Healing What is Marred

by Chisscientist

Summary:

Finarfin and Finrod work to understand each other after Finrod's return from Mandos, while preparing for the War of Wrath and Finrod's wedding.

Chapter 1: The Mariner from Middle-earth

I was walking in Yavanna's gardens when the summons came. I had been hoping for it ever since the messenger had told me that a traveler from beyond the sea had come to Tirion and been called before the Valar.

"Arafinwe son of Finwe, your presence is required at the Ring of Doom. There is news that you should learn for the guidance of your people."

I bowed to the messenger. "I will come."

"Follow me," he said, beckoning me to follow him up the long winding path to the Ring of Doom. I followed after him. When we arrived, I saw that Ingwe also was present, as well as the newcomer from beyond the sea. He was rather odd looking, and I wondered why before realizing that he lacked the light of the Two Trees in his eyes. His features also were strange to me, being coarser than is usual in one of the Eldar, although they appeared not uncomely on his face. Chairs had been placed within the Ring of Doom, one of which had been left empty, presumably for me. Clearly whatever they planned would take some time...

"Ingwe of the Vanyar, Arafinwe of the Noldor, you are summoned here today to hear tidings from the outer world. We have decided that it is time to overthrow Morgoth, and to overturn the ban on the Noldor's return. Olwe of the Teleri is receiving the news in Alqualonde as we speak." Manwe gestured to the stranger. "This is a messenger from Middle Earth. You should hear what he has to say. His name is Earendil and he is Idril's son, though his father is one of the Aftercomers."

Earendil stood, and bowed to us and to the Valar before sitting down again. "It is hard to know where to begin," he said softly, "save to say that I am very glad that the Valar have decided to do something about Morgoth. Without action, all Middle Earth will fall under his yoke. It is very close to being thus already. Those left behind are helpless refugees caught between his minions on one side and the sea on the other - those that do not already labor in torment for Morgoth's gain. All of the Noldor realms have fallen, and those of the Teleri's relatives the Sindar likewise lie in ruins. As for the Hildor, those who dared defy Morgoth are in a similar state, while others worship Morgoth as if he were Eru."

It looked like my worst predictions had come to pass. "How did it happen?" I found myself asking calmly.

"Morgoth was too strong for us. The oath of Feanor and the Doom of Mandos did the rest. We were never strong enough to overthrow Angband or completely surround it, with the result that he was constantly inventing new things to throw at us. His orcs breed like flies, and no matter how many we killed there were always more. Perhaps I should start at the very beginning. When the Noldor arrived in Beleriand they found the Sindar already present, with a large kingdom under Olwe's brother Elwe."

"Elwe is alive?" I exclaimed. "How can that be?"

"He was alive then. It is a long story, but the reason he went missing is that he fell spectacularly in love with a maia named Melian. They later married and founded a realm called Doriath. Even before Morgoth's return, the people of Doriath had been fighting with his creatures. These creatures had been increasing in number in anticipation of his return. I presume that you know the story of the Doom of Mandos and the kin slaying at Alqualonde?"

Ingwe and I nodded. Oh, we knew that tale too well already.

"The Noldor who went forward argued and many were angry with Feanor. He returned their ire, taking the ships he had stolen from the Teleri and slipping away across the ocean with his sons and their followers. They burned the ships, stranding the rest of the Noldor in Araman. Due to Feanor's carelessness in making sure that everybody was out of the ships, they also burned Umbarto."

"Feanor did what?!" said Ingwe in horror. "He burned his own son alive?"

"I am told it was an accident. As it was long before I was born, I really cannot offer an opinion."

"What of those left behind in Araman?" I asked. My children, my brother and Lalwende, what of them?

"They crossed the Helcaraxe on foot. Many perished during the crossing, but most made it alive to the other side." I breathed a sigh of relief.

Earendil continued speaking, and we learned of Feanaro's death, of Maitimo's captivity, his rescue by Findekano and the healing of the feud between the Noldorin factions, and of the long peace. I learned that both Arothir and Artanis had married Sindar, and that I had two great-grandchildren that I had never met. Then he told us of the Dagor Bragollach that ended it.

He faced be squarely and told me that Angarato and Aikanaro died in it, taken by the flames with no bodies left to bury. That Findarato had barely escaped with the aid of the Aftercomers, that Nolofinwe had died in single combat with Morgoth. I stared at the floor feeling sick and stricken. Of course I should not have expected my family to be spared, for they too came under the Doom of Mandos. More than most, given that they were of the house of Finwe. Even if they did no wrong save to allow duty to kin and curiosity to pit them against the will of the Valar. That of course, was quite enough... At least Findarato, Artanis and Arothir were still alive.

But the next tale he told me robbed me of that comfort. Findarato was dead in the depths of a foul dungeon far from light. Artanis had left over the eastern mountains and Earendil said he did not know her fate. Were all my children dead? How was I going to tell Earwen?

The tale of ruin continued. I lost track of which of my relatives had died - it was starting to sound like none of them had survived. Lost battles, burnt cities, destroyed peoples, treachery and yet more kin slaying. Were the sons of Feanaro mad? It certainly sounded like it. Finally, Earendil came to the end of his tale. Ingwe and I stared at him silently, with tears staining our cheeks.

Manwe spoke. "In order to free Middle Earth, there will be an army needed. Are you willing to lend your aid to destroy Melkor, and free Middle Earth of his taint forever?"

"I am willing," I answered. "I have no doubt that my people will be also."

"And I," said Ingwe. "The Noldor have suffered enough, let alone the rest of Middle Earth's population."

"Then go forth, and make these things known to your people."

We stood and bowed, then turned and strode away.

0000

Earwen was waiting for me in the gardens when I returned. "Why did the Valar summon you?" she asked. "Did the messenger from Middle Earth bring news? Is it bad? You look terrible."

I looked away, and willing to meet her eyes. Instead, I studied the patterns the elanor made in the grass before my feet. When I spoke, it was in a monotone. "The Valar are sending an army to destroy Morgoth. I've called a meeting for tomorrow, to ask the Noldor for their aid." I had never imagined I'd be asking for an army to go to Middle Earth to bail out our relations - what few of them were still alive.

"Why did the Valar changed their minds? What has been happening in Middle Earth?"

"They didn't entirely explain, but basically Morgoth has destroyed everything and everyone in his path and and sentenced every single inhabitant of Middle Earth to death or slavery until the end of time. We're going to have to rescue them. Damn Feanor!"

"So long as he stays in Mandos, I don't particularly care what happens to him," said Earwen.

"You haven't heard half of it," I answered. "He betrayed most of the Noldor, then accidentally burned his youngest son to death before getting himself killed through sheer stupidity. He didn't even have to live with the consequences of his deeds!"

"And worst of all... They are dead, Earwen. Findarato, Angarato, Aikanaro, Arothir, even a great-granddaughter we have never met. They say Artanis might be alive, but Earendil doesn't know... I should have asked lord Namo. He would know. My brother and my sister are dead. The Noldor in exile are being ruled by a son of Arothir's who is not even a hundred years old because everyone else is dead!"

It felt strange, looking into the sea of faces and remembering another mass meeting which called all too many of the Noldor to their deaths in Middle Earth. It is different this time, I told myself. We go with the will of the Valar not against it. At least the morning sunlight did not remind me of flickering torches in the gloom. I was no Feanor, to whip my people into fury to act against their own wills, so I laid out the facts simply and straightforwardly. If they wanted to follow me, they would do so of their own free will and no other.

There was silence when I finished. "Will you come?" I asked.

The resulting cries of "Yes! Of course we will!" nearly deafened me. I wondered how Ingwe had fared.

Chapter 2: They are Not Lost Forever

I spent the next two weeks in Valmar, having discussions about the coming war with Ingwe and the Valar. We were making good progress, but it did not seem quite real to me somehow. Getting up every morning knowing that almost all of my family were in Middle-earth under doom of the Valar had been bad enough, but knowing they actually were dead was worse. I couldn't imagine them as being happy anymore. Earwen was miserable, but seemed to be holding together better than I, and I leaned heavily on her strength to get me through the days.

At the end of the last meeting before returning to Tirion, lord Namo called me aside. I followed him out of the Ring of Doom, wondering what this could be about. I had already asked him about Artanis, and he had told me that he did not have her in his halls. Hopefully that had not changed. Some half dozen paces beyond the Ring he stopped. "As you know, most of the exiled Noldor currently dwell in my halls. With the change in policy towards Middle-earth, it has been decided to start releasing those of the Noldor who are ready to return, and who are willing to help heal the damage that their rebellion has caused. Those first to return will also be training the warriors in fighting skills and teaching them about Middle-earth."

"That is excellent!" I said. "Will there be many returning soon, or just a few? How should we prepare to receive them?"

"At first, only a very few. Most of the Noldor are not ready to return, and will not be for many years yet. Some will never be. There are two who will be ready to meet their families in the gardens of Lorien a week from today. One of them is Glorfindel, the youngest son of Naro and Aiwen. I would appreciate it if you would inform his mother of his return."

"I will do so gladly," I said. It would be nice to have joyful news to give for once. I knew only too well the pain she must be in right now.

"The other is your eldest son Findarato."

I froze. Findarato alive again? Oh praise Eru! Please tell me I heard correctly...

"Both your son and Glorfindel died to save others, didn't do anything too evil while exiled, and didn't truly want to go in the first place. They also have extremely useful skills and have volunteered to return early into a situation unlikely to be comfortable for exiled Noldor. You should be proud of them."

I nodded. "I am proud, but I shall be even more glad to get them back."

