Here follows the history of Mornariel's father, and how he came to know and love her mother. It is not present in the libraries of Arda, being known only by those who were there or were told.
Among the host of Fingolfin who braved the cold and hardship of the grinding ice was Hallon the Tall, a stone-wright of the Noldor. In Valinor he had taken great joy in the quarrying of rock and the raising of towers; but out of loyalty to his lord Finrod he had followed the great host, for stronger than any other call within him burned a fierce flame of duty. Behind the blue and silver banners of Fingolfin he arrived at Mithrim, and so came to dwell with the others of the host on the northern shore of that lake.
In temper Hallon was stern and spoke little, even when the time called for merriment, and many perceived him to be haughty. He took little pleasure in the company of his kinsfolk, feeling only true satisfaction from his labour to create new and greater works. While the host were encamped upon the lake he felt himself to be stagnating, caught in abeyance: looking upon the clear water of Lake Mithrim he would often remember the starlit waters that once he beheld in Valinor, and the great towers that were once wrought by the hands of his people. The proximity of the sons of Fëanor on the southern shores did little to improve his temper, for he saw their father as the cause of all the woes that the host of Fingolfin had endured in the crossing of the Helcaraxë, and indeed of those which had taken place ere they left for the Hither Shores – the sundering of kin from kin when duty had demanded his departure, and the cruel slaying of the Teleri at Alqualondë. His forgiveness was not swiftly bought, and even at Mereth Aderthad, the Feast of Reuniting, he was not disposed to speak kindly to those who had followed Fëanor, despite the truce and friendship that had been re-established between the two hosts.
When Finrod’s folk journeyed further south Hallon was among them, and thus among the stone-masons tasked with the raising of a great tower upon the isle of Tol Sirion. His heart was gladdened by this endeavour, and upon the isle was swiftly raised Minas Tirith, the watch-tower which in time would be given over to Orodreth.
It next came to pass that Hallon’s skills of stonework could be exercised when Finrod returned from a visit to Doriath. Around him Finrod gathered all the craftsmen of his folk, and spoke of the Caverns of Narog, on the western shore of that deep-running river, where he desired to build a grand stronghold like unto the great mansions of Menegroth, where dwelt Elu Thingol and his kin. There would be no Girdle of Melian, nor cover of trees to shield them from the eyes of the Great Enemy, yet his stronghold would be served well by the vastness and steepness of the Narog’s gorge and the tall crowns of the High Faroth through which all paths were but small and secret. Yet while the Noldorin stone-workers knew much of the raising of towers and the placing of good paths, the arts of delving halls beneath the ground were strange to them – and so Finrod called upon the Dwarves of Nogrod and Belegost for their aid in this endeavour, just as Thingol and Melian had done when Menegroth was wrought.
The delving of Nargothrond took many years of the sun, and the scope and ambition of the construction gave Hallon ample chance to spread his wings. Diligently and fervently he worked, devoting all his energy to perfecting the great halls and armouries that took shape in the Caverns of Narog. It was during this time that he took the epessë Ondotano, meaning Stonewright, for it was this occupation that was the greatest focus of his energies and love. Among the other elven craftsmen he became less withdrawn, for his enthusiasm was not selfish, and his love for the city which together they built was evident. Thus began the ceasing of Hallon’s stern and grim manner, though it would be many years yet before his heart would fully open.
To the Dwarves employed by Felagund, Ondotano was at first wary, and perhaps a little jealous; but his suspicions of them were in time assuaged by not only the knowledge that they were brought thither by Finrod’s wisdom, but also by the love of building that they shared, and so he grew to respect them as great craftsmen. Ever after did he refuse to call them the Naugrim, Stunted Ones, but respectfully called them the Casari (which was how the word ‘Khazad’ was rendered into the High-elven tongue).
After the completion of Nargothrond, Ondotano rested not. The realm of Finrod Felagund stretched westward until it reached the Havens of the Falas, Brithombar and Eglarest, where dwelt Círdan the Shipwright and his people. There was great friendship between the two peoples – and the Noldor of Nargothrond lent their aid in the strengthening of the Havens, building anew paths and homes and harbours, and in Eglarest the watch-tower of Barad Nimrais. The aid of Finrod’s folk was well-repaid by Círdan’s, and it is told that the Sindar instructed their Noldorin allies in the making and sailing of ships, and the elves of the Falas and of Nargothrond sent their swift-winged boats to the Isle of Balar, thinking that it could serve as a last refuge against evil, if times became so dire. Alphanar was one such ship-wright and mariner, who wrought ships white and fair, and knew well how to direct them through storm and sea. He and Ondotano were swift to become friends, for each was open to learn and desirous to teach, and so knowledge of their two crafts was exchanged, though never did the student surpass his teacher. Indeed, so like each other were they in skill and bearing, that they would have been thought brothers to those who knew them not.
