The weeks waiting for Feanaro and the Noldorin host to arrive were interesting. Findarato introduced Maedhros to his uncles and cousins. There were quite a few of them, although thankfully fewer than in the house of Finwe, and he understood some of them were at sea or in the outports along the coast. It felt strange. Maedhros remembered Olwe's sons Olnar and Oldil slightly, both from assorted grand occasions and festivals over the years, and from Alqualonde.

Odd how the name of a city that had stood for many, many yeni should become synonymous with an event that happened in a single day. Maedhros was fairly sure Oldil had died at his hand. He wasn't sure. Between how fast everything had gone wrong, the darkness, the confusion, and his shock at what he had just done, his memories of that day were strange. But now Maedhros smiled at him, and they made small talk about gulls.

A few days later Maedhros walked alone along the beach. He had done so several times since his arrival, sometimes in company with mariners, discussing the potential for the mother of all great voyages, and sometimes alone. The latter gave him time to think. The waves' song was beautiful, and the little crabs scurrying away from his bare feet were entertaining, even if they reminded him of the people running from the monster he had been at the Havens of Sirion.

If he trod on one of the crabs, that could be the end of the silly little thing. But they were good at getting out of his way, and he kept an eye out for them. He picked one up. It waved its tiny claws at him in angry defiance, and Maedhros laughed. It was too small to do a damn thing to him, yet still it waved desparate defiance at a creature a thousand times its size.

Maedhros thought suddenly of when he'd been brought before Morgoth, bound, injured and utterly helpless, yet still snarling useless defiance at the monster that that had destroyed his family and his world. Maedhros almost dropped the crab, then set it carefully back on the sand and watched it scurry away and slide sidways under a smooth quartz stone about the size of his hand.

"You've changed," said Findarato from behind him.

Maedhros gave an undignified yelp and spun around. He hadn't noticed Findarato come up, an inexcusable lapse of watchfulness. Even if it was only Findarato, he didn't dare get into the habit of feeling himself safe. And his cousin's comment wasn't exactly harmless.

Findarato backed away, wide-eyed at Maedhros' unexpected reaction, but continued. "Those visions – I feel like I barely know you anymore. What is going on?"

"I," said Maedhros, then started over. "They were intense, and I have never experienced anything like them. It feels like I've lived another three yeni, then I open my eyes and the world is still the same. But I am still Russandol, if an older and hopefully wise one."

"How very strange. Why did that little crab upset you?" asked Findarato.

Oh Valar, how I going to explain that one? I don't even want to remember it, and talking about it with father and Findekano was hard enough. I'm not explaining my captivity to Findarato. "Some of the experiences were very bad."

"I've never heard of a vision cascade with enough emotional involvement and content to cause personality changes. I asked Olorin what visions were like for the ainur, and its not like that for them, either."

Maedhros winced. "Everyone tells me it isn't normal. I've certainly never experienced anything like it."

"If you ever need to speak, I'm willing to listen," said Findarato. "It must be a terrible load to bear alone."

Maedhros smiled, but it was forced. "Findarato... it is very kind of you to want to help, and I will remember it. I have spoken somewhat of it to both my father and Findekano, but it is very difficult for me to speak of. You are right about the personality change. I can't go back, I can't unsee what I've seen. I used osanwe with Feanaro after the meeting, and he can attest that I am still Russandol, if you're worried."

"I don't doubt that," said Findarato slowly, "but the changes in you are going to take some getting used to for all of us. Striking your father? If anyone had told me a year ago you would ever do such a thing I would not have believed it possible." He quirked an eyebrow. "You must have been absolutely desperate."

"I was." You have no idea. "Some of the things we're going to face in Beleriand are terrible. You died. Almost all of Finwe's house did, and most of the Noldor."

Findarato paled. "Valar. I had no idea it was that bad. And you?"

"Yes, I died too." said Maedhros. But I am not going to give him details.

"And yet you still choose to leave."

Maedhros stopped walking. "You must think I'm mad."

"I think that this is something you think is worth dying for," said Findarato.

Maedhros rubbed his forehead. How to explain to Findarato? "I cannot stop my father, and I know that I am needed in Middle-earth. Valinor, they don't need me. I do not fear Mandos."

"You'd be High King of the Noldor, if you chose to stay."

Maedhros snorted. "The Noldor are going to Middle-earth. Let Findis have joy of the few who remain. For that matter, you could stay and claim the High Kingship. Don't you have a Vanyar fiance? Is she staying behind?"

Findarato looked away. "I couldn't find a messenger to go to Valmar in the time before we left for Alqualonde," he said quietly. "But then, I didn't try very hard. Amarie loves Valinor, and doesn't understand my dreams of wild lands under the stars. She wouldn't want to go, and if it is as bad as you say, I don't want her caught up in this. Maybe it wasn't meant to be, between us."

They walked in silence along the beach for a while, the crabs scuttling away, then returning to their lives once the giants had passed by.