Namo nodded. "I am glad to get them out of my halls." His eyes widened as he realized how what he had just said sounded. "Not that I want to get rid of them," he said quickly, "but the place is getting rather crowded and I look forward to it being emptier. I miss the quiet."

"I imagine that halls fall of disembodied noldorin Fea would not be very peaceful, especially when one of them is my half brother."

"That is so. Speaking of which, I should really return to my halls."

I bowed. "Thank you lord Namo, for letting me know the state of things." And for returning my son to me.

"You're very welcome, king of the Noldor." With that, lord Namo vanished, and I was alone among the rocks. Alone, but happier than I had been in many years. My family were not lost to me forever!

I looked down the mountain. Despite the temptation, I would not try and run to the bottom. Being king of the Noldor included an unfortunate requirement that one remain dignified. Still, I looked forward to telling Earwen! I began to walk down the long path towards Valmar.

Chapter 3: In the Gardens of Lorien

I was lying on my back, and I could feel warmth shining on my face. It was very comfortable, but I had an odd feeling that I was supposed to be doing something. Could I have overslept? Overslept for what? I opened my eyes. The light was dazzling and I put my arm up over my face to defend my eyes, then lowered it gradually as they adjusted. I was lying on a sward of grass. Not far away, a fountain tinkled merrily. The light and warmth was sunlight. It was beautiful.

Where was I, and how had I gotten here? I sat up, feeling oddly light-headed.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Findarato," said a voice from my left. I turned my head to look. There was a person there, smiling in welcome. Findarato, that was my name, wasn't it? Yes, that much I remembered. Welcome back to the land of the living... I'd been dead? I remembered a grey empty place, and solemn eyes that looked at me and requested that I explain my actions. Mandos. Lord Namo. Yes, I had been dead. I looked again at the person, and realized from the glow that he was a maia.

"My name is Olorin," the maia said. "You are in the gardens of Lorien, and I am one of Lorien's followers. I'm here to help you adapt to being alive again. How do you feel?"

"Al... Alive," I said, struggling with the word. I smiled. Yes, being embodied again was very good.

"That's good," Olorin said. "Especially when you consider the alternative."

I laughed. "Indeed," I said slowly. My tongue was not cooperating very well. "I must agree with you there!" We both laughed again.

"What happens now?" I asked. "I've never come back to life before."

"I should hope not," said Olorin. "Lord Namo is disinclined to keep giving bodies to people who persist in getting themselves killed every hundred years, you know."

"I will try not to break this one then," I answered.

"I'm sure he'll appreciate that," Olorin answered. "As to what happens next, you're going to be staying here for the next week so that you get some peace and quiet in which to become reoriented without all your relations fussing over you, and away from all the politics."

Politics? Which ones? Lorien was in Valinor, so... And I'd been gone. Middle-earth, Beleriand, Nargothrond and after that, a darkness... I had been in Mandos for how long? "What year is it?" I asked.

"Year 533 of the sun."

What year was it when I died? I didn't remember. Not that remembering would make much difference since I knew nothing of events here in Valinor since I left.

"I brought food," said Olorin, opening the picnic basket sitting beside him. "The newly returned are usually hungry, I understand."

I didn't feel hungry until he mentioned it, but once heeded my stomach started complaining loudly. Eating was nice but rather stranger than it should have been. The tastes seemed familiar, but I couldn't name the food until I ate it. I kept dropping things unless I paid close attention to the motions of eating and drinking, and even with care I managed to spill most of my cup of apple juice down the front of my robe, and dropped one particular pastry three times running. The white robe I was wearing was no longer so white.

"Your hroa lacks many of the ingrained motion patterns your fea expects," Olorin explained. "You're probably going to have to relearn how to walk, too."

"Thank you for warning me," I said. "I begin to see why they give us time in Lorien before returning us to the company of other elves."

"Yes, it makes it easier on all concerned."

"Do you help all the newly returned elves?"

"Only some of them. There will be many more returning soon, so they are going to have to expand the number of people helping them. Do you remember why you were let out so early?"

I thought back to the empty great place and my memory of Namo. Those memories were terribly vague. "No," I said.

"You volunteered to teach those who will be fighting Morgoth about Middle Earth's peoples and customs, as well as about how to fight the enemy. You also volunteered to be a lightning rod for unhappy Teleri - to remind them that not all Noldor who went are monsters, and that they are not the only ones who have suffered." Olorin cocked his head at me and smiled. "Bravery aside, this seems like quite a difficult, not to say an unpleasant task. Do you have a special reason to want to come back so badly?"

I thought back. I had many reasons to want to return, including wanting to reconcile with and apologize to my mother and help my father, but... "The main one is named Amarie. You wouldn't happen to know anything about how she is? Lord Namo didn't tell me."

"Amarie," Olorin said. "The young Vanya lady with a taste for metaphysical arguments, songs of power, gardening, and that appallingly noisy invention of Maglor's, the dronepipes?"

I nodded. "There can't be two people matching that description. The rest of it possibly, but not the dronepipes." Olorin remained silent, so I asked "How is she?"

"Do you mean 'is she well?' Or 'has she given up on me and married someone else?'"

"All or any of the above," I answered.

"She is well. She still plays the dronepipes, by the way. It wasn't just a phase, and her parents have finally given up attempting to dissuade her. She still wears a silver ring on her forefinger, which is what I think you were really asking."

I blushed, and looked at the ground. "It is good to know," I admitted.

I stayed in Lorien for the next week. Being alive again was wonderful. There were so many things I had forgotten. The way sunlight breaks into rainbows on insect wings, and turns dewdrops into flashing gems; the way the sky looks as dusk deepens, the sound of a brook or a friendly voice. How it felt to laugh or sing. Simple things, but utterly absent from Mando's grey halls.

I also met Glorfindel, who had come back at the same time I did. I had not seen him since he was a young adult in Nevrast, and he had changed greatly in that time. Hardly surprising, for so had I. We liked each other well, which was fortunate as we would be working together to prepare the elves to fight Morgoth. Warfare. Ah well, I could have chosen to stay in Mandos.

Walking proved quite as difficult as Olorin had suggested it would, but I improved quickly and by the end of the week I could do most basic things without mishap. This was fortunate, as it was time for me to meet my parents and I would rather not be helpless to look after myself in front of them. My mother had been having enough trouble accepting that her children were responsible adults at the time when we left. If she saw me in the state I was when I first arrived, she might never stop mothering me.

I worried over what they would say to me, and I to them. I had not seen my mother since I left her in Tirion. Unlike Finarfin, I did not turn back after Alqualonde. What must she have thought? In some ways, orcs of Morgoth seemed less daunting than facing my mother.

Notes:

For those who wish to know, the dronepipes are better known in our world as the bagpipes. Tolkien said the elves of Valinor had invented all musical instruments. Therefore, elvish bagpipes are canon.

Chapter 4: A Family Reunion

Finally it was time for us to meet Findarato in Lorien. Earwen was overjoyed when I gave her the news that he had Returned. She had initially wished to go to Lorien immediately whether we were supposed to or not, but was stayed by Lord Namo's orders. I was overjoyed too, of course, but also a little worried. Judging from Earendil's words, Middle-earth sounded like a terrible place and I was unsure how he might have changed. Mandos, too, changed people. I had not known anyone closely both before and after they had Returned, but I understood that the changes could be quite profound. Would I know my son?

We followed one of Irmo's Maiar into the gardens down a winding path. Aiwen was with us, as she also had to receive her son. I was not sure where the Maia taking us, and I would have been utterly lost without him. After about an hour we came to the border of yet another small glade filled with flowers. Another maia greeted us there. Aiwen left with her guide to go and find her son, but I hardly noticed. "How is he?" Earwen asked the Maia.

"He is well, I believe. You will find him changed, but not for the worse, I think. He has grown. Why don't you go and meet him?"

Earwen and I exchanged glances and began to walk forward. The Maia stepped out of the path to let us pass, and I saw my son. He was sitting on the grass beside a small pond, fiddling with some Elanor flowers. His face was mostly hidden behind his blond hair. He hadn't seen us.

Earwen ran forward, but I found myself hanging back. Findarato heard Earwen's footsteps and looked up. He dropped the flowers and sprang to his feet. "Mother!? Father!" He cried, looking at once overjoyed and terrified. I started running too. Earwen reached him first, and threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him over. I arrived a few seconds later and embraced both of them soundly. Nothing about the next few minutes is very clear. We laughed, cried, and tried incoherently to speak to one another. Finally we all calmed down enough to step back a little and talk to one another.

Findarato started by apologizing, or tried to. Earwen cut him off. "You can do that later. Right now I am so glad to see you alive I don't care what you have or haven't done! How are you?" She looked critically at him. "You look well enough, but I swear you did not glow like that before." I blinked, and looked at him more critically. He did glow. It was subtle, and less bright than that of the Maiar, but it was definitely there.

"It's an effect of being Returned," Findarato explained. "Olorin tells me that I will be able to turn it off when I want to, but I haven't figured out how to do that yet."

"So long as you are back and in one piece I couldn't care less if you glowed like a lantern!" I said. "You seemed solid enough when I embraced you, but how do you feel?"

"I feel very well. I am still a little disoriented and my hroa and fea sometimes get confused, which makes me clumsy, but it is wonderful to be alive. You forget what it's like, in Mandos' halls." He paused. "It is so good to see you again. I've missed you so much."

"And we've missed you. Don't do that to me again." I said.

"I don't intend to - not that any of us can see all the paths of the future," Findarato said. "How have things been here in Valinor? Olorin told me a little, but I'd rather know what you think."

"At first, very bad," said Earwen. "The darkness after the destruction of the Two Trees darkened all our hearts, and it has taken Yeni to repair the the relationship between the Noldor and the Teleri. Even so, things are not right, and I doubt they ever will be again."

