He saw the ships burning for long time in the night and the darkest despair conquered his soul. He closed his conscience before, when they were cursed and when they seized the ships and killed all who opposed them, warriors or crafters. He did not stain his own hands then with brotherly blood but he saw many, so many of his company of choice, stained in the blood of their brothers. His heart sank in despair then, understanding how another would too die to not part with their prized creation. Where the teleri not the same as his king, claiming their rights over their treasure, work of their souls, at the price of blood? Was it no other way ? Yet he turned back not, nor leave them.He followed her and her house and he committed his heart to their cause to any end scared as his heart was.
He saw Nariel back then her sword and armor stained in blood. She was like a statue of power and unquestionable will, her grace and precision admirable like the most exquisite choreography, her fierce loyalty to her kin a shield that seemed to stun any enemy. She was in dark armor, of leather and plate, and her beauty was emphasized by the red details of feanor's followers. Her hair of an unbelievable red remained gracefully braided like the madness of the figth was merely a dance over a passionate tune. She was unshaken, un repentful. He thought he saw pitty in her eyes when she looked at him and he steeled his will and -he hoped- the look in his eyes. He loved her and wanted to winn her for a long time. She was the forge fire melting his will into gold and silver pools of hope with a glance and he'd turn into steel if that is what it took for the look in her eyes to show ahomething else than pitty. The beauty of craft or song was not doing the job of conquering her heart, then he will learn the tune her of her world and master it.
And then they swore and they left the blessed realm.when she left with her house to follow their king he could not think but to follow.But now his heart sank deeper than ever before for he too treasured the work of his hands greatly.. He wandered far from the rest, from the noise of metal and yhe shouts, away from preparations for decisions that he was too shaken to understand. The prized treasure of other craftsmen was burning for nothing before his eyes and in the flames he though seeing the distorted faces of those killed in order to acquire the ships. In madness he undressed and stepped into the water, to swim and save them from the burning ships. They were no ghosts, they were real, so real that he would save them or die trying, for was it not death the song theme of this days? So many dead. So much death. Come, save us! Estinguish the flames! Come!
Then her hand grabed his arm and stopped him Where are you going, Calanarro? She saw the madness in his eyes when he turned his head, surprised, confused, and her heart sank too. He was here only for her, she knew that. He was always at her heels, trying to catch her eye, to impress her. She was impressed. He was beautiful and talented and the works of his hands a prize for the most demanding eye. He was passionate for all things of beauty and strong with the things of his migthy forge, powerful and knoledgeable in his arts, able to twist metal into things of beauty and use. Where are you going? He was about to cast himself into the water and swim to his death in the flames of those ships. His following her did that to him. He had no stomach for war but he was hers with a loyalty beyond kin, passions and desires. And she made up her mind then,while he was looking lost between her and whatever ghosts were calling to him from the teleri ships. No ghosts will claim his life in revenge, death without reason or gain. She made up her mind with no regrets.
Standing between him and the sea and its flames she pulled the laces holding her tunic together and she stepped closer, her eyes not leaving his and then she put her arms around his neck without hesitation. He was still dazed and confused and his eyes moved from to burning ships to her face with the deepest lack of understanding. Their bodies sharing warmth under the cool breeze felt intimate and as it should be.She reached up and kissed him.
Did you not come here to win my heart? It is yours if you claim it. Claim me, not death. I am here.. She kissed him again and she looked up to read his face.He was still pray to a deep disbelief but more present than moments before, looking at her mouth with such intensity that she bit her lips slightly embarrassed but unrepentful. She smiled and pulled him towards her. She won the fight with the ghosts of fire. He returned her kiss and their embrace seemed the only thing that mattered while everything else in the world seemed to fade around them, a fate-changing moment binding them forever, under all stars, in this world and any other realm where life or death would take them.There were no oaths and no feast and no dances but from the rise of the next day's sun she called herself his wife and him her husband and there was undeniable love among them for centuries to come, a love growing from seeds nourished by ashes and blood, as it is the way of nature,and all the ghosts staid forgotten, buried in memories too old for but a few to remember.
