Thingol is on his feet, reading quite a long scroll that he has let unfurl to the floor. His eyes rove over the paper with speed. He looks up and his gaze immediately rests on Turko.
“My kinsman Cirdan sent an urgent missive,” Thingol begins. “It seems–” Here, he pulls the scroll and starts rolling it back up. “That there has been a massive exodus from Valinor. Of the Noldor.”
Huh? Turko blinks. A second passes. Two. Five. Ten. When he proffers no answer nor any other reaction, Thingol descends the dais and hands him the scroll. Turko takes it in hand.
“Er,” the Noldo says. “I don’t–?”
“The Noldor have left Valinor by the thousands,” Thingol says. “Ferried over by the swan-ships of my kin the Falmari. They are led by one Curufinwe Feanaro, who is said to be their King. What do you know of these matters?”
Turko doesn’t stop himself. He gapes. He gapes at Thingol, as if anything the Sinda said does not make sense. And it doesn’t make sense to him. The last time he was in Valinor, haru Finwe had been very much well and alive, and was High King. His Atar was nowhere near the kingship, content to mutter in discontent against his lot in Aman and against the Valar in general. And the Noldor too, were pretty much content with their days of debate and Loremastery and craftwork last time he was in Tirion.
“I–,” Turko swallows. He scrambles for words, his gaze dropping to the scroll in his hands. He opens it, tries to read its contents, but his mind cannot wrap around anything to even begin to make sense of things. “But if my Atar is High King,” he says, looking up at Thingol again. “Then it means my haru – King Finwe– is—” He does not say the word, dead. His mind is quick to alert him of just exactly how he got here in Beleriand in the first place. A cold fist clenches around Turko’s heart. When– when he was in Ungoliant’s bag of Unlight, just what exactly–
[Along Came an Elf / Chapter 10 on AO3]
