#falmari

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photo credits (left to right, top to bottom):

row 1: ph: Corianne Elizabeth, model: Felicia Smith (Corianne & Felicia) // ph: Ashley Holloway, model Roarie Yum // fashion label: Azzi & Osta // ph: Bernardo Baragaño, model: Celía Sastre

row 2: Corianne & Felicia again // ph: Lafalaise Dion, model: thatbubblegirl // stylist: Melanie Grant, ph: Sandrine Dulermo & Michael Labica, model: Genesis // Corianne & Felicia again

It's another ordinary day in Alqualondë. You've just spent the whole day sailing, and you've just returned to the harbour. The city is sparkling and beautiful in the evening light, and you're excited to tell your family about your day at sea.

You stop to chat with friends, trade stories and laugh before you continue on your way home. You are completely at peace, ready to end the day with a nice dinner.

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, an all-consuming darkness falls upon the world. The beautiful light of the Two Trees has suddenly been extinguished. You can't see anything, not even your own hands in front of you.

You hear people crying out all around you in a cacophony of shock and terror. Your heart is racing against your chest. You don't know what's happening. Why is it so dark? What has happened to the Two Trees? Where has the light gone?

People stumble to light torches and candles and lanterns; anything to break this pitch darkness. Eventually, there are lanterns and torches lit up around the city. You've managed to find a torch, and now you can see in front of you again. But you're still scared. Everyone is just as confused and terrified as you are. No one knows what exactly is going on.

And then you start hearing news.

The Two Trees are dead. Melkor has destroyed them with the help of a terror named Ungoliant.

And now Melkor has just slain High King Finwë in Formenos.

You're horrified by the news. This is the very first time someone has been slain in Aman. And that too, Melkor, the most powerful Vala, has fallen to evil.

But the nightmare is far from over.

Not long after the news of Finwë's death has spread, an entire army comes marching to the gates of your city. It's an army composed entirely of Noldor, all of them carrying blades and spears and wearing helms upon their heads. You recognize some of your Noldorin friends in this army, but they may as well be strangers right now. Their eyes burn with an all-consuming anger and determination as they draw closer to the city.

And at the very front, leading this army, is Fëanor.

The sight of him scares you. His eyes burn with the fires of madness. It's obvious that he's grieved by the death of his father, but you don't like how he stares at your swan-ships, how unhinged his words are.

Then he demands to take your ships.

His demand leaves you speechless. Your friends are just as speechless, as is your king Olwë. The weight of Fëanor's demand is absurd. He claims that he needs them for vengeance. They need to get to Middle-earth so they can exact their revenge upon Morgoth and take back the Silmarils that he stole.

But the swan-ships are the pride of your kindred. You and your people have spent many long years crafting them and making them beautiful. And above all, your ships are vital to your daily lives. You need them for fishing, for sailing. The ships are as precious to you as the Silmarils are to Fëanor. And the Noldor don't know anything about sailing, and you don't want to see them wreck your creations that you worked so hard to make.

And that too, you do not like the prospect of waging war against Morgoth. It's obvious that Fëanor and his army aren't fully prepared for a war against a mighty fallen Vala. A campaign like this would need lengthy, proper planning.

Olwë tries to calm things down. He tries to talk sense into Fëanor, tries to dissuade him from his rage. But Fëanor is too far-gone to understand reason. And now he and his people start to insult you. They scorn you, claim that you would be nothing without their aid in building Alqualondë. Worse, your Noldorin friends are hurling similar insults. The words cut deep, and you're astonished. Are these really the same people whom you gladly received in your own home? Is this what they really think of you and your kind?

And then you notice some of the Noldor rushing towards your ships anyways. You and some of your Telerin friends rush after them, try to block their path. The Noldorin soldiers push you, insult you, and enough is enough. You spit in their face, and push one of them with all of your force.

"Get you gone, thief!" you shout. "You will not touch our ships!"

That's it. Swords are drawn, and Fëanor's shouting something you barely hear.

And then, the host of Noldor charges.

What follows is a horrific bloodbath. All around you, your kindred are being cut down by Noldorin blades. Their blood spills through the streets of Alqualondë, into the harbor. Their cries of anguish fill the air. You have nothing to fight back with, except your hunting knife. You try to fight back as much as you can, but the Noldor have the upper hand with their weapons. You watch your close friends get cut down, their bodies thrown off the ships they're trying to defend.

It hurts to fight back. You've never fought like this, so your movements are clumsy. Nevertheless, you manage to defend yourself. But your former Noldorin friends don't hesitate to fight you, and they leave you with many injuries.

It's a blur of chaos and bloodshed. At some point, a host led by Fingolfin joins in on the fray and you're all but outnumbered. In the end, your ships are stolen by Fëanor and his army, and they've left Alqualondë a ruin.

By some miracle, you've survived. But it doesn't feel like a miracle.

The air is heavy with the smell of blood and death. You hear the cries of your kindred all around you; pure, anguished wailing that shatters your heart. You stagger through the blood-stained streets, seeing the slain bodies of the people you know. You find the bodies of your friends floating in the harbour. Tears run hot down your cheeks, and you begin to weep. Your cries join those of your kindred as you collapse to your knees.

Other survivors find you. They take care of your injuries and bandage them. You help them, heal their wounds as well. But there's nothing that can heal the wounds dealt to your very heart and soul.