"I doubt things will ever be as they were before the trees died", I said. "But life goes on, and from what Earendil has told me, Middle-earth sounds far worse."

"It was. But that does not make what happened here any easier to endure."

"Too true," Earwen said.

We fell silent. "Let's not let that sully the moment," I said. "Today is for joy. I'm taking the next couple of days off from my official duties. Are you ready to come home?"

"Yes, father, I am," he said.

Together, we walked out of the gardens and rode home to Tirion.

Chapter 5: Tirion and Amarie

It was wonderful and a little overwhelming to be home. It wasn't just my parents; the place was full of people I remembered. Every place I went brought back memories. Sometimes the memories were bit too powerful. I knew I must have looked dazed and disoriented, but my parents' friends did not mention it, even if they smiled entirely too much when I was around.

I was still terribly clumsy. I dropped things, tripped over chairs and my fingers would not obey me when I tried to play the harp. As for my handwriting... well, if you knew what I was trying to say it was almost legible. This rather worried my parents, even when I explained that I had been much worse when I first returned from Mandos and that it would go away with time. My mother in particular seemed reluctant to let me be alone: it was as if she was afraid that I might disappear when her back was turned.

Almost as soon as I had arrived home, I asked my parents about Amarie. They told me that they hadn't been sure what had happened to me in exile, but hadn't wanted to to give Amarie false hopes in case I had married someone else or had simply forgotten her. As if I would ever forget Amarie! Thus she didn't know that I was back yet... Unfortunately, I couldn't just go and walk up to her parent's house and ask to see her. I wasn't quite sure how she or they would take my sudden return from the dead, but I suspected they would prefer a warning.

I sent her a letter. I had asked in that letter if I could come and visit her. I did not expect her to arrive at the palace an hour before midnight in the pouring rain two nights later.

I had been getting ready for bed when I heard a clamor at the door. Curious, I threw a dressing gown over my night clothes and went to investigate. I was at the top of the stairs when I saw her. I started running down... and tripped. I grabbed for the railing, but missed and fell headfirst down the stairs.

I landed on my hands and on my nose. Someone yelled something, but I couldn't make out what. I started to sit up, but my wrist gave way and I fell forward onto the floor again. Strong hands took me and helped me to sit up. Dazed, I looked up to find Thorondil, one of my father's retainers, looking at me with concern. "You are bleeding, lad," he said. He fumbled with his pockets, probably looking for a handkerchief.

"Here, take mine," said a familiar voice, thrusting a hankerchief into my field of vision. "It's a bit wet from the rain but you are bleeding all over your clothes."

"Thank you," I said thickly, took the hankerchief, and pressed it to my nose. I suddenly recognized the voice as Amarie's, and I turned to look at her. "Amarie", I said hesitantly, sounding muffled even to myself.

"Yes," she answered, trying not to smile. "You didn't have to come down the stairs to greet me quite that fast, you know. After nearly four Yeni of separation, five extra seconds is not going to hurt that much. Are you all right? You landed awfully hard."

"I think so," I answered. "My nose doesn't feel like it's broken, but I may have sprained my wrist."

"I've called for a healer, so we will be finding out," Thorondil said.

"That's really not necessary," I said, feeling embarrassed and noticing all the people that were collecting in the area. There were a surprising number of people for this time of night. "I'd know if I was seriously hurt; I have been often enough in Middle-earth to know what it feels like." At that moment, my parents arrived, obviously having been wakened by the noise.

"Ingoldo!" My mother cried. "What have you done to yourself? You are covered in blood! Amarie? You are soaked through, child!"

"I fell down the stairs..." I started saying just as Amarie's said "I only just arrived, it's raining outside, and Findarato fill down the stairs." We looked at each other, Amarie dripping water and me dripping blood, and we both began to laugh.

"Where is the injured person?" said someone I didn't recognize, presumably the healer. "Oh," he said as he saw me. "What happened?"

"I fell down the stairs," I said again. "Despite appearances, I am not seriously hurt. I think I sprained a wrist, but my nose is not broken."

"Let me be the judge of that," the healer said. "I don't think we need an audience, so everyone not immediately involved, please return to your own activities."

"I will find you and your brother dry clothes," my mother said, leading Amarie and her brother away. The crowd dispersed, leaving the healer, Thorondil, my father and myself.

The healer, whose name I found out later was Arandur, stopped the bleeding and told me my left wrist was mildly sprained and that I should bandage and rest it for a few days. He also told me not to run down stairs when the balance between hroa and fea was still uncertain, although I had already discovered that for myself. I was lucky I hadn't broken anything.

Amarie and I saw each other briefly before each heading to our separate rooms. She looked much drier, and I'm sure I looked much more presentable without blood dripping from my nose. I had almost forgotten how beautiful she was. We didn't really say anything of importance, but I left very much reassured that things would turn out well. I found myself feeling humbled. Most people would have given up on me when the Noldor were exiled under the doom of Mandos. She hadn't.

The next morning dawned fair, so I went out in the gardens with Amarie. I found myself at a loss to know what to say. I owed her an apology for leaving her like that. Even with all that happened, though, I am not sure I could have chosen not to leave, or would if I could. I would have left so much undone, even if the vast majority of it was destroyed by Morgoth. But I still hurt her.

"Amarie," I began, "I want to apologize for leaving you. It was cruel, and I should at the very least have had the courage to come in person to explain why."

"Why did you leave like that?" she asked, still looking at the rockery plants in front of her. "I've never understood that. I think I understand why you might have chosen to go, but leaving in that manner was truly cowardly." She turned to look at me. "I might have gone with you if you had asked, you know. I wondered often enough, since, what I would have done if you had asked."

"I was afraid you would. I was afraid you would get hurt or killed, and I didn't want you to face the wrath of the Valar for my sake. I knew you wouldn't want to go. I was also afraid to face your anger, because you would be right."

"If you thought I was right even at that time, why did you go?"

"I couldn't stop Feanaro, nor could I prevent the others from following him. Somebody had to go with them who would organize things, talk to the people already living there and remember other things than revenge. Fingolfin would try to see that some sort of sanity prevailed, but nobody else among the princes was helping him except my father. Then my father returned... "

"Who is Fingolfin?" Amarie asked, looking confused.

"Nolofinwe," I answered. "I'm sorry, I am so used to the Sindarin form of his name that I forget to use the Quenya form. I will probably do that for other names as well. Please correct me if I do that. I need to remember to use Quenya."

"Sindarin? Is that the language the Moriquendi use?"

"The Sindar do not consider themselves Moriquendi. It is the main language in use in Beleriand, which is the part of Middle-earth where we were."

"How many languages do they have, then?"

"The Sindar are not the only people in Beleriand, and most of those peoples have their own language, or at the very least their own dialect..." I found myself speaking with great enthusiasm to Amarie about Middle-earth and the many things that I had seen. She was quite interested, but asked if I was quite sure that the reasons I had given were the only ones for my going to Middle-earth.

I had to admit they weren't. "I really wanted to see the wild lands of Middle-earth. To walk places that had not been walked hundreds of times before and mapped until the unknown is lost. I had been having dreams about Middle-earth, and I had felt it calling me even before the death of the Trees. When Feanaro spoke, that desire overcame my better sense. He is a truly powerful speaker. It is possible to disagree with and defy him, but you will never reject his words without effort, and it is possible to be influenced by them without yourself realizing it. I was not immune, although I thought I was at the time."

"I wondered if you had completely lost your mind and had been so enspelled by Feanaro that you had completely forgotten I existed. I even thought about following after him and trying to rescue you, although" she gave a wry grimace "common sense prevailed when I realized that I would never be able to drag you back by force anyway!"

I had to grin at the mental image of Amarie abducting me out of the armed camp of all my kinsfolk. Not the most practical of plans, no. Not that being abducted by Amarie would have been such a terrible fate...

"What are you smiling about?" Amarie asked suspiciously.

"Just the mental images you conjured up there," I answered, trying to look innocent and probably failing badly.

Amarie gave me a searching look. "And what sort of mental images by those be?" she asked.

"Well, there was you challenging Feanaro to a duel while waving a steak knife, you throwing me over your shoulder and riding off at a gallop, and you telling me in no uncertain terms what a fool I was being while I sat bound and gagged, unable to argue." I shivered then, unwelcome memories of being bound and helpless suddenly coming to mind. No, don't think of the tol-in-Guarhoth. Think of something else, anything else...

"What is the matter?" Amarie asked, looking alarmed. "Are you well?"

"Bad memories," I answered. "The garden looks beautiful after the rain, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does," she said, taking the hint. "I especially like the way Earwen has alternated the Simbelmyne with the dark rocks. The contrast in color and texture works well."

We spoke of gardening and other light topics for a time before returning to the house.

Chapter 6: Love, War, and Philosophy

Over the days that followed, my son was rather distracted, spending most of his time with Amarie. It was amusing to watch them together, and for Earwen and I it brought back memories of when we were young and in love for the first time.

Unfortunately, I had worked I needed to do. The Noldor would be making most of the weapons for the War, and supplies of the correct metals had to be located, delivered to the people who would make the weapons, and the smiths and fletchers paid for their work. We didn't have enough people who knew how to make weapons, and we didn't know what patterns worked best because most of the people who specialized in making weaponry had gone into exile with Feanaro. We also had to learn to fight... which my son and Glorfindel were supposed to be helping us with. However, considering how clumsy Findarato was, I was most loathe to ask him to show anyone how to wield a weapon. I was afraid he would injure himself by mistake, and Glorfindel was probably in the same state as my son. That would have to wait.

