[First Age of the Sun, Year 455. Thargelion. Three days before the beginning of the Dagor Bragollach, Battle of Sudden Flame]
"I need to go, Amya."
"Don't go, Yonya."
"But it is my duty."
"You are a sculptor, Yonya. I gave you the flame Nerdanel offered me, and she got it from her father, Mahtan who received it from the Maker. The flame wants to be lit! It wants to be lit within each work of yours, within each statue and each stone!"
"I shall return to Thargelion next autumn."
She was silent for a moment.
He rolled his eyes.
"Amya... I told you many times. Serving in the cavalry basically means waiting. And more waiting. And maintaining forts. I do not know what you think of the north, but it is not half as dangerous as you think it is. Most probably, even Thargelion is more perilous."
But she did not answer.
"Amya, do you think I am joking? What could possibly happen? Tell me. Angamando belching forth flames? Ard-Galen shaking? Or maybe...our strongholds bursting??"
He laughed.
She tried to laugh too, but his words had stirred something in her mind... something she did not understand. But she could smell it in the air - it was her own fear.
But what was she afraid of?
Confusion took her.
"I will return next autumn."
She looked at him. He was young, and blithe. He was eager to learn, and even Macilwë's malice had not yet poisoned his ardour.
He took his cloak and his bag.
The days of her youth in Tirion came before her eyes.
For the first time in her life, she had made a decision. She wanted to become a sculptor. And nobody would stand in her way!
And she had decided to take part in the rebellion.
She knew how powerful decisions could be, and she knew the bittersweet meaning of freedom. Wasn't this freedom the Noldor had won? Wasn't this freedom her kindred had paid for with so much pain and blood?
"Go, Yonya. Go. Serve our Lord Macalaurë" she said, and managed a faint smile.
"It is not my intention to decide anything for you. Go now... Ráolor, my son."
He smiled at her, and mounted his stallion.
It should be the last time he beheld Ilmariel of Tirion, his mother, within the confines of Middle-Earth.
[Translations and notes:
Amya - my mother / Mum (Quenya)
Yonya - my son (Quenya)
Nerdanel - daughter of Mahtan and wife of Fëanor. She was considered a superb sculptor
Mahtan - a disciple of the Vala Aulë. One of few bearded elves, and a legendary smith
The Maker - another name for the Vala Aulë
Angamando - Iron Gaol (Quenya). Another name for Angband, the mighty fortress of Morgoth
Tirion - the great city of the Noldor upon the hill of Túna in Valinor
Macalaurë - Gold-Cleaver (Quenya). Another name for Maglor, second son of Fëanor]
