Chapter Text
Author’s Foreword
I certainly had not planned on the next project right away but several friends asked me about the backstory of “Raven’s Blade” especially all the events of the First Age I touched upon. Blame Tara6 and Mimi_Sardinia for it! And I will honestly admit, that this is a project I approach a bit apprehensively, because I have great respect of Tolkien’s work and this will deviate from his story-telling in style and events in many places. Many elements I mentioned in “Raven’s Blade” will show up here – the Silver Throne and the First Dwarven Kingdom, Egandîr and his friendship with Maglor… Aelin and what exactly it was he did in Sirion havens. Probably also Ulfang, Bor and their choices up to a certain battle and the journey might stray into Angband itself at times. (Those who know me, know why.)
This story can be read without knowing the entire “Raven’s Blade” Arc, but those who know might recognize some characters again. I cannot yet say how swiftly this story will write, as I am treading new territory here. I will try and make notes about greater deviations from canon, and give reasons for them, where possible.
For this chapter the changes are the following: The War for the sake of the Elves and the Great Journey/Great Sundering are in canon events happening after one another – here they are happening at the same time. The Valar have called the Elves to Valinor, and at the same time they attack Melkor, to ensure he cannot harm the Firstborn. It is a change mainly for dramatic reasons.
Generally I will be deviating from the numbers Tolkien gives – regarding Elves and Dwarves. The Elves are more than 144 and the Dwarves were sent to sleep with more than just their spouses, but with the basics of their entire tribe. This is done, to simply explain how they could develop into a full race and found such realms so swiftly. As for the Dwarves – they woke AFTER the Elves, but as Tolkien never said when exactly, I chose that it was not all that long after.
Language wise: I have yet to decide if I go with the Quenya names of the Noldor in this story, or if I should use their Sindarized named early for reader’s ease. In “Raven’s Blade” I had Maedhros mostly use his epessë Russandol, which was his way of creating some distance between himself and his legend. Now, I am not sure if I should simply use Maedhros, to make this story easier to be read, or if I should better go with Maitimo at first and switch during the run of the story. I am in no way an expert on Elven Languages and find them confusing more often than not.
Lastly: Those who already know “Raven’s Blade” won’t be surprised finding unknown names here – in this time frame more than ever I might be forced to invent the one or other character, especially to fill up the ranks of the dark side. Now: on to the story!
Prologue: A path through the wilderness
The stars glistened coldly in the dark skies above and sometimes Rávaner believed he could see the reflections in the ice-capped peaks high above them. The glistening ice sparkled in such moments like jewels of the cold, a light that alone would have made him curious to try and reach those regions high above. The Mountains had loomed in their path for a long time, visible from afar and they certainly had discouraged more than a few of the others, not to speak of those who had fallen behind in the great forests. Rávaner did try not to think about them, he had enough of the others to find already, to think of those where he exactly knew where they were. How far ahead would Finwë be already by now? Too far ahead he feared, the wandering through the wilds had drawn the groups apart.
Spotting a familiar figure between the trees on the Mountainside he sped up his pace to reach him. “Turayne, I feared I would not find you, Wérano said that you missed the pass.” Stepping through the undergrowth between the trees he saw that Turayne was squatted down beside another figure, his bow was still at hand, his entire stance was guarded.
“I followed your brother, Rávaner, hoping to dissuade him from his chosen course,” he replied in a hush, “but I came upon the dangers we were warned about.”
Walking closer Rávaner looked down on the prone figure on the ground beside Turayne. “Was it this thing?” he asked, frowning. “What an ugly creature is this?”
“I do not know, but he was no danger for me,” Turyane shook his head, “he fled from some darker things that hunted him. I shot them, but their remains fell into the ravine, so I do not know whether they were beast or other things.”
“It seems quite dead too,” Rávaner did not want to touch the hairy thing on the ground, it was the ugliest creature he had yet seen and he was certain that the warning of dark things roaming these lands extended to them, meant such creatures.
