Teleri

Clash of steel.

Sparks.

The young elf desperately parried.

The last strike disarmed him.

Dear diary,

King Finwë was slain, the Two Trees were destroyed and the Silmarils were stolen. Darkness can be felt on every side of Aman. I saw a kinslaying with my own eyes. I, my sisters and my mother and father fought against the kinslayers who desired to steal our ships. My father was slain in front of my eyes. Many of the Ñoldor left Valinor, following Lord Fingolfin and Fëanor. Lord Finarfin would start a march as well, though he returned to Valinor. But I and my sisters and mother went on and caught up with Fingolfin.

V.Y 1495

Dear diary,

The light of Laurelin is shining brightly, and Telperion is resting. I, my family and Calaerneth have returned to Alqualondë from the Gardens of Lórien, yet I sense something bad. While we were resting in the Gardens of Lórien, I saw a dream, a vision. I believe Lord Irmo is trying to give us a warning... 

Rightly is it recorded that few of my folk were willing to go forth to war, even to support the host of the Valar, the Vanya, and the Noldor remnant. We remembered the slaughter at Alqualonde; who amongst us could forget! But we paid heed to the words of the Lady Elwing, and so did our part in providing enough mariners to sail the assembled hosts east, to do battle against Morgoth.

It is also said than we stayed fast upon our ships, and that none set foot upon the land of Endor.

Naurdam strode across the courtyard to his waiting steed. He had spent the past few months within the valley of Imladris and he was keen to be out on the road once more. He had visited the Halls of Lord Elrond on only a handful of previous occasions since their creation and on this most recent trip it had proven hard to mask his displeasure at finding the Halls open to not only the race of man but to the race of Dwarves also.

And the seamen saw an Elf with golden manes, reaching down to the end of his spine. His voice was fair and virtuous, pure and unstained. 

~

Gaze no longer, cometh hither!

Ulmo, lord of all that is water

King of the sea, send thy vassal

He that is Ossë, let him speak to us

We yearn for thy counsel, O glorious water-lord

In a world that grows arid,

grant us thy rain!

~

Winds, catch our sails!

The evening air in Celondim was mild and despite the sun setting early in this season, a soft glow of twilight still lay over the horizon where the vale opened West towards the sea.
In the circle of statues overlooking the river a bit away from the docks, a chatter of glad voices indicated a meeting of friends. The gathering seemed merry and relaxed, fair faces and voices sharing their stories.
A round of applause indicated a story had just ended and the storyteller, a beautiful elf-lady clad in green robes, bowed and smiled into the round.

The Timeline of the Bar-en-Linquëlossë and the Bar-en-Wilwarin

Years of the Trees