HAVE I BEEN SLEEPING?
Beonna found herself rocking gently in a vast tree branch high in the air. But she couldn’t remember going to sleep or waking up. The bough she lay on reached long and wide, and though it swayed far, she wasn’t afraid. The tree itself stretched high into the sky, farther than she could follow with her eyes, where the distant top bloomed in an explosion of silvery light. Her eyes drank that beautiful light as it floated down and a peace that promised to go on growing forever grew in her soul. She could have been in this place, on this tree branch, for a day or a year or for a thousand years. But where had she been before this? How had she come to be here?
After a long time gazing up at the marvelous light, she sat up and stretched, letting her feet dangle over the edge of the wide branch. The tree reached so high that when she looked down, only clouds appeared far below her. But these clouds boiled and flashed, dark and troubled, filling her with a dread she couldn’t explain to herself.
The leaves at the end of the branch glittered in the silvery light of the tree. They caught the light snowing from the treetop and tossed it to each other like a game being played by children. But where was she? Why did everything feel so familiar if she couldn’t remember being here before?
After watching the leaves play with the light for a long time, Beonna rose to her feet. No wind threatened to topple her off the bough. Only a gentle, playful breeze that smelled of the most delicious flowers she had ever smelled. She wandered along the branch, towards the trunk of the tree, which stood much further away than she had thought. She supposed it must be only a few dozen feet distant. But stepping toward it, she began to realize how vast the tree’s trunk was. Beonna walked along the bough for hundreds of feet until she finally arrived at the trunk. Its shining bark resembled hammered silver. When she held her hand to the massive trunk, she felt it vibrating as if it were humming a deep thrumming music. She closed her eyes. Calm flooded into her like a song, a song that reminded her of a cool night by a northern lake with a bright full moon overhead.
Her eyes opened and she noticed a young elf standing on a branch not far above her. He didn’t speak, but he gazed down at her with laughing eyes, holding his hand out, inviting her up to his branch. Fear didn’t enter her heart at all, for joy and kindness danced in the young elf’s silver eyes. How long they held each other’s gaze, Beonna could not have guessed. Questions like how long? or when did? did not seem to mean anything up here in the tree. She took his hand at last and he pulled her up to his branch as if she weighed nothing at all.
“Hello?” she asked.
“Hello to you, Beonna of the Northern Realms. Welcome to my home,” replied the young elf. “Yes, I know your name, Beonna, and you know mine too, though you have forgotten it as one forgets a dream when they wake.”
She stood entranced by the light playing through his platinum hair. “You live here?”
“And nowhere else.”
“Yes, I think I was dreaming and then I woke up here,” she said. “It’s all very faint now. I can almost remember you. And something else, too. At least I almost can—something dark.”
“Try, Beonna. It’s important that you remember.”
A rumbling like distant thunder rose from the dark boiling clouds below them. She let go of his hand and put her fingers to her temples. Why couldn’t she remember? The last place she had been was… then it came back to her, the ship, the monster, and the jewel of light. “I remember now, you’re the deathless boy. You’re Inolduay!”
His smile shone like the moon. “Yes, Beonna, well done! It can take a long time for visitors to remember. I knew I had chosen well when I chose you.”
“You chose me?”
He laughed and took her hand again. “Come, you must be hungry.” He led her out along the thick bough toward the dancing leaves.
Beonna caught herself staring at him as he guided her. “You’ve been with me this whole time and I still forgot you. I’m sorry.”
He cast his head back in laughter. “To go from darkness to this place of hallowed light is no small journey. I am pleased you are here, Beonna. Very pleased.” They came to a flowery branch, heavy laden with plump purple and silver fruits. He plucked one of each and set the purple fruit in her hand. “Take and eat this first to revive you.” The fruit was lovely, so comely that without his gentle encouragement, she would have refused to damage its perfect skin by eating it. When she at last took a bite, her mouth wanted to sing for joy at the flavor. She laughed as warmth and life spread down to her feet. She felt she had never truly eaten before and might never need to again.
Beonna turned her wondering gaze to the living light playing through the thousands of branches all around them. “Is this the great tree? Is this Telperion?”
Inolduay’s face beamed as he followed her gaze. “It is the essence of the noble mother tree that will always live within me. We are one, the tree and I. When you dwell in this tree and in its light, you dwell in me, Beonna.”