“He was injured,” Turyane seemed amused by his disgust, but his friend had always been the one to go out and time the wild things, no matter how dangerous or ugly they were. “I did what I could, but his broken ribs will inconvenience him for a while. And he is certainly no best, though I do not know what else he might be. He is none of our kin.”
Now, upon a closer look, Rávaner noticed a familiar sparkled near the creatures neck – how could that neck be covered by so much hair? Or was it even fur? What beings grew fur in their faces? “You gave him your lifestone, Turayne? Why? You made this stone back by the lake… and you will need it when we go on. It is a long way still to go.”
Turayne rose, spreading his travelling cloak over the unconscious figure. “He will not heal without the stone, and I can well go on without one. You came this far quite well without one, my friend. Let us not argue about it.”
Rávaner inclined his head, accepting Turyane’s wish, their friendship often meant that they would forgo arguing points were they were vastly different. “Wéron and the others will need your to make the crossing,” he came back to the point why he had chased after Turyane. “And what was that about my brother – and where is Larcanor and his friends?”
“They went North, hoping that these Mountains might end somewhere and they could go around them,” Turyane sighed, “I had hoped to convince at least your brother that this was foolishness, but he said the pass was nothing they could cross. Larcanor went with him, though I fear he might still wish to go back to the forest lands.”
“We were warned not to go North, it is dangerous there,” Rávaner took the warning seriously, though there was a side to him that wondered what might lie up there that they should not see. “Go back to Wéron, Turayne, I will chase after them and bring them back.” He had done so before while they had crossed the wilds, finding those who got lost or strayed from the path. Unafraid to brave the vast dark wilderness alone, it had earned him any number of nicknames from his friends, but in the end it was necessary.
“I hope you will find them swiftly,” Turyane said, before he took off to return to Wéron and the others. Rávaner watched him leave, glad that Turayne had listened, for some reason he had wondered if his friend might stay with this strange creature he had saved. It would be so like him. No, they had to go on, they had promised they would. Without further delay he took off towards the North, following the long chain of Mountains that seemed to reach the stars themselves.
TRB
Rávaner counted the time of his passing through the wilds by the rise and falling of several bright stars that circled the skies in a regular pattern, the entire constellation reminded him of an archer, and the chain of three pronouncedly shining stars forming a belt in the skies was easy to spot. It had passed through the skies twelve times since he had set out to find his brother and the other lost ones. The Mountain chain remained high and forbidding to his left, and the grounds were rough, but those things hardly assailed him. The further he made his path through the wilderness, the more his heart sung, trees whispered in the winds, now and then he heard the murmuring of waters and the stars lit his path always.
Here and there he found traces of the other’s passage, telling him he was still on the right trail. It was the thirteenth time he saw the constellation of the archer rise, when he finally saw them – they had deviated from their path alongside the mountains and now were slowly moving through the more even grounds below. Rávaner frowned, there were too many rivers and creeks going towards that plain, it might look inviting but he was sure it was murky. Ornamo would not have been tempted to choose the easy path again and ended up in a swamp?
Keeping to the mountains as long as he could, Rávaner followed them, only entering the plains when he had no choice if he wanted to reach them. He was not surprised to find himself in the murk swiftly, ever light on his feet he found his path by jumping from one save spot to the next, but it made traversing these grounds harder than following the mountains. When he reached the travelers he easily recognized his brother Ornamo, who stood at the top of the column arguing with Itilano. Seeing his brother and best friend argue was not something Rávener had wished to find, but at least he had found them, though he could still not see any trace of Larcanor and his comrades.
His approach had been spotted by them, for their arguing ended and they turned around. “Rávanor,” Ornamo’s voice echoed some disbelief. “I had not expected you to come after us.”
“And I had not expected you to get lost in the wilds,” Rávaner replied, greeting Itilano with a short hug, glad to see him alive and well. “you strayed so much off the path I began to worry you might have gone back to the woodlands.”
“I merely chose to search for a better path,” Ornamo argued, “but now that you have found us, you will certainly be able to guide us out of these swamps.”