Finally, the vanguard of the Noldor arrived on the outskirts of the city. A group of a dozen continued down the lamplit main street in the mist to the palace, Feanaro at their head. Maedhros recognized Findekano and Makalaure among them, and was glad. He was also thankful his father had had the sense not to bring an army into the city.

Olwe came out of the palace to greet Feanaro, his face mostly impassive, though Maedhros caught a fleeting quirk of displeasure. Olwe greeted Feanaro with cool formality, then stepped back to let Maedhros greet his father.

Maedhros greeted his father formally, then embraced him. Despite everything, it was good to have his father back, solid and real and alive.

Olwe then tried to convince Feanaro to give the whole idea up. Feanaro, of course, was no more able to give up the idea than he was of turning into a swan and flying to Middle-earth. So Olwe sourly agreed to let them speak to the mariners.

As soon as they could manage it, Feanaro and Maedhros left the palace and walked with the honor guard towards the field and adjoining beach where the Noldor were to camp. Guards scattered to various tasks, allowing Maedhros time to give his kin a run-down on developments so far as the four walked along the beach.

Feanaro wasn't pleased. "Eighteen ships is nowhere near enough,"

"I know," said Maedhros. "I'm hoping that you may be able to convince some more with your oratory. There are at least ten more captains who are wavering because they are unsure the Noldor actually mean to go through with it. Judging by the look on Lindir's face earlier, I think he has been convinced by your arrival in force." Maedhros gestured to where their people were milling around and beginning to set up tents in a field and along the beach.

"There's no Telerin contingent for fighting Moringotto, I take it?" said Feanaro.

Maedhros nodded. "It was quite hard enough to get the mariners, and they're the essential ones. I don't believe Olwe would permit any of his people to fight."

"But you didn't ask."

"It was very obvious he would say no," said Maedhros. "It is possible that a few will insist they want to join in once we get to Middle-earth and meet long-sundered kin, but there will likely not be enough of them to make a difference to more than morale.

"I had hoped for more," said Feanaro. "Still, as you say, the mariners are the important part. What arguments were people responding best to?"

"Reminders that their kin are in danger. Most families in Alqualonde have someone who did not complete the journey, though they're shadowy figures of legend to the younger elves. Some of the mariners were also quite interested in what payment we're offering."

Feanaro snorted. "They ought to be, given the fire-sale prices on offer for things that may never be made in Valinor again."

A few hours later, in the lantern- and torch-lit great square, Feanaro made his pitch to the mariners, and to others who had come to listen.

"My friends and cousins of Alqualonde, terrible events have taken place in Aman. You have been spared the worst of it so far, in your city by the sea, but the Noldor were not so fortunate. King Finwe lies dead at Melkor the Moringotto's hands, the Trees are dead, the Silmarils, the one place in which the light of the Trees yet lives, are stolen by Moringotto. Our paradise has fallen into the dark. And I fear that we have not seen the end, or even the worst of the horror he will unleash. Unless we act together, more evil still may fall upon Arda."

Feanaro took a deep break, and said, "We have reason to believe that Moringotto has returned to his lesser citadel of Angamando, not far from those of your people left behind searching for Elwe. Our kin are in great danger, and I fear the Valar will not act to protect them before they fall prey to Moringotto and the horrors of the dark. Those of you were at Cuvienen, or who have studied the records of those times, know of what I speak. Such must never come to pass again. If the Valar cannot, or will not, act before Moringotto kills or enslaves all of our kin who are left over the sea, we will!"

"The Valar know of our determination to leave, and have not forbidden it. The most they have done is warn us of the dangers. Yet dangers we have faced here, in our broken paradise. I for one would rather face them head-on with a blade in my hand than hide behind Valar whose protection has already failed us."

"Some of your mariners have already pledged themselves and their ships to aid in this quest. Yet I must ask more. To reach Middle-earth quickly and in large enough numbers to bring Moringotto to battle before he can attack Elwe's folk, we need more ships. Who wants to make Moringotto pay for his crimes, and rescue our people?"

There were shouts of agreement, a lot of doubtful faces, and a lot of foot shifting.

When they counted up the number of ships and mariners who had pledged their support, it was better than Maedhros had feared, and less than he had hoped. There was no way the 41 ships on offer would be able to take all the Noldor to Middle-earth in a single trip, or even three. This was not going to be a quick or easy thing to organize.

Maedhros almost groaned aloud, mirroring the glum expression on Curufinwe's face, then reminded himself of bloody streets and beaches under the lanterns' light, bodies littering the sand and angry waves that drowned many of the Noldor and their stolen ships before they could get away. Logistical difficulties he could deal with.

Not least among them, the fact that Noldor needed to learn how to sail.

A/N: replies to people not logged in:

Dream plane: Glad you liked it, and thanks for letting me know. They aren't home free with the travel arrangements, but at least there's no one attacking anyone else with a sword yet.

Etta D: I'm glad you're still reading and enjoying. The eye is a nusiance, but vastly better than last year. Thanks for the good wishes.