
He bowed respectfully. “A pleasure to meet you. I am Eöl-i-Morwédi.”
“Of the Moriquend Belt?” Fëanáro said, smiling. “We have not come across the peoples of there that often.”
Eöl nodded. “No, perhaps not. Morgoth had decimated the homeworlds of the Moriquend many times. We are scattered. Had it not been for the ironhearted Khazâd keeping him off, the entire belt would have fallen into his reign. But many are without their homes, including myself and one other. We remained close for we were all we had. Now I go searching for him: my brother Téja-i-Morwédi. I believe he was taken during the last raid. We had escaped into our ship and were undisturbed for a time, but after ten cycles of the nearest moon we were attacked. I was knocked unconscious during the battle. When I had come to, he was gone.”
“And you believe Morgoth had taken Téja into his fleet?”
“Yes,” Eöl said. He kept shooting glances at the red-haired woman in vague fear, growing tense. “Either dead or made prisoner, I know not which, nor do I think I want to know. I just want him back.”
The woman nodded sympathetically, though Eöl’s shoulders remained tense at the sight of her eyes.
“Do you find Nerdana intimidating?” Fëanáro asked.
“Just…confused,” Eöl confessed. “I feel as though my mind is being scanned.”
“Because that is indeed happening. That is her ability,” Fëanáro explained. “For you see, each of the Ñoldori were born with a gift. Írissë can invoke desire inside others; that was how she was easily able to persuade you to trust and follow her even without use of a single word. My wife Nerdana can look into minds. One of my sons, Makalaurë, can manipulate anything with his voice; he does so normally as songs.”
“The doors,” Eöl said, nodding towards the young man who bowed back respectively.
“Precisely,” Fëanáro said.
“A pity that we cannot entice Morgoth a desire to cease his reign or sing him away from all of us.”
A number of the Ñoldori chuckled.
“I’m afraid our powers fall short of the Black Foe,” Makalaurë said, his voice heavenly even when he was not singing.
“Like a black hole, he absorbs all of the Ñoldori’s powers,” said another, perhaps a sibling of Makalaurë’s. “Direct combat with him is impossible. Just ask Ñolof-”
“May I see your sword?” Fëanáro interjected to Eöl, who had a feeling he was trying to change the subject. “I could not help but take note of its blade. I am a smith myself and…ah…”
Not wishing to prolong the awkward shift in conversation, Eöl drew out his sword and presented it to the captain, who took it with clear wonder in his eyes. He fell silent for several long moments as his long fingers traced the shaft of the sword.
“I’m afraid my brother had its twin,” Eöl said. “I only ever made two, though I do carry a satchel with remnants of the materials they were made from.”
“This must have come from a rare comet,” Fëanáro said. “I have only heard tales of it.”
Eöl gave a curt nod. “The sword itself is made from Mortriyrhil crystals found in the mineral called galvorn. There was plentiful of that in the comet that struck close to our home many eons ago. Most had gone into making those swords, but I carry what’s left in the event should I need them. I do not wish to waste any crystals from such a rare mineral. You appeared quite interested in this.”
“The craftsmanship is beyond any of my smiths,” Fëanáro said, awed.
Recalling his earlier words, Eöl studied Fëanáro for a few moments, wondering as to the nature of his being summoned. “Do you wish to commission me, captain and king?”
Fëanáro handed the sword back. “Of a sort. I was thinking more along the lines of us collaborating on weapon-making for our mission in infiltrating this fleet. We are both seeking something. Together, we can both gain.”
Eöl crossed his arms, suddenly intrigued by the idea of teasing the Ñoldori before him. Though he had to be careful as not to insult him before his followers and family. “Oh? And what of yourself? I would be very interested in seeing your work.”
Fëanáro grinned. “Yes, indeed. And they were my greatest creations: three crystals which held light from Valinor before they were lost. One we still have, which propels this spacecraft. One which Morgoth now possess. One which is lost.”
“Light of Valinor?”
“Light of our sun-star and moon: Laurelin and Telperion.”
“You can touch the light of the gods?” Eöl said incredulously. The moon would have been easy enough, but the sun-star… “How?”
Fëanáro held us his own sword and grinned, as suddenly the entire shaft of the sword lit in flame.
“I was bestowed with the gift of fire, Eöl of the Moriquend Belt,” Fëanáro said proudly. “I can touch any star or sun and not get burned. My entire form can turn to fire at will, or I can cast fire right in my palm.”
He demonstrated with his free hand and touched the tip of Eöl’s sword. Eöl watched the flames lick around the shaft, not affecting the integrity of his work but, somehow, igniting within it a power and light, like it had awoken the true properties of the Mortriyrhil crystals. The black crystals glimmered, nearly blinding Eöl that he had to glance away.
“Then you are a master smith,” Eöl said, astounded, “if what I’m seeing is true. You can bring out the best in any metal you touch.”
Fëanáro chuckled. “And some say I bring out the worst in all who know me.”
“I do not believe that.”
“Then you have not worked with me.”
“Should I take that as an offer, then?”
The smirk was hard to miss.
⁑⁂⁑
Eöl was then escorted down to the forge. A vast room much unlike the one back home, Eöl was surprised to find very little in the way of supplies until he reminded himself that Fëanáro apparently did not have much need for them. He must have mainly forged with his mind and hands alone.
The very thought terrified and thrilled him.