“I already told you it was best we went back and tried for the pass,” Itilano spoke up, “be it the one we were pointed to or the one Larcanor thought he found.”
Ornamo straightened up and Rávaner recognized the warning sign – his brother disliked being questioned, especially by those he perceived as younger and lesser than him. “We will not go back, Itilano, these mountains will end and we will go around them. It is too long a path to now turn back. I will not have it.”
Rávaner wondered where his brother found his confidence at times, but he also saw the nods of many in the group. They would not listen, thus he’d have to find another way. “First we need to get out of these swamps,” he said firmly, “I hope we will find Larcanor somewhere on the other side of the Mountains, or I will have to search for him too.” He walked past his brother to take the lead of the group, ahead North lay uncharted grounds.
TRB
Nine risings and fallings of the Archer’s star later Rávaner began to doubt his own skill in navigating these wilds, the swamps had dragged on endlessly, and when he had finally found his way out of them, things had not improved much. A rough land without trees stretched before them, rocks and bushes alternating with small ponds glittering in the starlight. The mountains to their left truly did end, but the grounds they now had to traverse to circumvent their Northern end were not any easier than the pass had been.
Most of the time he focused on finding a way together with Itilano and ignoring his brother and his speeches, it was the best way to get along, otherwise they would end up in an inevitable argument. Though now, they were not so far off one, anyway. Ornamo had insisted on not crossing the great ravine that blocked their path, but climb down and follow the bottom of the deep chasm, as it would be easier to walk and they would find an easy way to climb out eventually. Only that the ravine had stretched further North, until it became so narrow and rough that it took all their skill to follow it further.
Rávaner had found water when the Archer rose again, in a wellspring under a heavy overhang of rocks, though he was surprised that the water pouring from the rocks was warm and tasted oddly. But it was water, enough for them to drink and continue onwards. They had gathered by the small wellspring when he heard the crack, it sounded painful like the stones themselves were groaning, and suddenly Rávaner felt a terror that he had never felt before, a horror that crept into his blood, he could not tell from whence it came, but it clenched his heart and he found himself unable to move.
The grounds shook, the very stones under their feet began moving, like a deep anger had touched them. “Run!” Rávaner found his way out of the daze, pointing ahead. “away from the overhang!” He all but pushed his brother to move, helping the others to scramble out under the roof of rocks now creaking dangerously low. The grounds shook anew and he saw Itilano fall, running back he grabbed his friend, helping him up, together they sprinted after the others, while the stones shook and the Earth rolled under them like water might roll under a boat.
Thunderous noise rose behind them and when he turned around Rávaner saw the rocks of the overhang come crashing down, the sides of the chasm collapsing in on themselves and the ground opening to swallow some of the stones. Dust rose high, blinding his sight. “Further on, away from the collapse,” he pushed the others again, in the narrow ravine they had only little room but he wanted them as far away from that collapse as he could.
Finally the grounds calmed and the dust settled, but behind them the path was blocked by piles of rock filling the chasm. “We are trapped,” Histelle whispered, her eyes wide in fear. “There is no way out.” They had come to the very end of the ravine, standing between the steep walls and the caved in area.
Rávaner craned his neck to look up the rocks. “We will have to climb,” he said, trying to sound confident. “I will find a path for you. Keep the others together, and help each other while we climb out.”
The rocks were sharp under his fingers, as Rávener pulled himself over another protruding ledge, his hands were tired and his arms bled from the cuts the jagged stones had left on them. Peering back he saw the others following the path he had found for them. If he craned his neck he could see the rim of the ravine further up, it was still quite the path to climb and he was exhausted. Leaning his forehead against the cold stone he wondered if he would have the strength to reach the upper end, to guide the others out. It was not a question he should ask, the others relied on him to find the path.
