Prologue: The Road

Year of the Trees 1190 (546 solar years after the Noldor and Vanyar arrive in Aman):

The road between Vanyamar and Tirion-on-Túna made surprising detours along the way, Valandur Voronwion of the Vanyar thought as he followed in the train of the other Vanyar following the High King. Much like my life. He forced himself not to think about that. Instead, he reflected on the road. Leaving the southern gate of Vanyamar, it wended its way southwest through fields and farmland before turning almost due west until it met with a track that led north.

And track it was, barely visible yet there nonetheless, leading nowhere in particular save to the royal hunting lodge that was nestled in the midst of the royal preserve, a stretch of forest that ran for several leagues north and south and westward for many more. The road, upon meeting the track, veered south again for a little way before bending southeast, crossing through low-ranging hills before again heading southwest so that it entered the town of Eldamas (where those Elves who served the Valar resided) from the north. The road then continued through the town to the north gate of Valmar, made of black meteoric iron studded with diamonds.

From there the road, as a road, disappeared and one entered the city of the Powers between the mansions of the Elder King and the Smith of the World, crossing the upper region of the Landemallë Valion to pass between Lord Manwë’s mansion and that of the Lord of Waters, before reaching the eastern gate of mithril and pearls. After that, the road was straightforward enough, heading almost due east until it reached Tirion, the city of the Noldor.

Valandur paused in his contemplation. Once Tirion had been the only city of the Eldar who had settled in Valinor, but with the founding of Vanyamar, that had changed. Now there were three cities — three cities for three clans — for Alqualondë had been built for the Teleri. Indeed, it was only just completed. Vanyamar….

Valandur remembered the hurt looks of his Noldorin friends when he had told them of Ingwë’s decision to move closer to the Valar and settle on Taniquetil and that the Vanyar had agreed to join him.

“But we just finished building this city,” his otorno, Calandil, had protested, his grey eyes full of confusion. “Why would you want to leave it?”

Valandur had no easy answer. He hesitated to speak of the growing restlessness that the Vanyar had felt among the Noldor. Even his atar had commented on it and Voronwë was not one to notice anything or anyone outside the small circle of like-minded poets and bards with whom he associated. If even someone like his own atar noticed it then it was obvious that the restlessness among the Noldor was more widespread than one would believe. He silently agreed with Ingwë that it was better for the Vanyar to remove themselves from such influence.

But he could not tell his friends that. “We wish to draw closer to the Valar,” was the answer he gave and it was true enough as far as it went but it was not the whole truth. It had not been an easy decision, by any means, and the consequences were still reverberating among them. Naturally, there had been some hard feelings on both sides, though some of the younger Noldor had traveled to Taniquetil to help with the initial laying down of the foundations, but they did not stay to finish the job, leaving the Vanyar to do that.

And the Vanyar would probably still be at it, Valandur reflected sourly, if Lord Manwë had not taken pity on them and offered the services of his Maiar to help with the building. That had not sat well with the Noldor. Never mind that in the building of Tirion, Maiar had helped as well, but, in truth, the bulk of the work had been done by the Elves. It escaped no one’s notice, Ingwë’s especially, that when Olwë finally led his people from Tol Eressëa, Finwë sent his finest masons to help with the building of the city which the Teleri desired.

The Vanyar were not invited to help.

Valandur frowned at that thought, then shrugged. It was the past and whatever resentment there might be between the Vanyar and the Noldor had dissipated in the Peace of the Valar. With Ingwë’s invitation to Finwë to come to Taniquetil for rest and healing after Mírel’s untimely departure and his meeting with the Lady Indis, Ingwë’s sister, and their subsequent marriage, the breach that lay between the two clans had healed to some extent and relations were further improved once Ingwë had begun instituting trade agreements between the three clans.

Or rather, they had been much improved.

Which thought brought him to remember his present predicament. He felt himself blushing with embarrassment, glad that he was riding in the back where none could see. He had been so amazed when he had been selected to join Lord Ingoldo’s trade delegation to Tirion, he who had only recently been awarded the title of Loremaster from the Academy, and had felt such pride in that accomplishment.

He snorted quietly to himself. Pride. Yes, a whole lot of pride and arrogance and now he was heading home in disgrace because of it. He shook his head, wondering how that had happened. Well, of course, he knew how it had happened. What he didn’t know was why. All he did know was that Ingwë was not pleased and that thought hurt more than anything, even more than the disappointment of his parents when they learned what had happened.

And it had started so well when the Ingaran had summoned him to his study one day….

****

Landemallë Valion: Avenue of the Valar.

Atar: Father.

Ingaran: High King of the Elves; Ingwë’s title.