They wandered long while Narwen regained her strength. They searched for a place they would call home. Thougth scattered settlements of the Noldor still existed in many places, some settlements established in the aftermath of many battles, to assure the logistics of caring for the wounded, and that meant everything from shelter to basic defense. She learned the spells of fire and metal, and loved them like all the Noldor did, her heart singing while watching her beloved’s face concentrating over his work, fire's reflection casting a gold and red shade over his dark complexion skin, the warmth of the fires and the effort of work painting over his strong body alluring shades and luster. The heat of the forge fires became bearable, even homely, and her hands also, strong already, learned skill and precision with hammers and tongs, their will and passion blending, channeling into creating beauty.
Jewlery, arrow heads or spear tips of all kinds became her joy too in this times of relative, nevesarry, peace. The lands the skilled hands of the high elves claimed were flourishing, in rock or brick, metal or wood. Nairawen -his heart of fire, and his sun too- he called her when the usual passion she invested into anything was being poured in the work of the forges and Clanaro was also often called Mortanaro by others, because of both his darker than usual complexion and the clouds of sadness that returned at times over his usually benevolent and serene demeanor. He seemed in those moments to see again some old ghosts and live again some old torment but it took only returning his eyes to his work or to Narwen for the clouds to be driven away.
And then, after long years, they found the breathtaking beautiful Eregion, the home that spoke to their hearth both when they seen it and they moved there. Vast plains, torrid during summer like burned by desire for something unattainable, with the mountains towering over the horizon and silver river bands singing hidden in beds of rock. Embellished with towns of slender buildings embroidered with glass and sculpture,their tall towers shining golden against the blue,often cloudless, sky. Game was plenty and so were berries and herbs. Life was good here and the Noldor befriended further the naugrim over their love for craft and crafting did thrive and much beauty and wonder was smithed in both Eregion and Khazad Dum. The younger learned from the older and grew into their own. Sorrows faded enough for life to be good again
And they too finally summoned new life within Narwen's womb and then grew him nourished with love and knowledge. She called him Turmallen and his father called him Pinaro, and he was the spitting image of his father and had the fiery heart and temper of his mother. He learned his skill within the forge from his father and also the ways of the warrior from many enough, for he searched to show his strength and delighted in besting a fight.. He also cherished the wisdom and craft knowledge of his father and did his best to learn from him. The forge was school and place to build memories, to become useful to his kin in times of peace too by skill and knowledge. He seemed to have gathered the best of his parents, strength of body and mind, joyful and bold spirit and a beauty reminding of them both, her wavy hair and slender figure, his darker skin and eye color.
But little did they all know of the next challenge before them. Skilled and charming Annatar of the Vala joined them offering knowledge and friendship and many liked them and would follow him, and their prince, Celebrimbor was also holding him in high regard and working alongside him. Alone they often held council and beautiful Anattar was lordly and majestic like the lords in Valinor of old. The hot forges and workshops were always lit and full and skill of craft became even more fashionable than before. The Noldor forgot old sorrows for newfound burning passion and wonderful things born on their anvils and worktables. Fires were burning strong, in forges and hearts ..
And then came betrayal for never was for the Noldor any lasting peace and joy like the cursed Vala told them long time ago. They lost all to ruin and seen their lord Celebrimbor slain and paraded dead, pierced by spear and arrows and they fought with madness, with the taste of their blood and tears on their lips, but ruin was the sole outcome of all their might for the deceive of Sauron hid them the strength he built over time to use against them.
Narwen fell in one of the counterattacks and her son madly fought defending her dead body against anything. They found him wounded, blooded but steadfast among piles of slain orcs. He carried his mother back on his arms to his father's home wounded as he was and all let them mourn her their way and give her a tomb near the house that sheltered her best years on this side of the sea. A fire was extinguished within Calanaro forever when burying his beloved. He closed his heart to everything else but his son.
Turmallen was away with the warriors fighting alongside the princes -a mercy of fate- when their small settlement was sacked and turned to rubble. Some escaped and later Turmalen learned from them about his father's last fight. His father refused to leave and made his stand at the doors of his forge and home maybe buying some time to those leading those unable to fight in search of another place of relative safety. He donned his old armor of black and gold and looked like descended of the images depicting the days of the Noldor return yo Middle earth, a light of stars within his eyes. He bid his apprentices to leave and make it to the still standing fortresses. He did not fight alone though. It seemed they were all of a mind, many smiths and builders old of days for they all showed out of their homes in armors they did not don in centuries, holding fierce old weapons that had drink kindred blood that they should not have touched, looking like old devils with stars as their eyes, statues of old came to life to fight once again revenging their lost peace with blood. Rivers of blood of their enemies poured onto the ground of beautiful Eregion nourishing it for a thousand years.
It was a lost battle from its start but what a battle it was! A sea of death came over them but they gave it much death in return until falling. Names of kings and princes of old were yelled like the war cries of ancient battles, some noble and some that some would rather not mention in this age.. For Feanor! For Curufin! Celebrimbor! For Maedros our king! One last time! He respectfully bowed to his neighbors of long time who prepared for that last stand their way. He was silent and behind all strength and anger he was tired. He gave the enemy hell but he was tired of hell keep coming back for him. He whisper one time only and it was only for himself not the brutes all around him when they came for him too many to defeat, when he welcomed death taking with him one last orc, sword within his black heart . It was "For Narwen!" So ended his tale, not in the way he'd choose but in a worthy way, defending dear places where he lived his best days and giving time to younger life to get to live their own best days elsewhere.
~
That “elsewhere” was for many Eregion survivors the newfounded Imladris, and Turmallen was among them. The loss of all that he held dear in such a short time took its toll on him and he took on the epesse Turnaer (grief master), a bitter tribute to his mother name (gold master). He was harsh to himself and, at times, too harsh to those around him when sadness overcome him, but he strives to live a worthy life that would not shame his parents if they could still watch him. He always shows admiration and understanding and friendship to the elves of old whose past makes others frown and he presses his lips silent rather than pass any judgment overt those times and choices. He strives to show balance and wisdom but whispers are that his dark moments are no joy to witness and that he can be edgy, revengeful and of a defiant cold cruelty when forced to make a choice between those he holds dear and any others, “fully his parents’s son” they say then the few who are still around that got to know Narwen and Mortanaro.