In the evenings Findarato and I found time to talk. We sat quietly in my study, and discussed many things. He started teaching me Sindarin, the language spoken by almost everyone in Beleriand. I found it quite strange to think that those of the Noldor who went into exile had given up their language in favor of another. Many of them were so arrogant when they left. I found it impossible to picture someone such as Carnistir speaking another people's tongue to the point where he was known as Caranthir. Yet I knew my son was truthful, so I had to believe him when he said this was so.

We also spoke of the Hildor. I found the idea of a mortal race who lived less than a century to be strange and rather horrifying. Why, for us they would be barely considered out of childhood at the time when they died. "How do they have time to learn anything, or even to perpetuate their own kind?" I asked.

"They mature much faster than we do," he explained. "They consider themselves to be adult when only eighteen years of age - and those are sun years. They sometimes have children with less than two years in age separating them." He smiled softly. "One of my favorite things about visiting my Edain friends is that there were always children around, and usually many of them. Their knowledge is rarely so deep as ours, but they manage very well. They learn quickly, and take joy in their lives."

"Why are they mortal?" I asked. It seemed strange for speaking beings to grow old and die.

"It is apparently Eru's gift to them, although many of them like it not at all. Their fear of it is almost certainly Morgoth's work. They had no Valar come to guide them as we had, and were left with only the Moriquendi and their own resourcefullness, at least until they came to Beleriand and found us. And we Noldor are not fit substitutes for the Valar. It is amazing they have done as well as they have."

"It seems an odd gift," I commented.

"Its purpose has not been fully revealed yet, but the Valar have been forbidden to tamper with it and I have a suspicion that it is of vital importance to the healing of Arda." He twitched as he looked at the expression on my face. "I know that may seem farfetched, but when they die they do not stay within Ea. They leave Ea, and Lord Namo does not know what happens to them after, save that Eru deals with them himself. I asked Lord Namo when I was in Mandos."

"You asked Lord Namo about the fate of humanity while you were waiting in his halls." I was a little startled. If I were in Mandos waiting to be pardoned and released, I doubt I would have the temerity to ask him philosophical questions about the fate of people who were not even elves. I wouldn't want to attract the wrong sort of attention.

"Yes. I wanted to know what had happened to my friends. Lord Namo is surprisingly approachable so long as you are not demanding to know when you will be released or insisting that kinslaying is justifiable."

I finally asked one of the questions that had been bothering me ever since he came back. "What are the Halls of Mandos like - you don't have to answer if you don't want to." I added hastily, seeing him frown.

"Gray," he said. "Vague. You don't have a hroa, so you have no eyes and no ears. The only things distinct in Mandos' halls are the other Fea, and the Valar and Maiar. The Maiar come and teach you sometimes, and in between lessons I spent most of my time thinking. You can communicate with the other Fea mentally, but it is considered impolite to interrupt someone else's thoughts. I don't have many very clear memories of what happened, but I do remember some of the things I learned during that time. It was very gray and very quiet. Hard to describe." He gave me an impudent grin. "I like being alive much better."

"I am glad. I don't want to lose you again. Did you see your brothers while you were there? Do you know when they may be released?"

"Lord Namo does not allow discussion of when a specific Fea will be released unless they are you or your spouse. I did see both of them. Angarato was somewhat irritable."

"Some things never change," I muttered.

0000

After he had been home a week, he started teaching Sindarin to any who wished to learn. This was awkward because there was not room to accommodate everyone. He taught multiple classes per day, but it was not enough. We needed more teachers. Hopefully more of the Returned would be allowed out from Mandos soon. It felt strange being student rather than teacher to my own son, but he proved very good at it once we had both gotten used to the strangeness.

Amarie and her brother continued to stay with us, while letters went back and forth between them and their parents in Valmar. Amarie's brother was obviously bored. He was ostensibly chaperoning Amarie, but he wasn't bothering to act as a chaperone on the grounds that Findarato and Amarie were both adults and could take care of themselves. Findarato came up to me privately and told me that he wished to take a trip to Valmar to speak with Amarie's parents. As for the topic... He and Amarie had decided they had been engaged quite long enough, and that they wish to be married soon: before the war began, since the war would not get started immediately. Oh yes, and did I have any objections if they married at midsummer?

I had no objections, feeling that as their wedding had originally been planned to take place over three Yeni in the past it was rather overdue. The three of them set out for Valmar with a suitable escort while I continued to work out the logistics of weapons creation, supplies and war materials.

Findarato was originally supposed to be home after a week in Valmar, but Ingwe requested his assistance in teaching fighting, since none of his people could provide that information. Therefore, Findarato stayed in Valmar for over a month. It was agreed that he would return with Ingwe when we went to Alqualonde. Fortunately, some of the Returned Sindar came from their settlements beyond Alqualonde to teach us their language. The lessons went on. Meanwhile, Glorfindel started coming to our fighting practices and proceeded to turn them inside out. It was immediately obvious that we had been teaching ourselves things that were often useless or downright counterproductive in the circumstances of an actual war.

There was also a problem with the Teleri. We would need their ships to get to Middle-earth, as none of us wanted to attempt the Exile's feat of crossing over the Helcaraxe. Glorfindel's expression when I suggested it as a possibility... no, not an option worth considering. The Valar had formally asked to borrow their ships, but Olwe had not given an answer, and indeed he said that his people were most troubled and he was unsure he would be able to provide either ships or mariners to crew them. The Valar might ask, but they would not compel them to help where they did not wish to. Any persuasion beyond a simple request would have to come from us.

The Teleri had been moved by the tales of Elwing, Earendil's lady wife and Elwe's great granddaughter, but it was not enough. From Olwe's letters, it sounded like the people were beginning to polarize. Such polarization can be dangerous, as we Noldor found out the hard way. Ingwe and I started planning a visit to speak with them, but it would take some time before that came to fruition. Meanwhile, on went the preparations for war.

Notes:

Information contained in Finrod's conversation with Finarfin can be found in Morgoth's Ring: HoME number 10.

Chapter 7: Negotiations

I dreaded visiting Alqualonde . The last time I saw the city, it was from a distance, just after the kinslaying. The first thing I had noticed was that I had a sick feeling that something terrible was happening. I didn't know what; I just knew that there was something wrong and that my sister was in the middle of it. We pressed forward, and then I smelled the smoke drifting over the hill. I never went nearer than the crest of the hill that day. What I saw from there was enough to give me nightmares to haunt me for the rest of that life and beyond. Beneath a dull ceiling of cloud, embers glowed in the dark and reflected red off the clouds above. The sound of muffled weeping could be heard, but little else. My brother Aikanaro had waited for us and he told us not to go down there. If we went down, we would die. We could do nothing; we came too late. The halls of Mandos may dull the pain of terrible memories, but they do not destroy them.

The city was beautiful today, the white beaches and white buildings shining in the sun. Ships lay at anchor in the harbor, and all signs of the horror that had been before were long gone from sight. From sight, yes, but not from memory, not for me nor from those who lived there.

I followed my parents and Ingwe the High King down into the city. People came out to look at us. I reached out tentatively to read their mood, but what I read was confusing. Some were glad to see us, more were concerned and reserved, and from one I had a sense of black hatred that rivaled that of Feanaro when he spoke of Morgoth. No wonder Olwe had not given the Valar a clear yes. This was likely to be messy. I began to wonder if my presence would really do anything other than harm, and to understand what my father had faced when he returned. The courage that must have taken...

I schooled my expression into something amicable and polite, and rode on.

We reached Olwe's palace around midafternoon. There was to be a formal banquet that evening, so I went to bathe and change into something not soiled by my travels.

Later, I followed my father into the hall. I looked around. It was still beautiful and much as I remembered it from happier times long ago. The abalone, pearl and jet mosaics on the walls still shone, depicting the rising of the Lord of the Waters from the waves, with swans flying overhead and ships in the background. I remembered being here when they were too high for me to reach. Edrahil had picked me up so I could examine them closely.

I was seated at the high table, between my father and one of his great lords. Across from me was Carnear, a Vanyar lord I knew vaguely from my time in Valmar, and Olwe's son Olnar. The banquet was excellent, consisting mainly of the seafood specialties that Alqualonde was well known for. The company was also good, although Olnar was avoiding speaking to me. I did not press him to speak, instead having a long conversation with Carnear about Ellemire's most recent poem. I did notice that Olnar was stealing covert glances at me when he thought I wasn't looking. Perhaps he was uncomfortable in the presence of an Exiled Noldo? He had, after all, been badly wounded by Feanaro's son Tyelkormo in the fighting, as my father had informed me earlier. With regards to that, I had nothing but sympathy for him.

I enjoyed the banquet but guarded my tongue and was careful not to drink much of the very fine wines on offer. The singing after was better because everyone had relaxed and many of the Teleri are marvelous musicians. Many songs in, Carnear asked me to sing. "Sing something from Middle-earth," he requested, passing me the harp.

That was all well and good, but what would be appropriate? Probably something in Sindarin from Doriath - if I were to use a little extra of the minstrel's gift, it would be understandable to all. Perhaps the lay of Denethor's Fall. It was sad, but it would also remind them that the Exiled Noldor were not the only ones in danger from Morgoth.

Carnear passed me the harp, and I began to sing:

In forests dark beneath the stars,
A lord of old was Denethor,
Nought he knew of metal arts,
Till Morgoth came unto the shore.

 

I sang of the coming of Morgoth and of Denethor's aid to Thingol in that time of darkness, of a battle won at too high a cost, and of Denethor's fall.

Surrounded then by hordes of orcs,
Better armed than he by far,
He fell upon the mountain's slopes,
And into darkness fell his star.

In the silence that followed, I bowed my head before passing the harp on to the next person.