Wondering at him and the peace that radiated from him made Beonna long to stay in this place forever and be always happy. She almost forgot again where she had come from and why she was here. Her gaze turned to the darkness swelling far below them. “You told me to close the locket, to let myself be captured.”
“To save you, and to save your friends. You are in no danger as long as you stay here with me. The darkness cannot overcome the light of the tree.”
“But where are my friends? Lumpolas and Aragunk, Gandalf and Millen? Are they safe?”
Inolduay took her hand and placed the second fruit in her palm. “That you may see.” This fruit—no larger than a grape—shined like polished silver. She had to squeeze it to convince herself it wasn’t made of metal. She bit into it and had the sudden sensation of filling with light, the same silver light playing through the leaves. It coursed through her arms, her fingers, down to her toes.
“Now, behold,” Inolduay said, turning his gaze to the dark clouds below them. Beonna followed his eyes. “The light pierces all darkness. Follow the light and you will see all.” At his words, her sight grew and expanded until she had the strange sensation that she was a part of the light now, rushing downwards through the dark clouds.
In an instant, she found herself soaring over the ocean and the galleys of the Dagorim. She saw into the dark hold of the galley, where her sleeping body lay imprisoned by a thick swarm of bog-bats. Her unconscious body floated in a little bubble of light, untouched by the bats. The evil creatures hurled themselves against the light again and again, but she remained unharmed.
“You are safe, for now,” Inolduay spoke. She found him standing luminously beside her. “Even here, the light protects you.”
“How long can I stay here?”
Inolduay pointed to a trio of gray-robed Dagor witches surrounding her body. They chanted in a profane tongue, locked in a trance of intense concentration with their bony arms outstretched. Under the witch’s direction, the bog-bats carried Beonna’s sleeping body out of the hold and up onto the deck.
“What do they want with me?”
“The same thing your friends wanted: to use the jewel of light to find the missing Silmaril. Come.”
Again, Beonna felt like she was flying without moving, now out above the deck of the slave galley and up above the water. There, towering above the galley, loomed another of the Dagor’s floating fortresses, similar to the one Alatar had destroyed at the port of Larrola. Dark smoke belched from its towers, blotting out the sky. The witches compelled bog-bats to carry Beonna’s sleeping body aboard the fortress, there disappearing into its dark belly.
“What will they do with me?” she asked.
“They will bend all their will to break through, to get to you—to us. Ancient, powerful and evil, they need only time to achieve their end.”
Across the water, the other Dagor galley drummed in to dock at the fortress. Beonna found familiar faces toiling at the oars, the lash at their backs. “There’s Breach and Cookie and Parsons and Culum! The crew of the Freedom Hawk are there!” She flew to them and tried to speak to Culum, but the poor man couldn’t hear her.
“You are invisible to them, Beonna,” said Inolduay. “Nor can they hear you in this form. We may only watch while we are here.”
Disappointed, she nodded and sought her friends among the captives. “Not everybody is here. Where are Lumpolas and Aragunk? I don’t see Gandalf or Millen, or Captain Yorlov either. Where are they?”
“They are alive. You will see them soon, I promise. Now, Beonna, behold!”
She flew upwards, far above the floating fortress. Alone atop a high platform, Lord Angor crouched with his jagged pike, Daggoth-dûl, outstretched over the water. He chanted in the same foul language the witches had used. She wanted to stop her ears from hearing it.
“What is he doing?”
“Watch! He calls on allies in the deep!”
Lord Angor raised his pike as he continued his profane chanting and swung it slowly over his head. Around and around he turned it in slow, sweeping circles, straining with tremendous effort as though he dragged the pike through thick tar. Beonna could not see any effect from his efforts at first. But soon she discerned the dark shadows of enormous sea-creatures moving in the water around the immense fortress. The creatures swam together in a large circle around the floating citadel, sluggishly following Angor’s swinging pike.
“What are they doing?”
“Watch!”