This was not pleasing to the heart of Lamaechon, who was Alphanar’s brother in blood, and held him dearly above all others. He was proud and barb-tongued even to those he loved, and to Ondotano he would barely speak a civil word. Lamaechon would brood with jealousy when Ondotano and Alphanar sailed forth onto the sea, shunning the company of his older brother out of wounded pride, and pacing through his rooms playing sad songs upon his pipe. While the stone-wright was untroubled by this, counting that Lamaechon’s feelings were his own affair, Alphanar was distressed indeed, for he could not stand to see such strife between two he so esteemed. And so it came to pass that he confronted his brother, demanding "Why do you despise him so? He has done you no ill: only brought joy to the heart of your brother. Will you not take him as a friend yourself?"
Lamaechon replied: "He has indeed done me ill, for he has deprived me of my brother’s good company and turned his heart towards the proud Noldor. What need have we of their aid? Here beside the sea we need no fortresses, for Ossë and Ulmo protect us, and greater than walls is the mighty Ocean."
Alphanar rebuked him swiftly: "It seems your words fly forth from anger alone, unhindered by the wisdom I know you still bear behind such foolish speech. Surely you will not dream the Falas to be impermeable merely to justify an unearned dislike? Would you send away these who come in friendship, and leave our gates and walls unfinished that they may warmly greet our enemies instead? We may be strong against attack from the sea but against landbound foes we need walls and towers."
And by this speech was Lamaechon cowed, for he knew indeed that his words were rash and foolish – yet still he could not bend his heart in friendship to Ondotano, though his brother wished it. Often would Alphanar request Lamaechon’s presence when he and Ondotano were setting forth on some new enterprise, but it was long before the jealous Lamaechon would consent to the company of this usurper. At length he agreed, fallen to his brother’s pleading: he would accompany them in sailing to Balar.
Grudgingly Lamaechon boarded the slender boat: as they sailed southwards, Alphanar spoke animatedly and enthusiastically, hoping to draw together his two more taciturn companions. Passing Barad Nimrais, which stood so sharp and proud upon the white cliffs, Alphanar spoke praises of the watch-tower, so finely-built, and the skilled hands of the Noldor who had wrought it for them. Yet Lamaechon was unmoved. Undaunted was Alphanar, and eventually some small civilities passed between them – and perhaps this endeavour would have borne fruit, had it not been interrupted. For Ossë, whom it greatly pleased to cause great storm and tumult, brought upon the waves a great tempest that shook the ship like a wind-blown leaf. All thought turned to but one thing: the toil of righting their vessel against the tempest that assailed them. In the struggle of saving their ship from wrack, a bond was formed betwixt the three that would not else have arisen. Lamaechon saw Ondotano’s steadfast determination, his valiance – and in Lamaechon Ondotano perceived the depth of his love for Alphanar, how he would risk his life’s ending in order that his brother be kept safe. In this adversity, mutually endured, the two came to respect each other – and after a time, to love as well, though the bond between these two perhaps ever remained the weakest of the three.
Ondotano became as sworn-brother to these two blood-brothers, and indeed much beloved of their father Oreldir. To Alphanar and Lamaechon he gave a pledge that if ever they were in need he would offer his swift and unquestioning aid – and from them he received the same oath. In their house he was a welcome guest, received and as beloved a kinsman as though it were his home by birth. After the rebuilding of Brithombar was complete, oft in later days would he journey back to that settlement – in part to fulfil his obligation as craftsman, to ensure the structures yet held firm, but moreover to visit the house of Oreldir and partake of merriment with his closest comrades. These visits to the Falas would one day prove of great import to him, and to those he dearly loved.
It was on his return from such a visit that Ondotano first encoutered the elf who would be his wife – Hendalassëa, the Joyful-Eyed. Young she was, and full of life and happiness, and eager to share this with all she met. Only very recently had she reached the full bloom of elven adulthood, and it is said that more than one of the Nargothrondrim was enraptured by the glimmering light that was kindled in her eyes. But it was that which was kindled in her soul that drew together she and Ondotano, for in both of them strongly burned a flame desirous of creation, of the making of things new and beautiful. But while he wrought paths and towers of enduring stone, her craft was of a more delicate nature, for she drew metals into fine slender shapes and cut and polished gems, and together fused these into jewellery with which she adorned herself and those she favoured.
