It is the Year of Lamentation in the lore of the Elves, a time of deep sorrow and deeper despair. None of the Elves who set out to battle have returned from the Unnumbered Tears, and only rumors flying down the wind reach the Elves of the Falas. The tales speak of the armies of the Shadow pouring out of the North, ravaging all the lands from what was once Hithlum and Dor-Lómin south to Arvernien and the eaves of Nimbrethil. For months after that terrible summer Círdan, lord of the Falathrim, dispatches swift ships that harry the Enemy with numerous landings and brief, sharp battles along the coasts.
Later that next year, the forces of the Enemy bring their might to bear on the Falas, and both the cities of Brithombar and Eglarest are besieged. Seeing that little help might arrive in time, Círdan begins sending the women and children aboard ships bound for the Isle of Balar, the refuge upon the ocean. The Falathrim wait almost too long, for the last eight ships depart Eglarest just as the city is breached and put to the torch.
Further disaster strikes, or perhaps Fate intervenes; for at the peak of their plans to depart, the Enemy attacks the harbor with great engines and stone-casts that batter the quays and the ships themselves. The first three ships manage to get under way, but the other five are smashed to debris and sunk before they can escape the harbor. Many perish in the waters or the wrecked ships; the surviving vessels turn about and rescue as many as can be saved.
Aboard one vessel is an Elven mariner, who casts a line to a flailing maiden and hauls her to safety on the deck; sputtering and choking on sea-water, she cannot speak for some time. The mariner is struck by not only the girl’s pitiable state, but by the odd look in her eye, one of blazing rage whenever she looks back at the now-fiery ruin of Eglarest.
The mariner sincerely tries to help her. “Here, young one, take my cloak and warm yourself. What are you called? Can you still not speak? Do not try, you may injure yourself further. I shall watch for you and we shall speak later.” The girl’s only reply is a hoarse whisper, “Thank you…”
After several days at sea the ship makes landfall at the Isle of Balar, and after debarking the mariner and the young Elf-maid begin to share words. She learns that she is one of the few survivors of the ship she boarded, and that the family she was with perished in the water. The mariner is shocked by her reaction, for she counts their deaths as no loss.
“They were family in name only,” she says, “for they loved not and cared less; they were of the Kinslayers, and not of the Falathrim.”
“Harsh words to use, even if they are called for,” the mariner replies. “But lo, we are here in Balar, your new home, and my old one; and also the home of many of the Kinslayers, as you name them. I have come to know that they are not all of a piece; you shall find good hearts among their number, as I have; for I am wed to one.”
“I thought by law there were no weddings during time of war?”
“That is true; and we did not wed in war, but long ago while the lands still knew peace for a time. But now, maid, I wish to have you answer one thing for me: in all this passage, you have yet to tell me your name. May I learn it now?”
“Call me Seregrían.”
The mariner starts at the name. “Call you ’Blood-queen’! A harsh name for a harsh girl-child. Your true parents must have had ominous portents regarding you.”
“My parents are dead, both the birth and the foster. Only I am master of my paths, and to the Darkness with any portents. I shall chart my own course, just as you steer your ship for your next passage.”
“Well, I say to you, Seregrían, lost girl that you are, I shall perhaps help you chart that new course; and let this be your beacon.” The mariner unclasps a bright red gem that hangs from his collar and presents it to her. “Take this now and make your way from the harbor to the houses there. Ask for the House of Anorwë, it shall be easy to find. There present yourself to the lady of the house and show her this pendant with these words: Carcírion sends his love, and this maid, to your house. I shall take my leave and await further news of you.” The mariner smiles impishly and bows in farewell as he moves off to tend to his ship.
Seregrían does as she is bid, more out of curiosity than any else. At the House of Anorwë, she is led to the lady of the house, a woman clearly of Noldorin heritage, but with russet hair instead of sable, and a smile that looked to burst out laughing at any moment. At the sight of the pendant, and upon hearing Seregrían’s message, she does indeed laugh happily.
“So my beloved is well and sends you to our house! My husband Carcírion did not make jest with you. He invites you to abide with us and be one with our family. Be welcome, young Seregrían, and leave behind you any fear and despair. I am Gilalaith, and I wish for you to consider this your new home!”
“You would take in a orphan, clearly not of your kin?” Seregrían asks.
”I took into my heart one not of my kin,” Gilalaith smiles, “for my dear Carcírion is of the Sindar. You are of Elven-kind, and that is all that matters. And I do say to you,” she says as she looks long and deeply at Seregrían, “perhaps something is at work here: the Blood-queen meets the Red Mariner, do you see?”
So begins Seregrían’s life with the House of Anorwë, and within one year Carcírion and Gilalaith host a feast for their neighbors and recite the Gwethnoss, the Bond of Family, declaring Seregrían to be their ward and of their house.
And for the first time in two years, Seregrían allows herself to smile.
Next Chapter: "Feast of the First Year"