Gradually, more and more sea-beasts fell in with the circling train, some large and some small, but growing ever more numerous. From high above, she witnessed the wide swirling circle grow to nearly a mile in diameter around the fortress. The sea churned and swirled faster as still more sea-creatures arrived to join the circle. A vast whirlpool began to form around the black fortress while Angor swung his pike around and around. His evil chanting boomed over the waves, compelling yet more animals to join in the whirlpool. Thousands, tens of thousands of creatures—whales, sharks, giant squids, monsters of the deep, and vast schools of fish—raced faster and faster, compelled by Angor’s malice to add their strength to the growing spiral. Soon, the fortress began sinking down into the deepening vortex.
Beonna’s enlightened eyes saw it all. “But why do this?”
Inolduay took her hand. “Come and see.” They shot through the deepening cyclone into the deeps of the ocean. Down, down they went into the watery depths, until they stopped above an enormous dome flanked by tall ornate spires. It stood on a large plateau overlooking a vast underwater city. “Behold,” said Inolduay, “the thing they seek is there, in this temple. When Maglor, son of Fëanor, cast the Silmaril into the waters two ages ago, it came to rest here on this rocky seabed. The noble Oarni built the temple around it and have guarded it until this hour.”
Beonna’s wonder overwhelmed her. “A city? Here? What manner of creatures could dwell here at the bottom of the sea?”
Inolduay did not need to explain. For, as Beonna watched in astonishment, a grand army of strange creatures with the bodies of men and the tails of dolphins where their legs should have been came massing around the temple. They wielded long tridents and spears in their webbed hands. At their head rode a young queen on a massive blue-skinned whale. She wore a high crown set amidst her flowing blue tresses and carried a staff of black pearl in her hand. This queen was a slight thing, Beonna thought, but a steely strength dwelled in her luminous green eyes.
“Who are they?”
“The fabled Oarni,” said Inolduay. “My distant cousins. They are the keepers of the Silmaril cast here ages ago. They gather to defend its ancient resting place.”
High above, Beonna could see the Dagorim fortress in the deepening whirlpool descending toward the temple. “They’re coming for it! We have to stop them!”
“Yes, they must be stopped. But we can do little, Beonna. Remember, we are only eyes without substance here.”
All around them, the Oarni forces assembled for the assault. Horns blew in the deeps and the pounding of drums filled the water. Enormous crabs, larger than the largest oxen she had ever seen, pulled towering carts on skids across the seabed. These served as mounts for huge bows, large enough to shoot harpoons as thick as trees. Spears and tridents and helmets gleamed in the light of countless luminous jelly creatures. Soon, tens of thousands of soldiers stood gathered around the temple. Some rode on enormous eels. She supposed these must be the Oarni generals marshaling the ranks of sea-soldiers.
They were fierce, these Oarni warriors. Beonna didn’t see the faintest trace of fear in any of their eyes as they gazed up at the approaching fortress. She cast her gaze again to their queen mounted upon her whale. All the gathered valor of her army smoldered there in her flashing eyes. If any of her subjects felt the slightest dread, one glance from her would have driven it away and filled their hearts with courage instead.
Beonna gazed back up at the looming hulk of the fortress as it descended to the sea floor. “Can they do it?” she asked Inolduay. “Can the Dagorim really come all the way down here?”
“Lord Angor is powerful and arrogant and his will is strong,” answered Inolduay. “They will be here soon.”
Beonna cast helplessly for some way to contribute to the defense of the temple. Torment wracked her to stay idly back while fell deeds swirled around. The Oarni armies stood arrayed before her and the unbearable tension that rises at the approach of battle quivered in the water. Jaws set in grim anticipation. Webbed hands gripped and re-gripped the hafts of their flashing weapons.
The fortress descended near now. As it approached, Lord Angor redoubled his power over the bewitched sea-animals. They raced with ever more speed around the whirlpool, driving it downwards. The eyes of the hurtling creatures trapped in the vortex spun in fear and confusion, compelled by a dark force beyond their comprehension.
Now the fortress had descended within a hundred yards above the temple. The Oarni officers, tensing to release their defensive onslaught, found their mounts beginning to twitch and shudder. The great eels reared their heads in their reins like horses in terror. Even the queen’s whale-mount acted strangely, swimming back and forth in agitation.
“What’s happening to them?” asked Beonna.
“They, too, begin to feel Angor’s evil might,” answered Inolduay. “His control over the creatures of the deep is powerful.”