"What was that?" someone asked.

"That was the fall of Denethor," a lady with silver hair and silver eyes answered. "He fell in the first battle against Morgoth, before Melian set the girdle around Doriath and before the Noldor arrived. His people are called the Nandor. Denethor's death shattered them, and they took no lord ever after." She turned towards me. "I am honored to meet you, Finrod Felagund, King of Nargothrond-that-was."

"And I you, Lady Elwing," I said, realizing then whom she must be.

The next person began to play, and things returned to normal. I went to bed tired, but well satisfied with what the day had brought.

0000

The negotiations proper began the next day. The atmosphere was tense, but nothing I had not dealt with in Beleriand. As far as I could see, the great lords of the Teleri were divided between those who wished to fight, those who were willing to lend ships and sail them but not to fight, and those who wanted nothing to do with Middle-earth no matter what the Valar said. The middle group was probably the largest, but as ever the two extremes were louder. Nothing was decided that day, and in the evening we devoted ourselves to music and tales. By tacit agreement, nothing was said nor sung of Middle-earth that evening.

The day after was much the same. Some of the arguments grew hotter, and lord Toldil decided to try and irritate me into embarrassing myself. He failed. Hundreds of years of acting as a bridge between Sindar and Noldor in Beleriand gives one a great deal of practice in keeping your temper. He was not nearly so maddening as Caranthir, Saeros, or Elu Thingol in one of his moods.

The negotiations dragged on. The Vanyar and Noldor delegations held a small meeting of our own in which we decided not to ask the Teleri for any help other than the loan of their ships, and aid in building more, for all the ships in Alqualonde would not suffice to carry the entire host. The temper of the Teleri worried me. It seemed dislike was hardening rather than softening as the negotiations dragged on. Nothing I could say helped much. As a formerly Exiled Noldo, I was an object of suspicion, although no one dared say as much to my face or to my father's. I was nervous, and began to find the palace confining. Unfortunately, I did not dare wander around the city without an escort, and an armed escort would only aggravate the situation.

Five days into the negotiations, the situation exploded. It started innocently enough when Olnar asked me what the Valar intended to do about Maitimo and Maccalaure, the surviving sons of Feanaro. I told them I didn't know, and that their fate was up to the Valar.

"Where is the justice for our dead?" he demanded. "I don't see why we should bail them out when no one bailed us out when we were attacked by them. Yes, yes, I know that they are not the only ones there and in danger, but will we not see justice ever? Some of our people have not yet returned from Mandos!"

"I think you need to ask that of Lord Manwe or Lord Namo," I said. "I understand your pain with regards to your relatives in Mandos, but be assured that for them time does not run the same, and lord Namo will not harm them."

"That is easy for you to say. I notice you left awfully fast. What did you do to get left out so soon, you who stood deedless when Feanaro slew your kin and stood by him despite the Valar's condemnation?"

Enough. "I did not stand there and watch, as some of you seem to think. Feanaro did not inform anyone of his plans, and I knew nothing of what was to happen. By the time I got to the crest of the hill, everything was over and I was told that I would be killed on sight if I came down here. And when Arafinwe decided to return to Valinor, someone had to stand for our house in exile and protect the majority of our people who continued on from Feanaro's insanity. As for why I was allowed out of Mandos, it was because I volunteered to try and heal some of the damage that the Noldor have done - and because I died saving someone else's life and have killed no one save servants of the enemy. Frankly, some of your accusations make me wish I'd stayed in Mandos and let somebody else take on this extremely unpleasant task!"

"I don't believe you - kinslayer by inaction," lord Toldil said.

"Your accusations are unfounded," my father said. "My son was with me the entire time and neither of us knew what Feanaro was doing, nor imagined in our darkest dreams that he might stoop to the murder of kin."

"Of course you say that to protect your son," lord Toldil said, tossing his head angrily. "But I don't see why he - "

"This is not relevant to the conversation," interrupted Olwe. "We were discussing training Vanyar and Noldor to build and sail ships."

Discussion of the appointed subject resumed. Toldil fell silent, but gave me contemptuous looks from where he was sitting. Worse, his wasn't the only mind giving off feelings of suspicion and hatred towards me. I sat where I was feeling somewhere between humiliated, furious, and deeply saddened. How dared he... yet it was not surprising. It was hardly the first time that someone assumed that because I did not turn back after Alqualonde, I condoned Feanaro's actions there. Morgoth might be in Middle-earth, but the lies and hatred he fathered bred quite well without him. I had hoped that Valinor might have healed, but it had not. All Arda was marred.

I spoke politely to the others as the meeting broke up, but avoided my father. My head hurt from the strength of my emotions, and I felt a need to be alone and to be outside for a time. I walked out the garden door into the palace gardens. I walked quickly, paying little attention to where I went. Eventually I found myself at the far gate. I turned back, walking more slowly as my anger began to cool. I stopped by a little fountain, and sat down on the bench beside it. I rested my chin on my folded arms, staring at the fountain while my mind was elsewhere.

There had to be a better way to handle these accusations. They were going to come up again. Deny them too strenuously and they looked as if they were true, ignore them completely and they also looked as if they were true. It was finding the balance that was the hard part. I thought back to my days in Middle-earth handling the difficult task of remaining on speaking terms with both Elu Thingol and the Feanorians.

I heard the crunching sound of someone walking down the gravel path ahead of me. I ignored it, but then they walked right up to me. I looked up. It was a Telerin mariner, to judge by his clothes. He was radiating anger and nervousness. Oh joy. Just what I didn't need right then. "Are you the Noldor prince?" he asked.

"I am," I said. I sensed danger from behind me and whirled, automatically reaching for my sword. It wasn't there. I suddenly realized that I had better not injure anyone or I would merely prove everyone's suspicions about the Noldor tendency to violence. I hesitated, and the Telerin mariner grabbed me. Someone else hit me, and I passed out.

Chapter 8: The Problem With Kidnapping Noldo Princes Part 1

Tolion the Telerin mariner looked down at the limp form in his arms, and then back up at his sister Niphredil. "Well, now what do we do with him?" he asked.

"Take him to my cottage," Niphredil said. "They won't dare take our ships when we have their prince. Use the wheelbarrow to move him; it will be easier than carrying him. Wait here." She walked off to find a wheelbarrow.

Tolion was left holding the unconscious prince and feeling much more sober than he had five minutes ago. He lowered the prince gently to the ground, hoping fervently that no one came along before Niphredil got back. He did NOT want to have to try and explain this. Tolion checked breath and pulse, not wanting to find himself with a dead Noldor prince on his hands. Both were steady, but the prince remained unconscious. Where was Niphredil?

At that moment Niphredil came around the curve in the path, pushing a wheelbarrow with a cloak sitting in it. "Put him in the wheelbarrow," she said. Tolion did so, and she spread the cloak over the prince, hiding him from casual view. Tolion belatedly spotted the circlet that had fallen from the prince's head, and tucked that into the wheelbarrow beside the prince. Niphredil then trundled the wheelbarrow over to the cottage which was hers as a priviledge of her position as one of the palace gardeners. Tolion came with her, and together they went into the cottage. They dumped the prince on the bed in the guest room. There they ran into their second problem: the room had no lock, and the prince twitched, clearly starting to come round.

"You'll have to tie him up or drug him," Tolion said. "He's probably got all sorts of experience killing other incarnates, and you wouldn't win in a fair fight."

She nodded. "I have cord in the shed; I'll get it. Do you know how to tie him up so he won't get loose?"

"I can make a good guess at it."

Niphredil gave Tolion a long look. "It had better be a good guess." She left the room, and Tolion could hear her rummaging about in the shed.

Tolion turned his attention to their prisoner. He was not what Tolion had been expecting. When he thought of the Exiled Noldor, he automatically pictured someone tall, with black hair, mid-grey eyes, clad in metal armour and carrying a sword. That didn't describe the prince at all. He was of about average height for a Telerin Elda, had golden hair, and carried neither armour nor sword. His eyes, Tolion had seen earlier, were a pale silver gray very common among the Teleri. Only the hawk-like features and the heraldic designs on his tunic identified him as Noldor. He looked rather like King Arafinwe. Still, looks often belied the personality. He was probably far more dangerous than he looked right now. Tolion was glad when Niphredil came back carrying the rope.

With a good deal of trial and error, muttered cursing and wasted cord they bound, gagged and blindfolded the prince. He was definitely starting to come round now, moaning and trying to pull away from their hands and the cord. Finally, they finished. It was not a neat job, but it was thorough.

The prince threw up, and began to choke. Hurriedly, they undid the gag, but it took nearly a minute for him to stop gasping and start breathing normally. Niphredil looked at the bed in disgust. "I only put clean covers on the bed yesterday," she complained.

Tolion looked down at himself, then across at Niphredil. "We're both going to have to change," he said. "Why did he throw up?"

"Maybe something to do with the knock on the head. We had better not gag him again," she said. "Go and change, and bring a wet rag back with you, please. You can borrow one of my spare tunics."

Tolion left and changed, then came back with the rag, which Niphredil put to good use cleaning up the mess. "I've been thinking," Niphredil said. "We need to talk outside his hearing."

They left the room and the went into the living room. "This was your idea," Tolion said. "What do we do now?"

"I will put the message in the palace mail slot tomorrow morning before anyone is about," she said. "That part is easy. What I'm worried about is that he may get out of his bonds. Neither of us really knew what we were doing when we tied him up. We need to sedate him, and that will take something stronger than chamomile tea. I want you to go visit the apothecary and get some strong sleeping draughts."

"Why me?"

"If they come and look for him in your ship, he won't be there. We need to keep them away from here."

