[Year 1105 of the Trees. Summer]
[The gathering place by Cuiviénen]
[Selas POV]
Three years. Three years they'd been gone.
And then, between one breath and the next, they returned.
No warning. No gradual approach. One moment the lakeshore stood empty beneath eternal stars.
The next, four figures materialized, three elves and one impossibly tall Vala astride his luminous mount.
The horn sounded.
Within heartbeats, every elf converged on the gathering place.
I positioned myself carefully on the small rise where clan leaders typically stood, close enough to matter, far enough to move freely. Elmo and Olwë flanked me. Farther along stood our parents, and Elwë…
Elwë looked changed.
All three emissaries did. Ingwë stood taller, moved with new authority. Finwë's dark eyes held depths they'd lacked before. But Elwë…
Elwë looked like someone who'd seen the face of divinity and couldn't unsee it.
"My kindred!" Ingwë's voice rang out, and something about it resonated strangely, like an echo of Oromë's own cadence. "We have witnessed wonders beyond all description!"
"Valinor is paradise incarnate," Finwë added. "The Two Trees, Telperion and Laurelin, make our stars seem pale shadows. The Valar themselves walk among white shores and green hills that have never known winter. Music fills every moment. Beauty beyond imagining awaits any who will come!"
{ Image: The Two Trees - Telperion and Laurelin }
Elwë stepped forward. His voice was quieter, but somehow it carried farther than the others. "I have seen our future. Peace eternal. Growth beyond measure. Knowledge that makes all we've learned here seem like infant babbling."
He paused, and his gaze swept the crowd with terrible certainty. "The Valar offer us a home where we will never know fear or want or darkness. They ask only that we trust them. That we make the journey to the Blessed Realm and dwell there in light that never fails."
Then Oromë spoke. His voice was quieter than the emissaries', but it carried a weight theirs could not.
"I must warn you. A shadow stirs in the North. A darkness older than your people, older than these stars. It grows, and it will reach these shores. Those who remain will face it without the protection of the Valar."
He let the silence do its work.
Murmurs rippled through the assembled elves.
I watched it all with mounting dread.
Something was wrong with them. With the way they spoke, the rhythm of their words, the Light pulsing from all three in perfect synchronization, as if they'd rehearsed it. As if the same hand was guiding them.
Or maybe that was just what Valinor did to people. Maybe three years in paradise really did change you this much. Maybe I was seeing conspiracy where there was only wonder.
I didn't know. Couldn't know.
But I noticed how the crowd swayed with each word. How eyes glazed over, faces going slack and dreamy. How Oromë sat silent on his mount, and that same warm pressure, the same gentle current I'd felt at his first visit, radiated outward in slow waves.
I compressed my Light tighter. Held it in.
The dreamy pull vanished.
I could think.
Around me, the crowd could not.
That might mean nothing. Or it might mean everything.
The debates began.
Some spoke passionately for going, mostly Minyar, some Tattyar. Others expressed doubt. Hesitation. Fear of abandoning all they'd ever known.
Through it all, I watched.
Maybe a third seemed committed to going. Another third wavered. The final third…
I caught the eyes of families I knew. Novë's parents. Denethor's father Lenwë. The craftsmen who'd let their children learn my games. The hunters who'd helped me explore the forests.
They were afraid. Not of staying. Of being swept away by something they couldn't name.
The moment crystallized with perfect, terrible clarity.
Now or never.
I stepped forward.
Away from the clan leaders. Into the space between them and the crowd.
Placed myself right there. Visible to all.
I took a deep breath.
"I refuse."
Two words. Not shouted. But clear.
Every eye snapped toward me.
The emissaries froze mid-sentence. Father stiffened. Mother's face went white. My brothers stared in shock, except Elmo, who looked more resigned than surprised.
Elwë's eyes widened with something like betrayal.
The crowd's murmuring died.
I raised my voice.
"I REFUSE!"
Complete silence crashed down.
Elves stared in shock. I was young, by their reckoning, barely more than an adolescent. Perhaps fourteen or sixteen in human terms, though my height and build matched young Tattyar thanks to years of training.
But speaking out like this? Defying the clan leaders? Unheard of.
"Brother!" Elwë's voice cracked. "Explain yourself!"
My heart hammered. Mouth dry. But I'd committed now.
Deep breath.
"I am Selas. Fourth son of Enel and Enelyë, of the Nelyar kindred."
Another breath. The words wanted to rush out. I forced them steady.
"And I refuse to follow Oromë the Vala to Aman. I refuse to submit to the Valar's will!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"We are children of Eru Ilúvatar! Created by His will, with our own minds, our own freedom! We should live by our own choices! Walk our own paths on these lands, not submit to the Valar's rule in their distant realm!"
The lake's waters began to churn. Wind picked up, whipping across the shore.
"I was born HERE!" The shout tore from my throat with everything I'd held back for four years. "This is my HOME!"