The ranks of warriors cast about, unsettled at the faltering in their commanders. The officers struggled to control their mounts, until suddenly, one of the big eels bucked a high-helmeted general right off its back. Now loose, it darted straight towards the whirlpool to lend its strength to the vast swarm of rushing creatures. Then, all at once, many other eels and whales caught the fever of disobedience and bucked their masters aside. Or ignoring them, they went racing into the whirlpool, dragging their helpless riders with them.
The queen’s whale alone stayed with her, though not willingly. She controlled it with her scepter, but it cost her great effort. The Oarni soldiers, dismayed to find themselves abandoned by their animals, regathered themselves in their ranks and prepared to fight on without them. But the strength of the rogue beasts only added to the whirlpool and hastened the descent of the fortress.
The towering cyclone of rushing water reached from the floor of the sea all the way up to the surface now. The sight struck awe into even the stoutest among the Oarni. Thousands and hundreds of thousands of sea-creatures in the thrall of Lord Angor swirled faster and faster until, at last, the dark fortress landed with a resounding BOOM in front of the temple.
At once, the doors of the fortress flew open. Platoons of black-armored Dagor soldiers came pouring out of its belly with swords and axes at the ready. They found no opposition but the helpless temple priests lying on the ground, their tails flopping uselessly against the seabed.
Outside the whirlpool, Beonna perceived the grave problem facing the Oarni. The enslaved animals forming the cyclone were blocking the Oarni’s attack on the invaders. They unwittingly shielded the Dagorim from the Oarni weapons with their bodies. The Oarni gathered to hurl their spears and fire their harpoons through the maelstrom, but their love for the creatures of the deep held back their hands.
“The plan is cunning, is it not?” said Inolduay. “The Oarni cannot use their weapons without doing great slaughter to the sea-creatures. And without their own animals, their strength is vastly reduced.” The Oarni warriors turned to the mer-empress in confusion, seeking direction.
“The plan is evil!” said Beonna. “There must be something they can do to stop them!”
She cast her eyes to the mer-empress’s face and read pain thereon for the terrible decision before her. Defend the temple and the Silmaril at the cost of the lives of thousands of her animal subjects? Or spare the innocent blood of the bewitched creatures and let the Dagorim gain what they desired? Beonna couldn’t decide herself what she would do in her place and she pitied the young queen her evil decision. How would she choose with thousands of eyes looking to her when either choice promised only sorrow?
Meanwhile, inside the whirlpool, the Dagor brigands made quick work of the temple priests, who posed no resistance for them outside the water. A mammoth battering ram came rolling out of the fortress, pulled by slaves. Beonna recognized many of them as crew members of the Freedom Hawk, now whipped like animals. Cookie and Culum—sweet old Culum—and Breach the helmsman who had been so kind to her, lent their backs unwillingly to the battering ram. Fear and confusion twisted in their faces. Beonna, stricken with helplessness, cried out. “Is there nothing we can do?”
Outside, the empress at last pointed at the maelstrom with her scepter. The ranks of Oarni spearmen charged the whirlpool. Deprived of their animals and their larger weapons, the spearmen had no choice but to attack from close range now. The strong-finned soldiers sped their way alongside the vast cyclone surrounding the Dagor fortress and worked their way in among the rushing creatures. A few managed to mount on their backs. From this position, they hurled their weapons through the vortex upon the invaders.
Inside, the Oarni spears rained down on the Dagorim raiders from the maelstrom, killing dozens. Beonna looked on helplessly as Culum and Cookie cowered under the onslaught. The Dagor slave-masters lashed them onward, forcing the enslaved crew to set the battering ram to work. They smashed it over and over against the door of the temple. And every one of them gazed fearfully at the spinning water-wall around them, fearing for it to collapse and drown them all at the bottom of the sea.
The Oarni warriors rode the benighted creatures around and around the whirlpool. They unleashed volley after volley of spears against the Dagorim. But it was impossible to aim with any skill through the rushing water. Most of their darts clattered uselessly to the ground around the besieged temple.
Beonna realized with a cry that her captured friends would die if the Oarni succeeded in their defense of the temple. Neither did the Dagor marauders dare to fire their own arrows or spears into the whirlpool for fear of killing the very creatures that kept the spout from collapsing over them.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The battering ram smashed against the great jeweled door of the temple. “Oh, my bloomin’ blue bruises,” sobbed Cookie as he heaved at the ropes. “How did we end up here?”
