If guests came for dinner at our house, we invited them to the dining room where our larger table was situated. Our four servants joined us at the table, and most of the chairs were occupied. Lintawen, Nercano and Quelindiel always made sure to see us often enough each year— almost as if my father's close friendship with Nercano commanded it.

The main sound was the clinking of silverware against our plates as we finished our meal of roast venison, lettuce leaves, carrots and red wine. Atar and Nercano spoke animatedly about their years together under Mahtan's tutelage as they learned the fine details of smithery. They were particularly remembering the first products they made as young apprentices, and the "poor excuses of necklaces" they fashioned for Amil and Quelindiel.

Lintawen sat across from me, her mother at her side. As my mind began to wander, the thought occurred to me that Quelindiel's soft features appeared strained. She stared ahead at the wall, eyelids slowly fluttering as she took deep breaths. Adding to my concern, she had been mute throughout dinner, only talking when spoken to. Naturally, Quelindiel was a reticent woman, but I could not ignore her unwonted discomfort.

I leaned forward and spoke softly. "Quelindiel, was the meal suited to your tastes?"

Her sapphire eyes flicked towards me, but quickly looked down as she moved to finish the rest of her venison. "Yes, Maitimo. Everything was wonderful," she replied quietly. The little amount of wine sloshed in its glass before she took the final drink.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" I asked as she set the empty glass down. She shook her head, but managed a smile.

Lintawen patted my hand. "Do not worry, Nelyo. She's simply been thinking deeply on heavy topics. Give her time and she will recover."

Studying her hand laid over mine I was unconvinced, but our attention diverged when Huan eagerly approached Tyelko with the folded material Lintawen brought with her and left on the couch in the parlour.

Tyelko sighed and held his hand out as a command to place it onto his palm. "What am I going to do with you, Huan?" he scolded. "I never asked you to leave your slobber over Lintawen's blanket."

Lintawen laughed. "That is no blanket. Huan has found the newest tapestry I've made."

Nercano's attention was brought to his daughter's declaration. "Yes Lintawen, show everyone what you have created."

After giving the tapestry a wipe with his napkin, Tyelko passed the material to Lintawen. She stood from her chair, and unraveled the material.

When I saw the woven picture, I could barely believe how far she had progressed in her skill. It was designed with three Elves in a twilit forest, one Noldo male with two females-- a Vanyarin and Falmarin. Each of them held a lamp that emitted white light as pure as crystals. The flames illuminated their hooded faces, shadows and highlights accentuating their angles and resolute expressions. At the bottom of the tapestry were intricate, swirling Tengwar letters that read: You will find me in the light, for I carry this precious treasure through night and day, forest and fire.

"It represents the Calaquendi as a whole," Lintawen explained. "The forest setting hearkens back to when Oromë travelled west with Finwë, Elwë and Ingwë across Middle-earth from Cuiviénen. When they discovered the majesty of the Two Trees, that moment began who we are today."

Atar approached the tapestry and lightly brushed his fingertips over the image. "You created this on your own?"

"I did," she answered. "Atar says this is my best work yet. I don't mean to bribe, but I think I agree with him."

"And there's nothing wrong in thinking that," Amil assured her as she looked it over herself. "It wouldn't do to have your confidence fail you in your passion."

Curvo came up beside me to get a better view. He peered closely at the picture from across the table. "The dark haired elf looks like Atar. Is it supposed to be him?"

Chuckles aroused throughout the room, while Lintawen shook her head. "No, I didn't intend for him to be Fëanáro, or my father for that matter. Maybe I was mistaken to have given him such a serious expression." Her humorous tone shifted to a more sincere one. "I would like to give this tapestry to all of you, for sharing a lasting friendship with me and my parents. Unfortunately many of our friends over the years have disappeared from our lives, but you've always been here for us." Her eyes sparkled as she swept her gaze over the room.

"Lintawen, are you sure of this?" Nercano asked. "If I was in your position, I would think twice about giving away one of my finest achievements. I was hoping to see this tapestry hung on our own walls. That way I could admire how well you did their faces and the elegant letters if ever I needed creative inspiration."

"I am certain, Atar," Lintawen answered. "We'll still be able to see it again when we visit, will we not? And Fëanáro has always given us the best quality of jewelry. Why should I not return the favour?"

Nercano placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let us not forget my work is of great quality too, my daughter. I and Fëanáro both learned under the same smith, after all."

Lintawen's eyes slightly widened as she looked up at her father. "I was not suggesting either of you had more skill than the other."