Then you learn that Fëanor has burned your ships. Those beautiful ships that you and your people have spent so many years crafting, they're gone forever.

It's another wound to your shattered soul.

You aren't alone in your grief. Lady Uinen has unleashed her own wrath upon the Noldor, sinking the stolen ships into the sea in her grief. The Valar also grieve for you, and Námo proclaims the Doom of the Noldor, barring them from returning to Aman. The Sindar, your kindred in Middle-earth, are just as furious on your behalf when they hear the news.

But it's all a cold comfort.

Eventually, you begin to heal. You help your kindred rebuild your ships, make them as beautiful as before. You sail them everyday, care for them, use them as they were meant to be used. But no matter what, it will never be the same.

Your community heals gradually. But the horror of the kinslaying still lingers in Alqualondë like a shadow; a festering wound that won't truly go away. They say that Morgoth is the ultimate evil, but what the Fëanorians did to your kindred was just as evil. Nothing can possibly erase the horror of that night, when blood spilled through the streets of Alqualondë.

You will never look at those Noldorin friends the same way again. You become very protective over your city, and your ships. Every year, your community holds a memorial, setting lanterns afloat in the water to remember those who died in the First Kinslaying.

You swear to never help the Noldor, even if they plead for forgiveness. It will be a lifetime before you're ready to forgive the Noldor for their betrayal.

Description: The Vanyar all have golden hair.

Noldor:

About: The Noldor is the second host of the Eldar. Noldor means those who know, showing their thirst for knowledge. They are known for being the most skillful of the Eldar hosts and were loved by Aule, whom they learned from. Their most known skills include developing their language, building castles and towns, gem cutting, and smithing. They are also infamously known as being the proudest of the Elvers. They have advantage in Intelligence and Wisdom. As a Noldor you can be devoted to any of the Valar except Namo. They favor swords and shields above other weapons. They are residents of Tirion, Formenos, Nevrast, Hithlum, Gondolin, Nargothrond, Dorhonion, All East Beleriand, and Lindon (all over Beleriand these are just the most known of). They speak Sindarin (common) and Quenya. If they were born in Valinor they glow in the dark meaning enemies might spot them.

Description: The Noldor are known for their black (dark) and a few times red hair, and grey eyes. They are about 7 feet tall.

Teleri:

About: The Teleri is the third and largest host of the Eldar who moved to Valinor. They are known for their fair voices, which they were once named after. They have advantage in Intelligence and Charisma. They are residents of Alqualondë, Isle of Balar, Ossiriand, Doriath, Tol Eressëa, and Mithlond. They speak Sindarin (common), Quenya, Telerin, and Nandorin. If they were born in Valinor they glow in the dark meaning enemies might spot them.

Description: They are known for their mostly silver, and at times dark, hair, and some were said to have skin so pale it was described as white.

Falmari (Sub-Race of the Teleri): The Falmari were the Teleri who took the Great Journey into Beleriand and reached Valinor, and are known for their ships. They are residents of Alqualondë and Tol Eressëa. They speak Sindarin (common), Quenya, and Telerin.

Sindar (Sub-Race of the Teleri): The Sindar, also known as the grey Elvers are good singers, woodsmen, and shipbuilders. Their hair is usually dark. They are residents in Doriath, the Falas, and Nan Elmoth (all over Beleriand these are just the most known of). They speak Sindarin (common).

Nandor (Sub-Race of the Teleri): The Nandor is the Teleri who turned aside from the Great Journey to the Misty Mountains, they are described as having white skin, and dark or brown hair, and are great lovers of nature and animals in the dark and deep forests, and are a very secretive folk. They are called green Elvers. They are farmers out from their name Nandor which means farmer. They are residents of Lothlórien, as the first people there, Greenwood the Great (although that´s first mentioned in the second age, they where the first residents there so they probably where there in the first age too), Belfalas, Ithilien, might have been the first there, and Ethir Anduin, as the first people there. They speak Sindarin (common), Silvan Elvish, and Nandorin (their own language). If you play as a Nandor you automatically have an Elven Cloak (a cloak that can blend into any form of environment and gives you +3 on stealth).

Silvan (Sub-Race of the Nando): Silvan, also known as wood Elvers, are rivals to Dwarves, and descending of the Nandor who choose to live in the Vales of Anduin. They are residents of Lothlórien, Ithilien, Edhellond, Greenwood the Great, and Belfalas. They speak Sindarin (common) and Silvan Elvish (their own langue). If you play as a Silvan you automatically have an Elven Cloak (a cloak that can blend into any form of environment and gives you +3 on stealth).

Avari (Moriquendi): 

About: The Avari, or unwilling according to the Vanyar and Noldor, where the Elvers who refused to take the great journey. Some of them are said to know dark magic (following the letters and drafts it´s either song or rune magic (you can choose only one if playing an Avari)) and others where said to be corrupted by Morgoth or having turned savage in the wild, and their biggest rivals are said to be the Eldar. What is known about them is that they lived in tribes with unique and private cultures and rituals, some big others small, consisting of usually family, although only six tribes are mentioned; Kindi, Cuind, Hwenti, Windan, Kinn-lai, Penni. They are residents of Eriador, Rhûn, Taur-Im-Duinath, and the Vales of Anduin. They speak Sindarin (common) and various Avarin languages (their own languages).

Description: Nothing is said about how they look.