“Just keep your head down, lad!” said Culum in between heaves. “We’ll find a way out of this yet, we will. Captain Yorlov’ll come for us, you watch! He always has!” But Cookie only whimpered in reply.
The poor slaves toiled still harder at the battering ram as the spears flew in among them. Another heave and a great CRACK! sounded above the din. The portal of the temple buckled. Water sprayed out of the collapsing door. They smashed it over and over until, at last, with a resounding crash, the door gave way. A torrent of water came gushing out, washing the ram and all the slaves back away from the temple’s forecourt. Beonna rejoiced when Culum and Cookie pulled themselves up, dripping wet as dishrags. But she couldn’t find Breach anywhere.
With the door smashed, the raiders swarmed into the temple, killing the remaining temple guardians as they searched for their prize. And indeed, the treasure was not hard to find. There, at the center of the hall, resting in a monumental stone hand sculpted out of the seabed itself, shone the unmistakable light of the lost Silmaril.
“No!” Beonna cried. “They’re going to get it!”
The leader of the Dagorim raiding party pointed with his spear, and one of his lieutenants rushed to claim the prize. The soldier snatched the shining sphere from its solemn resting place and held it aloft for his companions to behold. A great cry of victory went up among them as he carried it in triumph back to his fellows. But the Dagor lieutenant had not taken five steps when he stopped and stared at the jewel with horror writ on his face. A shriek of agony erupted from his throat as he watched his gloved hand ignite into a ball of flame. He began running toward his commander, Silmaril still in his burning hand. But before he had made it halfway, the soldier burst into a screaming ball of flame and collapsed at the center of the hall. The jewel fell from his smoking hand and rolled across the floor towards the invaders. They all stepped back from the glowing orb as it rolled to a stop in their midst.
“What happened?” Beonna asked Inolduay, as surprised as the Dagorim raiders. “Why did he die like that?”
“He was unworthy to handle the hallowed Silmaril,” he answered. “There are few in this world with hearts pure enough to hold it.”
Beonna rejoiced at his words. “Then they cannot steal it! They can’t possess it because they are evil!”
But Inolduay’s face reflected none of her relief. “There is one among them, aboard their fortress, who is worthy. One who can take the Silmaril in hand without harm.”
Beonna’s face fell. “Who? Who among that gang of murderers and thieves could be worthy?”
Pity flooded his silver eyes. “You, Beonna. You alone among them are worthy to hold it in your hands.”
She stared back at him in shock. “Me? But I’m… but I’m not…”
Inolduay pointed to the three Dagor witches leading the bog-bat swarm down the ramp. They guided them to the place where the Silmaril lay, pulsing in its unearthly power on the floor of the shrine. The Dagor pirates cowered back as the bog-bat cloud passed through their midst.
Then, the cloud parted, and Beonna saw her own body drifting within, eyes closed in sleep. Her heart froze within her. “No! I can’t be the one who gives them the victory! It can’t be me who betrays the world to the Evil One! Please tell me there is something we can do to stop them!”
Inolduay took her hand with pity in his silver eyes. “Please understand: you are not the one who does this evil thing, Beonna. The sin is theirs. Have courage, they have not won yet!”
The jewel glowing at Beonna’s sleeping breast shone brighter, sensing the presence of its kin, the Silmaril. And indeed the Silmaril, too, must itself have sensed this kinship, for it began to roll across the floor on its own toward Beonna’s sleeping body, stopping at her feet. Then, the Silmaril rose mysteriously off the floor, drifting upwards toward the jewel. Beonna’s horror rose with it as she watched her own hands reach and take the Silmaril out of the air as if she were taking an offered fruit. With the Silmaril now in her unwitting hands, the cloud of rushing bog-bats enshrouded her again. At once, the ever-chanting witches led them back out of the temple to their black fortress.
The spears of the Oarni fell thicker around the Dagorim in a last desperate effort to stop the raiders from escaping with their prize. The Dagors seized Cookie and Culum and the others to shield the witches and the cloud with their bodies. “Ahh! Stop!” Cookie cried out. “Stop the attack! I didn’t do nothin’!” Spears crashed and clattered all around them as the Dagors made their escape back into the fortress.
Outside the whirlpool, the Oarni bewailed their defeat. Robbed in their own element! In their own city! Beonna cried out. “No! They can’t win, not like this, not because of me!”