"Of course. I hadn't thought otherwise; I simply wished to remind you. But getting back to the prime matter, I respect your decision. I don't think I could stop you from giving it to our good friends anyway."

"No, you could not," Lintawen said teasingly.

Atar took the material in his hands. "We thank you very much. This will go well in the parlour." He admired it once more, only this time he held it in his own hands. "It is acceptable for your father to hold such pride in your skill, Lintawen. If I had you for a daughter, I am sure I would feel the same." He left the room, not hesitating to display it for all to see.

* * *

The quiet bliss of evening made the scene of my brothers frolicking in the starlight appear almost magical. Lintawen and I watched our family and friends under the shelter of a tree, our backs against its trunk.

Káno, altering his voice to a villainous snarl, nocked an arrow to his bow and pointed it at Curvo and Moryo— the "innocent victims." Their silhouettes dark in the faded silver light, Moryo and Curvo imitated cries for help and fell to the grass as if wounded, though Káno never let an arrow fly once. Eventually the twins joined in to assist the injured, while Tyelko let out a merciless cackle and strode to Káno's side with his own bow and arrow. Amil monitored the scene carefully as she sat by Atar. He thought nothing of his sons' raucous amusement and so continued speaking with Nercano of subjects I could only guess at.

Throughout this merry chaos, Quelindiel seemed to refuse to talk to anyone. She walked alone in aimless directions, dark hair blowing in the wind. She fingered the amethyst pendant that rested on her breast. I could not tell if she was pondering on private matters or trying to relieve stress.

"Lintawen," I began, "please tell me what ails your mother."

When she looked at me, her eyes were filled with stellar tears that refused to flow freely from her eyes. Shocked at her apparent sorrow, I placed my hand on her cheek. "No, I cannot have you afflicted from this, too." The tremble in my voice threatened to break my speech. "Telling someone helps in the end, trust me."

"Nelyo, I don't wish any ill upon you if I tell you what she's gone through."

"For the moment that matters not. I only want to help you, and know of the troubles that pain you," I said, clinging onto her shoulders.

To my relief, she nodded. "I can trust you not to tell anyone. Amil doesn't want anyone to know besides Atar and I. She fears that it will... torment others."

"Does it torment you?" I asked tentatively.

She lightly blinked to banish her tears. "I do not know. I would go to Lórien and ask what Irmo thinks of this vision, but like my mother, I hesitate to hear confirmations that are certain."

I tried to encourage her by taking her hands and attempting to steady them. "Tell me of this vision, and I will listen."

Lintawen took a breath to calm herself. "Amil said that her words could not articulate the depth of her fear; she said it was a horror only she could experience. In this vision she saw the Evil One, Melkor, released from his chains after three long ages of imprisonment. The next thing Amil knew, Valinor was bathed in darkness as a huge spider sucked the light out of the Two Trees. As she drank, her body expanded and continued to cover the sky and stars until her foul stench was so strong it wilted the flowers."

I shuddered as I imagined the monster invading this land. The shadows around me were playing tricks, I assured myself. The distant forest that lay on the horizon was what I knew it to be: an abundance of trees that served as the home of flora and fauna alike. Those trees were not dead. Nor did the dark mass make up a spider's body, waiting to strike at us— her prey— at the right time.

"Melkor's grating laugh resonated throughout," Lintawen continued, "and all three Elven races turned on each other. We were killing each other with an unquenchable rage burning in our souls, some more angrier than others. What motivated us to end each other's lives, my mother knows not. Blood soaked our faces and the grass below our feet." She paused to let the information sink in. "Atar doesn't believe it to be true. He asks, 'Why would such bloodshed come into our lives and corrupt a continent we call the Blessed Realm? This darkness and terror you dream of existed in Middle-earth, many years ago. It is past.'"

"Dear Eru," I breathed. "Whether this vision returns or not, I hope your mother recovers swiftly."

"Thank you, Nelyo. So do I. Though if this vision comes to pass, I am not prepared to say farewell to the beautiful things I hold dear."

I found myself having similar feelings as Nercano; I did not want to believe it. I could not find the words to reassure her, for what did I know of a future that may be full of dark shadows which the Calaquendi are unfamiliar with?

Káno had Moryo pinned to the ground, holding his arrow as if it were a spear. I excused myself from Lintawen, then stormed over to the scene and wrenched the weapon from Káno's grasp. "Enough— all of you," I ordered, loud enough for all six of them to halt in their separate battles. I narrowed my eyes at the Ambarussa, who were snickering to themselves even as Tyelko had his arms wrapped around their necks. He could easily have choked them if he went any further. "Calm yourselves... before someone gets hurt. Night is for rest."