They went through a series of weapons, from swords and shields and light saber hilts (Fëanáro’s son Atarinkë would later add the lasers) to complex blaster guns, large enough to be carried by two hands, which would be loaded with energies later on. Occasionally another Ñoldori stopped by to offer their hand in the craftwork, and again Eöl was left in wonderment. The peoples of Valinor were alive and alit in ways he could not describe. Their minds were as if on fire, creating and forging and bonding and commanding the elements all with mere thought. How very different they were of the peoples of the Moriquend Belt, even the Khazâd, who all were known to be close to the earth. They loved the soils of their lands and toiled and worked with it endlessly. Their very cradles and tombs were crafted of clay out of the earth itself, a mark of the deep fondness for the lands taken from them by the Black Foe.
The peoples of Valinor had suffered as well, Eöl reminded himself as he watched Fëanáro collaborate with sons Makalaurë and Atarinkë. The captain’s face glowed with beauty and joy as as Makalaurë sang. Atarinkë’s eyes were glowing a dark tone, some sort of red or violet, and casting a light into the hilt of a light saber as Makalaurë wove words into songs into power, bending light with each note. Then Fëanáro touched the hilt and the light-filled shaft of the saber shot up, a vibrant shade singing in the middle of the room.
Fëanáro’s laughter rang out, reverberating in Eöl’s chest. He glanced away, half-smiling, and refocused his attention on the next set of projects he and Fëanáro had agreed to earlier. The creation of them was astoundingly simple. Using the Mortriyrhil crystals, he shaped and molded several dozen small metal balls, all small enough to fit in his palm.
“How are you faring?” Fëanáro asked, coming up right behind him and peering over his shoulder. Eöl quickly glanced around him, noting that they were alone again.
“Quite well, considering I am in the presence of a highly cerebral race and am admittedly intimidated,” Eöl said. “But I am honored you found me suitable enough to join you on this mission.”
“I admired your talents the moment Findaráto spoke to me of them.”
“You flatter me,” Eöl said.
“I mean every word,” Fëanáro said with a dark smile and slightly narrowed eyes. “I do not hand out underserved compliments. Perhaps you may find our abilities so exceedingly different from your own peoples’ that you find it superior, perhaps? But I assure it isn’t so. For I, in fact, cannot phantom how you can structure such magnificence with perfect accuracy with your own hands.”
As he spoke this, one hand ghosted over Eöl’s, sliding up before he picked up one of the Mortriyrhil alloy balls.
“Once I ignite this we have only ten seconds to escape the vicinity into safety,” he said. “Pity to see your work destroyed like this.”
“But it may come to save us,” Eöl said. “Or possibly rescue a few lives. We might escape with Téja and the Silmaril with this buying us time.”
Fëanáro smiled. “That is true.”
As he set the alloy ball down, a wave of dizziness washed over Eöl. Fëanáro must have sensed it because he gripped his shoulders.
“You have helped me well tonight, Eöl. We will speak more of this later. For now, rest up.”
⁑⁂⁑
Írissë had shown up again to show Eöl to his room. She nearly glided down the corridor, singing and mostly talking to herself than to him, her eyes glimmering as much as the jewel of her circlet. It was hard to imagine this was the same person who had taken him past enemies’ backs without a sound, but then, Eöl imagined anyone with an ability like hers would grow up to be exceedingly carefree.
Once they reached the destination, he thanked her and tried to make himself comfortable in his new temporary pad, though sleep, unsurprisingly, still did not come. He had worked to his limits for the first time in a while, and still sleep did not come.
Eöl sighed. He did not know how long he would be staying with them. He guessed not longer than the mission itself, unless if Fëanáro wished for him to stay longer.
Just as he thought this, a knock came on the door. Wondering if it was Írissë returning, he answered and immediately bowed when he saw Fëanáro.
“Captain.”
“I wished to see how you were enjoying your room, and if you needed anything before we rise for the mission.”
“I am well, albeit rest will not come easy,” Eöl said. “It has not been easy for me for these past several months, you must understand, but it is nothing against yourself or your people. Sleep has become a scarce visitor for me.”
“Perhaps if I may help you?”
Fëanáro offered this as a hand went up to caress Eöl’s cheek. Realizing his intention, Eöl’s eyes widened.
“But are you and Nerdana not…?”
“We have enjoyed many wondrous years of marriage, yes,” Fëanáro said. “She bore me seven sons and we’ve raised them to adulthood. But to keep her glued to me forever would be a disservice for both of us. It has been many eons. She deserves freedom, as do I, and taking in another lover is not uncommon at this stage of a Ñoldori’s life. We work in friendship still, as you’ve seen, and she has found you trustworthy when you entered our fleet.”
Warmth glowed where Fëanáro kept his hand against Eöl’s cheek, and he leaned into the touch. Getting cozy and warm could help him to relax, and if this went where he thought it would be headed, he could almost guarantee he would be fast asleep by the end of it.
As if reading his mind, Fëanáro swept in for a kiss, his lips hot and the need behind as fiery as Eöl had perceived it. He was frozen on the spot, taken aback but the suddenness before melting into the kiss and returning in same, hungry and eager.
“And have you wished for this ever since your nephew spoke of your dreams?” Eöl asked, slightly breathless. He couldn’t help the tease when they broke away.
Fëanáro grinned. “You could say that.”
“Then come inside, my captain,” Eöl said, stepping aside, one hand holding the warm of Fëanáro Finwion.