Pushing himself away from the rim he reached for the next hold, using one hand and a small support for his foot to press on, left of him rose a long sharp ledge, like a blade he reached for that spike and swung his leg up, reaching the upper side, where he again secured the rope that should help the others to follow. Balancing to the inner end of the spike he used what little support he could find in the rock face to continue upwards. His arms burned and he had to be careful that his shaking hands did not miss the small holds in the wall. Finally he reached the upper end of the ravine, putting his hand above the rim, but tiredly his arm slipped, and he desperately struggled to regain his hold, feeling himself slip from the tenuous stand he had.
A strong hand grasped his arm before he could fall, breaking his slide and then pulling him up. A second hand extended to him and he grasped it, using his feet to support the unexpected helper as he was pulled out of the ravine and found himself standing on the high ledge above the chasm. “Careful,” a deep voice spoke, “that den is not a place to traipse around in.”
Looking up Rávaner found himself face to face with a tall stranger, he easily towered Rávaner, though he did not seem disproportionately tall, the finely chiseled features that would easily surpass any elf in beauty, were framed by thick dark hair, keen eyes held Rávener’s gaze so firmly that he would have called them commanding. “We did learn that too,” he replied, though words seemed to fail him at first, “I thought we might never find our way out again.”
“There are more down there?” The stranger asked, “you must have been grave danger indeed to risk wandering such path.” And without waiting for an answer he returned to the edge of the chasm, aiding the others to climb out as well. Eventually all of the elves had reached safe grounds, most of them sitting down to rest after this ordeal.
Rávener turned to the stranger anew. “You have my gratitude for your help, you may well have saved us all.” He said, bowing slightly. “My name is Rávener, and I am in your debt for aiding my people.”
“I doubt you would know my name in your tongue,” the stranger said, “but you may call me Halanor and it would not be wrong.”
Halanor, the Shadowed One, Rávener wondered why the name of the stranger might be forbidden for them to speak in their own language, but he did not ask, it would have felt presumptuous. “Then you have my thanks, Halanor,” the name came easily to him, it fit in a way, though he could not quite say way.
“Do not speak of thanks, or debts, Rávener,” Halanor had led him a little away from the other, where they could sit down between a few rocks. “those who send you on this journey did little to aid your people to cross these lands. They should have warned you away from that chasm.”
“We were warned to come so far North, though I do not know why,” Rávener admitted, he did not want to speak badly of the Lords who had send them on the journey, yet he could not quite disagree with Halanor either.
“Do not fear,” Halanor’s voice echoed an easy confidence as he spoke, “this land is dangerous, but you will not come to harm, I shall not allow it. Your people are exhausted by the march, they will need to rest.”
He was right, most of them were tired from the long march, the crossing of the swamp and the time in the ravine, Rávener agreed silently. “I doubt we dare stay long here,” he said nevertheless. “we need to press on and I have yet to find another friend who tried to cross the mountains a little south of here.”
“I know a safe place, where your people can find the rest they need,” Halanor offered, “it will be easier for them to march swiftly once they have recovered a little.”
It was sound advice and Rávener saw that. “I would be grateful for your help, Halanor.” He liked the thought of staying in Halanor’s company for at least a little while longer.
Within another passing of the Archer’s Star Halanor had led them to a small lake, deeply entrenched between the volcanic bedrock of the Northern Mountains, while the land itself was cold, the valley echoed an unusual warmth and the elves were glad for the rest they could find. Thanks to Halanor they also found food and no dark beings or dangers strayed close to their hideout.
While the others were resting, Halanor approached Rávener. “I heard Itilano say that you planned on leaving soon,” he observed coming to stand close to Rávener on the entrance of the valley. “your friends are not yet ready to continue their march.”
Rávener sighed, he did not want to leave either. “Itilano can guide them onwards, once they are rested enough,” he said, “I have yet to find Larcanor and my heart warns me to delay this duty. I fear for him.”
He felt Halanor’s strong hand on his shoulder. “Duty rests strongly upon you,” he said in his dark voice, “and it is a burden others placed on you. If you truly have to leave, there is a path south that will lead to the hidden pass your friend will have attempted to use. It is not much but you are swift and skillful in the wilds, I am sure you can make it.”
