(300 words)

Olwë stared up at Taniquetil's peaks, allowing the other riders in the train traveling from Alqualonde to pass him. Arafinwë paused at his side, silent, waiting for him. It was Arafinwë who had been summoned to Lord Manwë's presence, not him. It was the leader of the remnants of the Noldor, the one son of Finwë who had never expected to become heir to his father's kingdom, who had been given the message. A stern-looking Maia clothed in white with a sky blue tabard embroidered with the eagle sigil of the Elder King had appeared in the council room of Olwë's palace three days after his son-in-law had appeared out of the darkness and begged his forgiveness.

"I am Nornoros, of the People of Manwë. I bear a message to Arafinwë son of Finwë."

Olwë was secretly ashamed at his relief that it was the younger ellon who was the recipient of the summons, and not himself. Ever since the Kinslaying, he had tried to repress his feelings about the Powers who had allowed Fëanáro and his people to slay his people. The terrible sense of betrayal still churned within him. Why hadn't they come? Why had they allowed the massacre?

Olwë feared that if he did receive a summons from the Valar, he would lose his hard-won control over his grief and rage, and refuse it, defying the Powers and becoming just as much a rebel as the Kinslayer he so hated.

He shuddered and shoved the questions back once more as he urged his mount to follow the rest through the gates of Vanyamar. Arafinwë had begged him to accompany him at least as far as the city of the Vanyar, and so he had. But he could not, dared not take the pathway that led to Ilmarin.