Waves rose behind me, wind tangling hair and tugging at clothing.
"And I will not abandon it because the Valar decided to relocate us, disrupting Eru's own design! Making us choose between our birthright and safety!"
My voice cracked but I pushed through.
"I will forge my own fate! I will defend my own home! I choose FREEDOM!"
I bowed, sharp and formal, to the assembled leaders.
"I have spoken."
Then I turned and walked deliberately several paces along the lakeshore toward the settlement.
Stopped.
The wind died.
The waters stilled.
Silence so complete I could hear my own racing heartbeat.
I stood there, alone and separate, head held high. Staring back at the stunned crowd. Studying each face. Daring them to judge me.
Come on, I thought desperately. Someone. Anyone. Don't let me stand here alone.
The silence stretched.
And stretched.
My heart pounded. The weight of every stare pressed against my skin.
Then…
Movement.
One elf stepped forward from the crowd. A Lindar man, grim-faced, with two small children in his arms and a third clinging to his leg. His wife followed, looking dazed and frightened.
He walked into the space between me and the leaders.
Stopped.
Looked at the lake for a long moment. At the stars reflecting on its surface. At the place where we'd all been born.
Nodded to himself as if confirming something.
Turned and bowed deeply to the clan leaders.
Then walked toward me with his family.
Under the crushing weight of every watching eye. In that terrible, suffocating silence.
Stopped before me. Bowed respectfully.
I closed my eyes. Nodded silently in acknowledgment.
He turned and stood just behind me and to the left.
Now we were two.
Then another family emerged. Another Lindar. Same ritual, bow to the leaders, join us.
Then another.
And another.
Then a Tattyar stepped forward. Eol's cousin, a young smith, dark-haired, soot still on his hands.
More Tattyar followed. More Lindar.
Each one walking through that crushing silence like wading through deep water. Each one choosing. Each one bearing the weight of every stare.
The Minyar didn't move. Not a single one.
When the flow finally stopped, I felt the weight of many families behind me. Still didn't turn to count. Didn't dare move.
But I knew.
About half the Tattyar. Just as the stories said.
And nearly half the Lindar. Far more than the stories said. Far more than should have refused.
The years of influence. Of planting seeds. Of making them think.
It had worked.
Oromë materialized then, his mount appearing as if from nowhere. The Vala surveyed the scene with ancient, unreadable eyes.
Finally, he spoke, addressing those behind me directly.
"You are certain of this choice?"
I stepped forward before anyone else could respond. My voice came out rougher than intended but steady.
"Yes. We are certain. We choose freedom. Our own path."
Oromë held my gaze for a long moment. Measuring. Judging.
Then he nodded slowly. "I understand."
He turned to address the full assembly, voice carrying effortlessly.
"Then it is decided. You who have refused the call shall be known as the Avari, the Unwilling. So be it."
Avari. The name settled over us like a cloak. Heavy. Final.
He faced those who'd chosen to follow, the Eldar now, truly Eldar.
"And we must prepare for the Great Journey. Gather what you need. Make your farewells. Three days hence, we depart."
He and his mount vanished.
Chaos erupted. The Eldar scattered to prepare. Families torn apart began to grieve or argue or both.
I turned to the Avari and raised my voice over the growing tumult.
"We stay. Our fate is in our hands now. Return to your homes and secure what we need to survive. Guard your belongings carefully, in the confusion, things might be taken by accident. Give nothing to the Eldar unless you truly choose to."
I swallowed hard.
"Their Valar will provide for them. We will provide for ourselves. Don't be afraid of hardships. We'll face them together."
The Avari dispersed slowly, still in shock but with purpose now.
—•——•——•——•——•——•—
I turned to face my family.
Mother was crying. Father and Elwë looked torn between fury and incomprehension. Olwë looked simply lost.
And Elmo. Elmo stood slightly apart from the others, tears streaming down his face, but his eyes… his eyes held something else. Not surprise. Not shock.
Understanding.
He'd known. Maybe not the details, maybe not the speech. But he'd watched me for years with those quiet, observant eyes, and some part of him had always known it would come to this.
"Father. Mother. Brothers." My voice came out small. "I love you. All of you. So much. But…"
The words stuck. I forced them out.
"I'm staying. I need to forge my own path. I hope you can understand."
Silence stretched like a wound.
Then Mother broke.
She ran to me, sobbing, pulling me into a crushing embrace. "I love you. I love you so much. How will you survive? How will you manage without us?"
That shattered whatever dam the others had been holding. My brothers surged forward. Even Olwë was crying now.
Elwë gripped my shoulder, hard. His face was rigid, caught between the brother who loved me and the emissary who couldn't comprehend why anyone would refuse what he'd seen. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"You're a fool," he said thickly. "A brave, stubborn fool."
Father stood apart for one more breath.
Then he too stepped forward and wrapped us all in his arms.
"Are you certain?" Mother asked through tears. "Truly certain?"