Turning to him, Rávener felt daring to ask something of Halanor, after all the help he had given. “Will you look out for the others? Itilano is a good leader but my brother can be stubborn…”
“Do not fear, I shall keep them safe,” Halanor promised. “I wish you did not have to go, nevertheless.”
Rávener straightened up, knowing the others in good hands was a relief, and he would have to hurry and press on hard if he wanted to find Larcanor. “I hope we will meet again, one day, Halanor.” He said as a goodbye.
Strangely Halanor smiled. “I am sure we will.”
TRB
“Look ahead, it is them, it must be.” Larcanor turned around to look at Rávener who had helped Silene and Tingilya across the rocks. During their march through the thick forest land he had lost his count how often the Archer’s Star had risen and fallen. When he had found Larcanor their need had been dire but now, they finally were catching up on the others. He wondered if Itilano was already with them again.
If he looked ahead the woodland receded to an open land of hills and he could see other elves, many of them wander further west. Rávener was relieved to see them, after having erred in the wilds for so long, it was good to know that not all of their brethren had vanished into the wilderness. Helping those weakest in their group they made their way across the open hills and towards the other elves – there were many of them, he saw, very many. Only when they finally reached the group and were approached by a tall Elf Rávener realized that they had found Finwë and his wanderers again. “Rávener,” Finwë greeted him warmly, “we had long feared to have lost you and your comrades, for Turayne could say little of your fate.”
Rávener bowed swiftly, for Finwë had been their leader in these wanderings and he respected him highly. “It was a long path erring through the wilds to find them, but now we have returned. Has Itilano led the others here already?”
“We have not heard a word from him since he fell behind along with your brother,” Finwë said, “your brother though reached us, along with two others – his tale I have yet to hear, and he will not speak of you.”
“With Turayne and Larcanor here now, I better went back and found Itilano,” Rávener was tired, the exhaustion settling even more on him as he thought of the long path he would have to trudge back North.
“No,” Finwë said and his voice grew gentler. “I was warned to not allow any of ours to return North, Rávener, for a battle is waged there and it is not for us to see it. I am sure Itilano will find us on his own. You have done much to aid our brethren so far, now you too are in need of rest.”
Rávener did not like the idea of leaving Itilano behind, but he accepted Finwë’s ruling in this matter. “So we will continue on?” he asked, form the heights were they were now standing they could see wide lands stretch west and the far beyond the great sea.
“We will, though I need to ask something of you first,” Finwë’s eyes touched upon the bow on Rávener’s shoulder. Like Turayne he had made one after encountering the first strange creatures in the wild, having seen a similar hunting weapon with them. “I will have to ask you to leave that,” Finwë pointed to the bow, “behind. There is no need of such things on our journey onwards, and we shall not carry the tools of the evil beings we met to the seas.”
Rávener was about to argue, the bow had proven useful in many a situation and Halanor had shown him some tricks to make it even better, but… Finwë was leading them and he would not easily turn against his judgment. “If it is your wish,” he said, feeling a little betrayed that all the thanks he was getting for having chased after wayward groups and guiding them safely back, was another order. “I will leave it back under the trees from whence it came.”
“You could as easily burn it tonight,” Finwë pointed out, “Turayne did when I advised him thus.”
Turayne was a good elf, and sometimes too easy in doing as he was told, or so Rávener thought, except when it came to the wild things. He would easily depart from whatever possessions he had but he would not so easily parted from any of the strange creatures he befriended at times. “I am not him,” he told Finwë, “and my friend’s choice is not mine. This bow was made by my hands and I will not have it burned like it was common wood. If you demand I leave it behind, I leave it after my own choosing.”
With that he turned around and went back to the next hilltop, where he placed bow and arrows between the roots of a gnarled tree. He felt a little bad that he had spoken harshly to Finwë, but he also felt a little betrayed that such a small thing should earn him the reprimand of his leader. Touching the curved wood of the bow for a last time, he rose and went back to the others. It still was a long way towards the great sea. In his heart he wondered where Itilano and the others were, but he hoped they would be safe with Halanor.