"I'm not sure I like this," Tolion said. "If he has a concussion, I know sleeping draughts are not recommended first aid. I don't like the Noldor, exiled or not, but I don't want to become a kinslayer by mistake."

"You won't. And it isn't like he deserves to be out of Mandos yet anyway."

"Deserves has nothing to do with it," said Tolion. "I don't want to find myself in the Ring of Doom explaining to the Valar why this Noldo prince is dead. But I will go and get the sleeping drafts." Tolion turned, and left in search of an apothecary.

Notes:

The use of kidnapping as a plot element in this story was inspired by Fiondil's Elf, Interrupted, which I started reading partway through writing this. The political situation with the Teleri and the resentment over the kinslaying is based on the Silmarillion and my own ideas.

Chapter 9: How to Upset Every Elven King in Valinor

I was talking to Earwen when I felt something go wrong. She felt it too; she stopped talking and went rather pale. I tried to place what was wrong, then somehow I knew. "Something has happened to Findarato!" I cried. I grabbed her hand, "We need to find him. Earwen, can you see where he is? I think he's hurt." She closed her eyes, and I did likewise, trying to pull as much information as possible from that sudden knowledge. I tried mindspeaking him, but received no response.

"I can't see," said Earwen. "I think he was outside somewhere. I wonder what can have happened?"

"Perhaps he tried to climb a tree and fell, or was running and tripped. The gardens, perhaps?" I said.

"That's probably the best place to start," Earwen agreed. We headed for the garden gate at a near run, accompanied by as many of our household as we could find in the immediate vicinity. The guard's eyes widened when he saw us. "What is the matter, Sire?" He asked. "Can I help you?"

"Have you seen prince Findarato?" I demanded. "He's outside somewhere and hurt."

"He went into the gardens half an hour ago, and he has not come back yet," the guard replied, frowning.

I started out into the gardens, but Earwen held me back. "I think more people searching would be a good idea," she said. She called to one of the servants, asking him to get some of the guards. Not that they were anything other than ceremonial, but they could still help us search. Then she came back, and we went out to look for our son.

We split up into groups, Earwen with one and me with the other. My group began by looking in the areas nearest the palace. Soon others came out. One of them was King Ingwe, with five of his household. "Your son is hurt?" he asked, frowning.

"Yes," I said shortly. "And I can't find him! He went into the gardens half an hour ago, but I have not been able to find him anywhere." We continued searching.

We searched the entire gardens, but he was not there. Night fell, and he was still nowhere to be found. It was completely dark when King Olwe came up to me, holding a lantern in one hand and looking tired. "Between us we have searched the entire gardens multiple times," he said. "He is not here. How badly is he hurt? Can you tell?"

"Not really," I said. "He is alive - I can sense him, I have tried to mindspeak him, but I haven't gotten anything coherent. What I do get is pain and fear. That could just be because I'm too upset, I don't know."

"He may have made his way back to the palace," said Olwe. "Or he may have gone off somewhere to nurse his injuries without people staring at him. Are you sure his pride isn't hurt more than his hroa? Some of the things people were saying earlier were nasty, and I know he was upset."

"I know the difference between emotional upset and physical injury. He has been really clumsy since he came back from Mandos. I think he had an accident - but if that is the case why isn't he here?"

"We won't find him by stumbling around in the dark in an area we have already searched," Olwe told me firmly. "I am going back to the palace, and I will send out people to search the surrounding area in case he left the gardens other than by one of the gates. You are overwrought, and I think you should come back with me. When he is found, we will let you know immediately."

"I will come," I said. "But he really is hurt, otherwise he would have heard and answered by now. His mindspeech is stronger than mine. He should have heard me by now. And I think he's afraid. I don't think he left by himself. He is afraid of someone."

"What are you saying?" Olwe asked, frowning. "You are not accusing any of my people of harming him, are you? None of us would do that!"

I rubbed my forehead, hoping to ease my growing headache. "I'm not accusing anyone of anything," I said. "I just want my son back in one piece. I've lost him once already..."

Olwe's expression softened and he put his arm around my shoulder. "Forget what you I said. You aren't the only one who's overwrought with today's events. Let's go back, and I will put in place those other measures I promised." Together, we went back to the palace.

Neither Earwen nor I slept that night, and still there was no word of our son.

0000

Word came in the morning, in the form of a letter. A letter addressed to me. The words read:

To Arafinwe, High King of the Noldor, greetings.

We have your son, Prince Findarato Ingoldo of the Noldor. He is unharmed, nor do we wish to harm him. However, we are most displeased by your demand that we give our ships and our mariners to rescue those who slew our kin. Nor do we trust in your good faith. Renounce all claim upon our ships and leave our city. High King Ingwe may stay if he wishes, but he must also renounce any and all claims on our ships and our lives. Then, and only then, will we return your son.

The People of Alqualonde

In the envelope with the letter was a lock of Findarato's hair.

Wordlessly, I passed the letter to Ingwe, holding Findarato's hair clutched in my hand. Beside me, Earwen had also read the letter's contents and sat there white and shaking. But not with fear. With fury.

"How dare they!," she said, eyes blazing. "How dare they presume to speak for all the people of Alqualonde, thereby turning all of us into kidnappers by association, using our concern for my son to force us to continue this endless cycle of hate!"

Everyone stared at her. Earwen is normally a fairly quiet soul, but when she is angry, beware.

"They will not succeed." She suddenly noticed that everyone was staring at her, and met their gaze defiantly, if somewhat red-faced.

"I think we'd better have that letter read out," Lord Carnear commented from across the table.

Ingwe read out the letter. Olwe groaned, and buried his face in his hands. "Of all the idiotic, shameful things to do..." He turned to me. "Arafinwe, I apologize for what I said last night. Apparently some of my people would do that."

"Never mind who said what. What are we going to do about it, Father?" said Earwen. "We cannot give in to them, not with the Sindar, the Exiled Noldor, and the Hildor depending on our help, but," and here she wavered a second, "I do not trust them not to harm my son."

Elwing sighed. "They have the wrong elf, too. The most Finrod ever did was remain silent for fear of inspiring more strife."

"Certainly we cannot let them get away with this outrage," said Ingwe. "The real question is how do we find and rescue him." Nods all round. He turned to me. "Arafinwe, Earwen, what can you sense from your son? That lock of hair should give you a link to him."

"I cannot sense anything clear," I said. "Either he is too far away, or he is unable to answer. I was getting an impression of fear and pain earlier, but I am not sensing anything much it all at the moment, even through the hair. He's either asleep, unconscious, or very distant in space." I passed the lock of hair to Earwen. She frowned thoughtfully.

"He is not far away," said Earwen. "He is definitely within Alqualonde, and probably in the old segment of the city. He is indoors, in a room, lying on a bed. I can't see it clearly, but..." She opened her eyes in angry shock. "They have bound him with cords, and he's blindfolded. He's very still. I think he was injured when they took him."

"Do you think they hurt him?" asked Olwe, looking sick.

I traded a look with Earwen. We both nodded.

"So he's in Alqualonde, and probably the nearer half of it, but he will not be able to help with his own rescue," Ingwe commented. "Olwe, this is your city. Why don't you send search parties throughout the city to look for him, and ask your citizens if they have seen anything amiss?"

"I will," said Olwe. "He is my grandson also, you know. I merely did not want to believe my people capable of such a thing."

"It could be worse Olwe," I reminded him. "At least your people have never defied the Valar and murdered those who stood in their path."

"True," replied Olwe. "But if I want that to stay true, I had better go and organize the search parties." He got up and left the room.

Olwe sent out search parties throughout the city, while Earwen and I concentrated on trying to pick up more information using our bond of blood with Findarato, and the lock of hair the kidnapper had so foolishly provided.

Chapter 10: The Problem with Kidnapping Noldo Princes Part 3

The nightmares were the worst part. At first, I thought I was back in the tol-in-Guarhoth. Distorted images, the sound of a werewolf snarling, pain and darkness. But as I woke further, I began to notice things that did not make sense. The surface on which I lay was soft, and I was not cold. My bonds were cord and did not burn me. My pain was less severe, mostly consisting of a bad headache, plus some caused by how I had been bound. I was blindfolded, which was wrong, and I wasn't naked. Most of all, since when do orcs and werewolves speak Telerin Quenya? This was definitely not the tol-in-Guarhoth.

Shortly after that, I felt my father's presence in my mind. Together, we managed to figure out some of what was going on. That was when the lady guarding me arrived. My father listened in the back of my mind while I spoke. I asked her who she was and why she had kidnapped me.

"I'm hardly going to tell you that," she said. "I have food here for you."

"My hands are tied," I told her. "I can't reach the food."

"I know, and I don't trust you enough to untie your hands. Open your mouth and I'll feed you." She fed me and gave me something to drink. From the bitter taste, it was probably drugged. I contrived to spill most of it, much to her annoyance. I could feel my father fuming at the way I was being treated, but I did not care. Finding that I was not in the tol-in-Guarhoth was such a relief that it was hard to be either afraid or humiliated. It could be so much worse...

"I never realized having a prisoner would be so much like having an oversized baby," my captor complained.

"If you don't like it, you can always let me go," I said.

"Not likely," she replied. "You're all we have to prevent them taking the ships."

"Nobody is going to take your ships," I replied. "My father and Ingwe the High King are in negotiations to organize the loan of the ships. They will never take them by force."

"We trusted Feanaro to show civilized behavior once. Look what happened. And why should I care what you think, kinslayer?"

"I am no kinslayer. Do you honestly think that Lord Namo would have let me out of Mandos this soon if I were?"