“They can still end this, here,” said Inolduay. “The mer-empress can still order the slaughter of the sea-animals in this vortex and collapse it on the Dagor fortress to destroy it.” Beonna shuddered, knowing that would mean her own death too, and the death of the captured crew of the Freedom Hawk. She cast her gaze to the empress. Her glowing eyes closed. Did the Oarni have tears here below the waves, Beonna wondered. If they did, she was sure that they flowed abundantly from the young monarch’s eyes now.
The mer-empress opened her eyes at last, raised her staff high and then lowered it, commanding her warriors to stand down. They gazed in shock as the reality of losing the battle poured through the gathered host. Waves of frustration rippled through the Oarni ranks. They had been born to fight, trained to battle. And here, in their plain sight, brigands plundered their temple and they could raise not a hand or bat a fin to stop it.
Several of their ranks, overcome with shame, defied their queen and threw themselves against the maelstrom before their commanders could stop them. They began to spear the poor animals trapped in Angor’s thrall to collapse the cyclone on the Dagor fortress before it could escape. But Oune’s loyal soldiers speedily killed these renegades.
Inside the whirlpool, the fortress doors slammed closed and were made fast. While above, atop the black fortress, Lord Angor slowed his swinging of Daggoth-dûl. The creatures in the whirlpool slowed, and the vortex weakened. Water flowed back underneath the fortress, causing it to float up off the seabed. With loud creaking and groaning, the Dagor stronghold began its long ascent back to the surface. Higher and higher it floated as the cyclone slackened and the waters returned until soon it soared far above the defeated Oarni forces.
The bitterness and the rage on the faces of the Oarni mirrored Beonna’s. Guilt gnawed into her heart, convicting her for the unwitting part she had played in their defeat. Inolduay, seeing the darkening of her countenance, took both her hands in his. “Do not despair and do not lose courage, Beonna. Though they have won this battle, the Dagorim have not yet achieved their ultimate end: the return of Morgoth.”
Beonna did not reply. Her gaze fixed on the mer-empress, whose green eyes blazed in the dark waters. And though she didn’t know how, Beonna couldn’t help believing that the mer-empress gazed directly at her.
Inolduay followed Beonna’s gaze. “Yes, the Empress Una possesses great foresight. She can see things hidden from others. The choice she made—to allow the raiders to escape—she did not make lightly or out of weakness. It may be that she perceives a fate unfolding here that lies concealed from the eyes of others.”
Then he pointed to the city below in the sea valley. “You wished to learn the plight of your friends. They are there, Beonna. Come.” But she tarried a moment to look back at the mer-empress, whose penetrating gaze didn’t waver. Beonna grew certain that she really could see them. And more than that, that she somehow knew them and knew why they were down here in her realm. She longed to go speak to the young queen, to explain herself, to apologize for her role in the theft, and to promise to do whatever it took to stop their mutual enemy. But Beonna sensed that the mer-empress already saw all this too.
She turned back to Inolduay and nodded. In a flash, they arrived above an immense dome in the center of the great city. “They are there,” he said, “imprisoned in this building.”
“Imprisoned?” asked Beonna in surprise. They flew right through the surface of the dome. There they stood—Lumpolas and Aragunk, with Millen and Gandalf and Captain Yorlov—inside a bubble affixed to the floor of the dome. They were alone, aside from a score of large jellyfish that drifted through the dome glowing a dark green. Yorlov and Millen lay on the floor as Lumpolas fussed with his powders and herbs. Aragunk, as usual, paced furiously back and forth with sword in hand. Uttermost exasperation stormed on his face, no doubt lamenting the fact that yet another battle raged on without him. Gandalf stood at the edge of the bubble, gazing out. For the first time, he appeared helpless to Beonna, unable to do anything, trapped in this bubble while mighty events unfolded around him.
“Behold, they are safe for the moment,” said Inolduay. “Their fate lies in the hands of the Oarni now.”
“But why are they imprisoned?”
“They are to be tried, for treachery against the realm—for being spies.”
“Spies? But that’s absurd! Aragunk and Lumpolas couldn’t spy on a bag of wet kittens if their lives depended on it!”
“Come, Beonna. We have seen everything we came to see. There is nothing we can do for your companions now.”