They first met in the forges, when Hendalassëa’s fine eyes were illuminated by the red coals and saw naught but the silver which she painstakingly moulded. Ondotano stopped and watched, sensing and admiring her dedication to her craft. The two spoke little to each other, yet the words they did exchange were of great sincerity, and their manner of speech told of much admiration that the words alone displayed not. Thus they met, year by year, he watching her in the forges, or she regarding him as he checked the pillars for faults. Often after their first meeting would Ondotano make comments upon jewellery he saw, asking after the identity of the creator, and Hendalassëa be seen wandering the great halls and corridors of Nargothrond with eyes cast to the walls and ceilings, thinking of Ondotano and his strength and skill.
When next Ondotano journeyed to his friends in Brithombar, his thoughts ever turned to the elf-maid he had left behind, for she haunted his dreams like a fair, lingering song. He resolved to give her some fine gift, and so before his return to Nargothrond he visited the quarries from which the stones of the Havens had been hewn, and there he dug until he found a fine beryl free of imperfections. He presented it proudly at the House of Oreldir at the feasting-table where friends and brothers sat, and there it was asked of him: "What will you do with this perfect jewel?"
He told them it would be a gift for a young maiden he loved, and this was met with some surprise, for though his comrades counted him good and true, they knew that to many he yet presented a face that was grim and stern, and could little believe that his heart was softened with such love. And most congratulated him and wished him luck, but Lamaechon asked: “It is beautiful, yes, but unshaped and unpolished – surely you will not give her a gift that is unfinished?” And at that Ondotano smiled, and told them: “Nay, to polish it would be to rob my lady of her gift – for it is her delight to take rough gems and turn them into glittering jewels, and place them at the centre of her adornments. The gift I wish to give her is not the gem itself, but the joy of making something from it.” At this all his companions were satisfied, and it was in whispers wondered if she should yet make a glittering jewel of the stony Ondotano – for while Lamaechon’s heart was kind to him, the jests of his tongue were ever a little harsher.
Ondotano and his gift were greeted with much joy by his beloved Hendalassëa, for she was enchanted by the bright green stone, and immediately her mind filled with possible ways to most enhance its beauty. She thanked him most sincerely, and thence she retreated. In private she studied the gift of the stone-wright, and through the high-pillared halls she wandered, and to the crest of the high gorge of the Narog, and through the verdant forests of Felagund’s realm: and in all that she saw, she perceived patterns, of rock and of plant and of water, and everything was in her mind transformed to gold or silver filigree and placed around that shining gem. Long were the hours of her contemplation, and this new solitude was remarked upon by those of her acquaintance, for it seemed as though she took less joy in the company of others, thinking only of the gem she had been given.
When at last her designs were perfected, she began to cut and polish the gem, and create the setting for it. Long was this labour, for she desired precision above all, and strove to make it match exactly the idea in her mind. She worked upon it in secret, not allowing herself to be watched. Upon the completion of this work, she kept it in her room for some days while she rested, before seeking out her beloved. Proudly, yet shyly, she showed him the necklace that she had wrought – strands of gold and silver, fine yet strong, capturing in a gentle embrace the jewel which blazed so brilliantly in the torchlight of the caverns. His face broke into a great smile, for she had exceeded all her previous work. Looking at her tenderly, he asked why she did not yet wear it, for it was fair indeed, and would be yet more fair if worn by her. She gave no response in words, but reached forward and clasped the ornament about his neck, blushing as she did so. No words were needed, for he well understood her, and at last any doubts in his heart evaporated like mist at dawn. They remained gazing at one another in silence and love, until at length Ondotano spoke:
"Fair indeed is this gift you have wrought me, Hendalassëa. But this is not the fairest jewel in Nargothrond – for she yet stands before me."
Ever after did he name her Felyamírë, the Jewel of the Cave, for in his eyes she was the most precious thing ever to be found in the Caverns of Narog, above all riches and outshining all beauties. Such is the nature of devoted love; and in time she was to make for her beloved a plain silver ring, and one year later its golden replacement, to formalise their union in the bond of matrimony. Of their love many great fruits were borne, for in creation they each inspired the other onto greater heights of skill, and in temperament the sternness of Hallon the Tall was utterly melted away by the tenderness of his beloved wife, and so they lived in happiness and sociability among the folk of Finrod. But the fruits of their marriage, which were to endure long after Nargothrond had passed beneath the waves into legend, were not creations of metal and stone but of fëa and hröa – for it was their children who were to go Eastwards and walk through the later ages of the earth.