"How should I know? The Valar helped us not at all when Feanaro slew my brother. Why should they balk at freeing a kinslayer unjustly soon? They always act as if we Teleri are not good enough for them because we prefer our own lives and the sea to sitting at their feet praising their every move like the Vanyar, or begging for whatever scraps of knowledge they choose to throw our way, like the Noldor. One of my brothers is still in Mandos, and he was murdered, Noldo, he never even knew what was going on. They have no justice for us and never did."

How did I begin to reply to that? "The Valar are not perfect, but they are wiser and more just than you are giving them credit for. While I was in Mandos, I asked one of the Maiar about the kinslaying, and he told me that the Valar did not know that it would happen and were taken by surprise while they were trying to deal with Morgoth and the death of the Trees. As for them preferring the Noldor, you have no understanding of what happened to us in Exile. There are much worse things than death..."

"Nothing is bad enough for what you did!" Receding footsteps and a slamming door told me that she had stormed out of the room. I wriggled a little, trying to find a more comfortable position within my bonds. No such luck. I was getting really tired. That drink must have been drugged.

Did you get any useful information? I asked my father.

She has a brother who was kinslain, and who is still in Mandos. That may narrow things a little, he thought back. And your mother got an image of her, and of the room. Now if we could just figure out where... Findarato, what is the matter, you're fading out!

My head hurts and I think that drink was drugged. I managed to spill most of it so I will probably wake up sooner than last time. Good night, Dad. I tried to send my father reassuring feelings, but what I felt from his end didn't seem reassured. I slept again.

When next I woke, I was alone and my headache was much diminished. After a moment of complete panic, I remembered where I was. I could not hear my father, so perhaps he had fallen asleep. I began to think of ways to get out. I tested my bonds, but they were thorough. However, I had broken worse bonds before. All it would take in this case would be a little weakening of one of the strands that bound my hands. She had not thought to gag me. I began to sing very quietly, concentrating my power on one particularly tight strand. It snapped, and I began to twist and rub my hands together. The long length of cord loosened and slid off. I pulled off my blindfold, and grabbed at the cords on my legs. The light was so bright! I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on the cords. They did not give, so I started singing to a specific strand there. It snapped, and I kicked my way free.

My head was aching again in earnest now but I ignored it. I slid my legs off the bed, tried to stand and fell to the floor with a thump. I heard footsteps and saw the doorknob begin to turn, and I turned and grabbed the nearest thing to hand - the tray she had bought my food in on. The door opened and my captor and I stared at each other. She was holding a frying pan.

I tried again to stand, and this time I made it. She squeaked, but brandished the frying pan threateningly. "Put that down," she said.

"Do not attempt to harm me," I said. "I am war trained, you are not."

She lunged at me with the frying pan. I sidestepped, catching myself against the wall, and slammed the breakfast tray onto her head and shoulder, knocking her down. I stumbled out the door, throwing it closed behind me. I weaved down the short hall, looking for the exit of the house. Over there... Behind me I could hear my former captor thrashing around and opening the door behind me. Then I reached the front door, where I struggled for a moment as I realized it was locked, then undid the latch, and I was free! Dimly, I realized I could hear my father in my mind, but I had no time to think of that. I ran down the path, intent only on getting as far as possible away from the house and finding innocent witnesses so that I could not be dragged back.

I kept stumbling and fell twice, for my legs were numb and my headache had returned in force, almost blinding me and getting ever worse. Each time I got up again and went on. I had no idea where I was or where I was going, and it was to my great surprise when someone called out to me "Are you all right, friend? You look to have had more to drink than is good for you." I looked up and saw a couple with a young child. Safety? My knees buckled under me, and I fell again. I sat up, craning my head to look up at them. "Help," I said. "Don't let her hit me again. Where am I?"

"You are in the palace gardens," he answered. "Don't let who hit you? Who are you?"

"It's the missing Noldor prince," the lady said. "They've been looking for him everywhere!"

"I'll stay with him," her husband said. "You go with Eardil and get the gate guard." I sat there on the ground, with the unknown elf standing protectively over me. My former captor did not reappear. "Do you need first aid?" he asked.

I shook my head, then winced. "Drugged, headache, I'll be fine. Just don't let her hit me with a frying pan."

"I won't let anyone hit you with a frying pan," the elf said. "Or any other kitchen implement."

His family arrived with the gate guard, who helped me to stand and then started to walk with me back to the palace. Before we had gotten more than fifty feet, my parents arrived along with many other people. I was safe.

Chapter 11: Aftermath

When I saw my son, my heart almost gave out. He was muddy, his clothes were torn, there was blood on his hands and knees, and he was leaning heavily on the guard as if weak or seriously disoriented. I hugged him close, noticing as I did so that he smelled foul. I didn't care. He was unsteady on his feet, so I supported him carefully. I was furious. How dared anyone treat my son like this?

Earwen told the the guards to search all the houses within a five minute run since he could not have come very far. They were to look for a woman with dark hair tied back in a single braid, wearing a dark green tunic and gray trousers with patches at the knees, possibly carrying a frying pan. The picture of her was still very vivid in his mind so Earwen and I had no trouble picking it up.

The guard spread out to search, while Earwen and I took our son back to the palace. It was slow going, but he was too big to carry.

Finally, we reached the palace where we found both Olwe and Ingwe waiting for us. Ingwe looked appalled, while Olwe looked rather pale. We ignored them both, and took him into the suite where the Noldor delegation was staying. Earwen called for a healer while I helped him to a couch where he could lie down. "Why the terrible headache?" I asked.

"Concussion, drugs, songs of power," he replied.

"There's a healer coming, so just lie still," said Earwen. "You don't have to do anything."

He asked for water so I went and got him some, which he drank. We waited, and the healer came. He examined Findarato, then sang him into sleep and washed the cuts on hands, knees and elbows. He assured me that Findarato would be fine, but that he should rest a good deal over the next few days and on no account was he to use songs of power in any way. If the headaches persisted, mild pain killers or sleep song were acceptable, but if they became as bad as they were today, or if they persisted for over a week he was to see a healer. The healer left, and Earwen and I looked at each other.

"I'll stay with him," Earwen said. "You should probably go talk to Olwe and Ingwe and let them know how Findarato is." I nodded, and went to find Olwe and Ingwe.

They were both standing outside the door to the suite. "How is he?" Ingwe asked.

"The guards just came back," Olwe added. "They escorted a women who matches the description Earwen gave them. They are certain it was her because they searched the dwelling. In it they found broken cord and a silver circlet."

"You have caught her. Good. Findarato is asleep. He has a concussion, cuts, bruises, and is suffering from the aftermath of been drugged and using songs of power to escape. He needs to rest and will probably have headaches frequently for the next week or so, but he should make a complete recovery, no thanks to his assailant."

They both relaxed visibly. "He looked in terrible shape when you brought him in."

"He was and he is," I answered. "You two are going to have to run the trial; I am far too angry to judge fairly."

"You'd be a witness anyway," Ingwe replied, "given your link to your son."

I nodded. "That makes sense. What have the guards done with her?"

"She is in the palace under guard," said Olwe. "We have asked her no questions as yet."

"I think that should be done in public so that her guilt can be seen by all and we don't get any rumors," Ingwe added. "We're going to need Findarato to be there, so it will have to wait until he is well enough to attend."

"While we're doing that, I would like to see an end to the unjustified taunting and accusations I saw during the negotiations," I said. "I want it made obvious that it was not his fault that somebody else decided to kidnap him."

"Nobody has accused him of causing his own kidnapping," Olwe said.

"Oh, somebody will if they haven't done so already," I answered.

"Actually, I have heard rumors to exactly that effect," said Ingwe. "It is not logical, but people do not want to blame their own. As the first Returned Exile these people have seen, Findarato is far too easy a target."

"I thought Returning early was supposed to be a reward," Olwe said. "This seems almost more like a punishment. What did he do to be Returned so early, anyway?"

"Apparently, he volunteered," I answered. "I haven't dared ask him some of the details about his life in Middle-earth. I know he died horribly and I don't want stir the memories. Lord Namo did tell me that I should be proud of him, that he died to save another and strove to do good in the time that he had. He has told me about some of the things that he did there. It sounds like he spent an inordinate amount of his time trying to prevent the Sindar and the Noldor from fighting each other instead of Morgoth, teaching the Hildor and generally try to calm people down."

"That sounds awfully familiar," Ingwe said with a slight smile. "I wonder where he learned that."

Olwe laughed. "So he leaves home and parents behind him in rebellion, and then proceeds to act like his father in the land of his exile. How very ironic."

I blushed. "Not exactly like me if I had continued," I said. "I can't imagine getting into some of the situations he described. Walking alone into the camp of an entirely unknown people... I am shy enough dealing with my own."

"I wasn't saying that he was was the same as you, but that he seems to have acquired some of your better qualities," Olwe said. "Not a position I envy, thinking about some of the Noldor he left with."

"Nor I," I answered.

0000

I did some organization for the coming trial and the currently sidelined negotiations with Ingwe and Olwe, and then I went to bed. Findarato had not woken, and Earwen told me that she intended to sit up and keep an eye on him. "Not that I do not trust the healer, but I worry so it isn't as if I'll be able to sleep anyway."

Chapter 12: Old Injuries

I did some organization for the coming trial and the currently sidelined negotiations with Ingwe and Olwe, and then I went to bed. Findarato had not woken, and Earwen told me that she intended to sit up and keep an eye on him. "Not that I do not trust the healer, but I worry so it isn't as if I'll be able to sleep anyway," was how she explained her decision.

It was at some time in the middle of the night when I was woken by an unearthly shriek. I sat bolt upright in bed and reached for the lantern.

"Ingoldo, wake up. It's me, Earwen, your Mother! Don't!" I heard Earwen say, followed immediately by a crash.