She cast a glance at her friends, so helpless there in their little prison. If only she could talk with them, just for a moment. She flew next to the bubble, directly in front of Gandalf. The white wizard’s face lit up. His bushy brows arched high as he squinted through the bubble’s wall. “Can he see us?” Beonna asked Inolduay in surprise.
“He sees something of us, perhaps. The Maiar is wise, but whether he understands what he sees, we can only guess.”
Beonna reached through the bubble and touched Gandalf’s hand. His gaze shot to his hand in wonder and then back to where she floated. “I am alive, Master Gandalf!” she shouted, praying that he could hear her somehow. “I am on the black fortress. Come and find me!”
She thought she saw Gandalf nod slightly. Then, Beonna felt herself rushing upwards, away from them, up through the water, past the black fortress, and into the air. In a blink, she found herself back in the boughs of Telperion with Inolduay, as if they had never moved at all.
The horror of everything she had just witnessed battered her. “We have to do something!”
“Yes, Beonna, we must act, but the moment is not yet.”
“But the Dagors have the Silmaril now!” she said. “They can open the Door of Everlasting Night and bring the Evil One back. We can’t wait any longer! The world will return to the age of darkness, when that monster ruled Middle-earth from his stronghold in Angbad!”
“Yes, and matters will go even harder now than in that troubled age. The strength of the elves is leaving Middle-earth to go into the West. The kingdoms of men, left alone, would pose little resistance to Morgoth’s reign should he return. The fate of the world balances on a blade.”
“Then we have to act!” Beonna paced the bough, trying to work it out in her mind. “My body is still on the Dagor fortress, along with your jewel. That means if we can escape from those bog-bats and get past those foul witches, we can do something to help. We can attack Angor. We can do something at least!”
“Yes, but you cannot do it alone, Beonna. Your allies are few on the dark fortress, and Angor’s are many. You cannot hope to oppose him by yourself.”
“But I have the Silmaril in my hands,” she said. “And I have you and your jewel. What power can they have over us while we wield these? Can we not use them to destroy their fortress?”
His silver eyes filled with compassion. “And would you destroy yourself too, Beonna?”
She steeled her countenance. “If it would save the world from the Lord of Evil, then yes, I would sink their black fortress and everyone on it. Even if it meant my life!”
“Everyone? Your friends on the fortress too, the enslaved crew? Would you sacrifice them, along with yourself, for the greater good?” She faltered and fell silent. “Angor would do anything necessary to reach his goal, Beonna, sacrifice any number of lives to achieve his end. Would you do that too?”
She turned away from him and looked at the rolling darkness below. It loomed much closer now than it had before. “When I set out on this journey, I sought what had been stolen from my people. I wanted to find the Glacenstar and, with it, restore our kingdom to its ancient glory. The Evil One destroyed our homeland in Norngalad. His forces broke our walls and scattered my people across Middle-earth. We will not even speak his foul name among ourselves now. I will not let that happen again to the world. I will do what I must to stop him!”
Inolduay drew near to Beonna and gazed at the dark storm with her. “There is one advantage we possess over the enemy. Though Angor has obtained the Silmaril, he cannot use it to free Morgoth from his prison yet. There is a place and a time where the boundary between our world and the realm of eternal night will be at its thinnest: in three days time on the cursed isle of Agôth Arn, where the Dagorim have held their stronghold through these long ages since the Dark One’s fall. The watchful stars above will be at their dimmest that night. It is then that Lord Angor must make his attempt to free his master. He will be in dire anxiety as he speeds across the waves to Arn, lest anything should befall when he stands so near to achieving his evil aim.”
“Then there is still hope,” she said, staring into the darkness. Her voice sounded strange to herself… far away. “But I cannot just sit here and wait for three days.” The storm clouds below her churned and flashed lightning as they swelled yet closer to their high branch. Fear gripped her heart as she came to a terrible decision.
“The world can never be without hope, Beonna. But hope needs patience to flower.”
She turned to him with a smile. “And sometimes it needs action, my beautiful friend. And I was not made for patience.” She kissed him on the cheek, and then with one step turned and leaped off the high bough.
“Beonna!”
The air whipped through her hair as the darkness rushed upwards to meet her. With Inolduay’s cries in her ears, she hurtled into the black clouds before she could open her mouth to scream.
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