"Yes." Barely a whisper.
She held me tighter, as if she could keep me safe through sheer force of will.
When they finally pulled apart, I fumbled for the stone knife I'd made months ago.
My hands shook as I lifted a long strand of silver hair and cut it free, pouring my Light into it until it glowed with inner radiance.
They watched, wide-eyed.
I took Mother's trembling hand and wound the hair around her wrist.
"I filled it with my Light. It won't fade. It won't ever break." My voice was thick. "Let it remind you of me. Give you light in dark times."
The strand solidified into something like true silver, beautiful and eternal. A bracelet that caught starlight and held it.
Mother wept harder, touching it with reverent fingers.
I did the same for each of them. Father, his hand large and warm in mine. Elwë, who gripped my shoulder tight as I tied the bracelet. Olwë, who couldn't stop crying. Elmo, who hugged me so hard I could barely breathe.
By the end, even Father had tears tracking down his face.
"One more thing." My throat was raw. "I learned to hold my Light inside. Keep it from radiating out. And I noticed, it grows stronger that way. Over time."
I met their eyes.
"That might help. Someday. In the future. Maybe."
Swallowed hard.
"That's all I can give you."
"Enough tears." Father's voice broke but steadied. "We have work to do. All of us. But know this, my son…"
His voice broke again.
"We will never forget you."
"And I'll never forget you. Never. I swear it."
We held each other one last time. Then separated. My family to prepare for the Journey. Me to check on my Avari.
I made it five steps.
"Selas!"
I turned.
Ilvëa ran toward me, golden hair streaming like a banner in the wind. She stopped a few steps away, breathing hard, eyes wide and shining with tears she clearly hadn't meant to show.
"You're really staying." Not a question. Just disbelief.
"Yes."
The word seemed to hit her physically. She swayed, then caught herself.
"I thought…" Her voice broke. She swallowed and tried again. "I hoped maybe you'd change your mind. That this was just… words."
"It's not." I kept my voice gentle, even as something twisted painfully in my chest. "It's my choice."
She stared at me like she was seeing me for the first time.
"Why?" she whispered.
"Because I can't leave this place," I said quietly. "Because I won't live someone else's life for them. Even the Valar."
Tears spilled freely now. She didn't wipe them away.
"My parents decided," she said. "I can't go against them. I can't just… do what you did."
"I know." I stepped closer, careful, slow. "And you don't have to apologize for that. Choosing your family isn't wrong."
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"You make it sound so simple."
"It isn't," I said. "It just… is."
We stood there, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her Light, unsteady and flaring like a candle in wind.
"I don't know what to say," she whispered.
"Then don't." I met her gaze, held it. "Just remember this moment. Remember that we chose honestly."
She nodded once. Sharp. Almost angry, at the world, at fate, at everything that made this necessary.
"I'll remember," she said.
For a heartbeat, it felt like she might say more. Do more.
But she didn't.
Ilvëa took a step back. Then another.
"Goodbye, Selas."
"Goodbye," I answered.
She turned and ran, back toward the fires, toward her family, toward a future I would never share.
I watched until the darkness swallowed her.
The lake was silent.
The stars gave no answers.
And the Sundering moved one step closer to becoming final.
{Image: Silver-hair bracelet on wrist}
—•——•——•——•——•——•—
[End of Chapter 2]
GLOSSARY
For those who wish to delve deeper. This glossary covers new terms introduced in this chapter.
Vanyar — "The Fair Ones." The new name given to the Minyar who accepted the Journey. Golden-haired and noble, they were the smallest kindred. All Vanyar chose to follow Oromë, none became Avari.
Noldor — "The Wise." The new name for the Tattyar. Dark-haired, strong, gifted in crafts. At the Sundering, they split evenly, half became Eldar, half joined the Avari.
Teleri — "The Last." The new name for the Nelyar during the Great Journey. In this timeline, Selas's influence means nearly half refuse the call instead of the canonical one-third.
Lindar — "The Singers." The name the Nelyar use among themselves. Selas's people.
Eldar — "People of the Stars." Elves who accepted the Valar's summons and began the Great Journey to Aman.
Avari — "The Unwilling." Elves who refused the Valar's summons and remained in Middle-earth.
Valinor — The realm of the Valar within Aman, lit by the Two Trees. A land of eternal beauty, and, as Selas suspects, absolute Valar control.
The Two Trees — Telperion (Silver) and Laurelin (Golden), which illuminate Valinor with light more beautiful than sun or moon (which don't yet exist).
Aman — "The Blessed Realm." The western continent where the Valar dwell. Paradise and cage both.
The Great Journey/March — The epic migration of the Eldar from Cuiviénen across Middle-earth to reach Aman. Spans many years and involves perils, wonders, and further divisions.
The Sundering — The moment when the Quendi split into Eldar and Avari. Occurs at Cuiviénen after the emissaries return from Valinor. Selas's speech catalyzes this historic division.