In my haste I overturned the lantern, knocking the cover off and shining light everywhere. I heard a voice begin to chant:

"Yet courage and faith may secrets keep, in the face of horror's power,

love lead into places dark, breaking the chains of thy dark tower..."

Fortunately, Feanorian lanterns are almost impossible to break. I grabbed it by the handle as I ran for the living room.

Earwen was sitting on the floor holding her head, while Findarato stood with his arms spread wide in front of the couch staring raptly at something I could not see. He shone with golden light. He began to chant again, and suddenly I could not see him past the pictures his words painted. I looked aside to see Earwen but I could not see anything save the word's visions, neither Earwen nor the door behind me through which I had come. For a moment I panicked, and turned and tried to run for the door I could not see. But I could not leave Earwen there alone. I turned back. He's fighting something evil; he won't be expecting good. Maybe I can reach him... Gathering my wits, I began to sing, putting everything I had into it:

You need not fight for you are safe,

Your chains no more your wrists may chafe,

Come back to me, my son,

Your victory has long since been won.

He continued chanting, and with yet greater strength better directed towards me. My mind began to blank, and I feared I might faint. And still he continued:

"But death itself is not an end, though Mandos halls do lie ahead,

And outside time there is the One..." He faltered and stopped. I could see him again. He saw me, I know, for he smiled at me before falling forward onto his hands and knees. I started to go to him, but then remembered Earwen. I turned to see her getting shakily to her feet. "Go to him," she said. "I'm fine."

I went to Findarato and knelt down beside him. I touched him gingerly on the shoulder. He was shivering violently but he did not push me away. Instead, he sat up fully. His eyes were still wild and unfocused, and I hastened to reassure him. "It is me, Arafinwe, your father," I said. "You are safe here and no one will hurt you." I put my arms around him and he relaxed slightly and leaned his head on my shoulder. I found myself smiling grimly. "Anyone who wants to will have to get through me first. And your mother, and Ingwe, and Olwe and many other people."

Behind me I could hear people whispering at the door. I turned to look. It appeared that every member of the Noldor delegation was standing in the doorway in varying states of night clothes. Earwen was trying to quiet them and shepherd them out the doorway. Unfortunately, more people were arriving behind them, and there was a good deal of confusion. I recognized Ingwe's voice. Ingwe was a mind healer. Now he might actually be useful... "Ingwe," I said, "I could use your help. Everyone else; we don't need an audience."

Ingwe managed to make his way through the press to my side while Earwen worked to get the crowd to disperse. He caught Olwe's arm and pulled him with him. "I think you need to see this, Olwe," he said. "You don't have to do anything but watch." Ingwe turned to me "What happened?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "Findarato, can you tell us what happened?"

"It looked like an nightmare," Earwen said, having finally managed to persuade curious onlookers to leave.

"There was," Findarato began, and stopped. I could feel his terror and a deep seated loathing. I caught glimpses of a large stone room with a vaulted ceiling and a darkly armored form that radiated cold.

"You don't have to talk now, if the horror is still too strong," Ingwe said. "However, if you can speak of it you will be nearer to conquering it."

"Gorthaur," Findarato whispered. "I was back there, but I could not get to Beren, and the wolves..." He trailed off, while inside my mind I saw images that I did not understand, save that they reeked of evil and terrified my son. He was clinging to me so hard that I felt sure I would have bruises tomorrow. He was in pain, too. That infernal headache of his had come back. I suppose attempting to fight evil beings with songs of power counts as using magic. Even if the evil beings aren't actually there...

"He can't hurt you here," I told him firmly. "The Valar would not allow it and he would not dare come here."

Ingwe agreed. "Your father is right. It is the memory of past evil, with no power to harm other than that which you yourself give it. But enough of that. Are you hungry? You have not eaten since early yesterday if what Arafinwe told me is correct."

He shook his head, then winced. He did not speak.

"The healer said he must not use his magical abilities," I told Ingwe. "He just did so rather spectacularly. Can you tell if he's harmed himself?"

Ingwe gently laid his hand on Findarato's forehead and looked into his eyes. Findarato shivered and looked away. Ingwe's expression of concern deepened. "There is nothing to fear, child. I would never harm you." Despite his words he removed his hand and turned to me. "Arafinwe, could you sing him to sleep? It is the best thing for him at the moment and he does not trust me as he does you."

"The tree shepherd's song?" I asked Earwen. She nodded, and we started singing. Findarato's eyes gradually closed and he sagged in my arms, asleep again. I adjusted his position slightly so that he would be more comfortable and turned to Ingwe.

"I do not like this at all," Ingwe said. "His recent kidnapping has clearly reawakened the trauma he received in Middle-earth. I'm astonished the Valar sent him back like this - none of those Returned from Cuvienen were in such a state when I saw them again." He frowned. "How long did you say he was in Mandos?"

"I don't know precisely," I said. "I think it was under one hundred years. Lord Namo said that he had volunteered to return."

"Very short time span. I do not understand what they were thinking, although they must have had a good reason. What happened before I arrived?"

Earwen answered. "He was thrashing around in his sleep. I tried to wake him, but he was still in the grip of the nightmare and did not know where he was. He didn't know who I was either, and he screamed horribly and knocked me down. Then he started singing something about blood darkened towers and breaking chains and he was putting so much power into it I could not see where I was."

I broke in. "He was still doing it when I came into the room. I have never seen so much power wielded by anything short of a maia before. The few times I actually saw him through the song he was flaming with golden light. I didn't know what to do, so I tried singing to him. He heard me and stopped, at which point he collapsed. I went over to him and tried to calm him down. I think that is when the rest of you arrived."

Ingwe pulled out a small golden whistle that hung from a chain around his neck, and regarded it thoughtfully. I recognized it - I had one like it, although I had left mine in the dressing table. The Valar had given each of us one after Alqualonde in case we needed to summon emergency help. I had never needed to use it.

"I am going to request assistance," Ingwe said. "He needs to go back to Lorien and stay there until he has dealt with these memories, and I don't fancy sending him there with only Eldar for company. He is a danger to himself and others in this state and someone would likely get hurt." He blew the whistle. It made no sound that I could hear with my ears, but I sensed it nevertheless.

Nothing happened for 20 seconds. Then there was a shimmer in midair and Eonwe appeared. "What is the problem?" he asked, then looked at Findarato and frowned.

"I apologize for disturbing you," Ingwe said, "but Findarato's recent kidnapping seems to have reawakened severe trauma received in Middle-earth. I deem that he needs to receive care in Lorien. Unfortunately, he has shown himself to be a danger to both himself and others and I fear someone will be injured if any of our people attempt to accompany him to Lorien."

Eonwe nodded. "I can take him there. You have other questions you wish to ask."

He was looking at Ingwe, but it was Olwe who answered. "He is obviously not healed. Why did the Valar return him so soon? I was told that they did not return people until they were ready, and that that was why some of my people were still in Mandos and some might never return."

Eonwe hesitated. "I am afraid I do not know the full details. You would need to go to lord Namo for those. I know that it was hoped that he would be a spokesperson for the Exiled Noldor. He also wished to return, so it was decided to release him. However, it seems to have been rather harder on him than was anticipated or hoped."

"I am coming with him to Lorien, by your leave, my lord," Earwen said. "I do not think he should be alone among strangers at this time - and Arafinwe must stay here for the negotiations," she said, shooting me a hard glare as I opened my mouth to insist on coming to Lorien as well.

"That would probably be wise," Eonwe said, "although he will not be entirely among strangers. Olorin will be there and it was he who looked after Findarato when he had newly come from Mandos. I should probably take you first and come back for Findarato. I can only take one person at a time," he said apologetically. He extended his hand to Earwen, who took it. They both vanished.

The rest of us looked uneasily at each other and waited for Eonwe's return. Eonwe returned in a couple of minutes and took Findarato from me. "Olorin is waiting for him there and he will be well looked after," Eonwe informed me. "Before I go, do you wish to handle the trial yourselves, or would you rather hand her to the Valar for judgement? Lord Manwe tells me that lord Namo is very displeased with her behavior."

We traded glances, and Ingwe spoke for us. "I believe we can handle her ourselves, but any of the Valar who wish to be present and offer suggestions or advice are most welcome to attend. However, the trial will not occur until Findarato is able to attend because we need his testimony."

"You may have to wait some time."

"We can wait." I said. "We're not Hildor who die of old age. We can wait."

"In that case I will leave you," Eonwe said and vanished.

We stood silent for some moments each lost in his own thoughts. Olwe broke the tension. "This Gorthaur is one of Morgoth's Umaiar, I believe?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered. "Gorthaur is his chief lieutenant."

"Morgoth has many people prisoner at the present time, doesn't he." Olwe asked, his mouth in a thin line. It wasn't really a question; he had been told the answer multiple times before.

I nodded.

"You will get your ships," Olwe said. "You will get them if I have to build every last one myself, I swear it." He walked away and out of sight.

Notes:

... and this where I got to back in 2008. I'm not planning on extending it further, but I wanted to make sure that what I had written was available to people on AO3.

Notes:

Glossary of Quenya names of characters usually known by Sindarized forms:

Arafinwe = Finarfin

Lalwende/Irime = Lalwen (one of Finarfin's two sisters. A late invention of Tolkien, she journeyed to Middle Earth but her fate is not mentioned.)

Findarato = Finrod

Arothir = Orodreth

Aikanaro = Aegnor

Angarato = Angrod

Nolofinwe = Fingolfin

Feanaro = Feanor

Elwe = Elu Thingol

Umbarto = Amras

Aikanaro = Aegnor

Angarato = Angrod

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of A Different Kind of Victory