17: An Elleth Scorned

Amarië had had it!

Bad enough, she thought, as she stormed out of the dining room, that Findaráto practically ignored her, but now to find out that that...Sinda was going to become his diplomatic aide? That was too much. How could Findaráto even consider a... a lowborn...potter as his equal? It was all Glorfindel’s fault and she had had to bite her tongue to stop herself from openly accusing him of manipulating Arafinwë into giving that damn Sinda the position. She had tried to pretend that she was happy for Sador but in the end she could not keep up the front and so she had fled. Now she raced out of the palace and into one of the gardens, too incensed to know or care where she was going.

And on top of that, she fumed, when, the night before, she had broached the subject of their betrothal — again! — Findaráto had dismissed her with false endearments, saying he needed more time. TIME! How much time did he need?

"As much time as you are willing to give him."

Amarië froze. That voice had come from behind her but she was sure she had been alone in the garden, angrily plucking the petals off an unoffending rose, and that voice sounded strangely familiar to her. She turned slowly around and her eyes widened and then she screamed.

And could not stop. She screamed and ran blindly, heedless of where she was going, only knowing she had to get away, get away from HIM.

Námo watched the elleth run through the garden and sighed. Maybe it’s the clothes, he thought wryly and heard his beloved spouse’s laughter in his mind. *I keep telling you, my love, black is really not your color.*

The Lord of Mandos mentally stuck his tongue out and more than one Vala’s laughter echoed in his mind as he set off to retrieve this errant daughter.

Amarië stopped running but only because she had crashed into a wall in her blind panic. Now she lay there in a huddle weeping, blood pouring from a head wound. She felt dizzy and disoriented and she feared she would be sick. She felt hands lift her up and she shuddered, knowing whose they were, but the hands and the voice that accompanied them were gentle and loving and her initial fright faded until she was merely whimpering in pain and confusion.

"Hush now. There is no need for tears, child," Námo said softly, placing a hand on the head wound. It was shallow but had bled copiously and the elleth was covered with blood. He closed the wound and took her to a nearby fountain where he washed the blood off her face and hands, all the time speaking calmly, allowing her time to adjust.

"You’ve been behaving rather badly, I fear, child," Námo said, and Amarië had blushed at the gentle reprimand. "Findaráto loves you, but you need to give him time to realize it."

"B...but why doesn’t he realize it now?" she wailed.

Námo shook his head, sitting on the edge of the fountain with the elleth and put his arm around her. "Because he can’t, child. The connections are not there, but they will be if you are patient. Someday Findaráto will know that he loves you and will come to you, but you have to be patient."

"Patient?" Amarië leapt up, anger flooding her. "Patient? When have I not been patient? I stayed here waiting and waiting and he never came back. I turned down suitors, saying in my folly that Findaráto would not find me faithless. I was the soul of patience for all those long centuries waiting for him and when he finally returns..."

She stopped, unable to continue her diatribe, the poison of her disappointment too great.

"And when he finally returned," Námo commented quietly, "you did not recognize him. Even worse, he did not recognize you."

Amarië gave a sob and crumpled to the ground before Námo’s feet. "I should have gone with him."

"No, child. You were not meant to," the Lord of Mandos countered, softly stroking her hair, the blood that had stained it gone. "You were meant to remain behind, to be a symbol for your people."

"Sy-symbol?"

"You said yourself... the soul of patience."

Amarië felt the blood rush from her face as she stared at the Lord of Mandos in disbelief and found herself leaping to her feet again, her face contorted in anger. "Is that all I am to you? To everyone? A symbol? Something to be placed on a pedestal and admired but never once think of the woman behind the symbol or her needs? Is that all I am to you? IS IT?" By now she was practically screaming in rage and without thinking of what she was doing she slapped the Vala in the face.

Silence fell as Vala and Elda stared at one another, Námo with pity, Amarië with horror. She was trembling now, not from rage, but from fear, her mind going blank and she sank to the ground with a moan waiting for her doom to fall upon her. She covered her face with her hands and rocked back and forth, despair settling coldly within her fëa.

"Amarië, stand up and face me," Námo commanded, his voice soft, but it brooked no argument. Amarië tried to refuse, but couldn’t and with much reluctance gathered herself together and stood, her head bowed.

Námo allowed the silence between them to lengthen until Amarië was forced to look up. Her green-flecked eyes were dark with shame and even remorse and Námo was pleased. It meant there was hope for her yet.

He stood up and she stepped back, uncertain of what would happen. The Lord of Mandos put out his hand and she stared at it rather stupidly, not sure what was required of her.

"Take my hand, Amarië," Námo said quietly and with great reluctance the elleth complied. They began walking away from the fountain.

"Wh-where are we going, lord?" she asked with some trepidation.

Námo looked down at her with a smile that did not seem very friendly to her. "Why, to Mandos, child, where else?"

She did not remember stopping and pulling her hand out of his. She did not even remember screaming. She did remember the Lord of Mandos scooping her up like an elfling into his arms. And then she remembered no more.

****

When she came to she found herself still in a garden, but this one was different. She was lying on a sward, a light blanket around her. There was a pillow beneath her head. She gazed about her, not ready to move. Though the profusion of flowers and trees made it impossible to guess its actual size, Amarië had the impression the garden wasn’t very large. There was a small single-room cottage at one end of a dirt path that wound through the garden. No one else seemed to be about.

She sat up slowly and belatedly realized she was naked under the blanket. She snatched the blanket up, clutching it closely to her as she stood, her legs feeling a bit wobbly.

"He-hello?" she called out, though not too loudly.

"Ah, awake at last, are we?"

Amarië spun around with a gasp to find herself staring into the calm eyes of a Valië. Vairë, spouse to Námo, stood there dressed in quiet tones of blue and grey. In her arms was a gown. Amarië recognized it as hers. Vairë held it out to her.

"My spouse thought you would prefer not to have to wear blood-stained clothes and asked me to clean it for you," the Valië said in explanation. "Now, why don’t you get dressed, dear? Don’t worry," she added with a knowing smile at Amarië’s expression of dismay. "There is no one here who can see you."

Amarië nodded and began to dress, Vairë helping her with the ties. Then she led the elleth to a nearby bench and, producing a comb, began to rebraid Amarië’s hair, all the while speaking gently, as if to a frightened child.

"I’m afraid my beloved has an odd sense of humor, but you must not mind him. He enjoys his little jokes, though few appreciate them. Now, don’t you start fretting, dear. It’s not what you think."

"But, I’m in Mandos, aren’t I?" Amarië whispered, her voice hoarse with fear.

Vairë stopped her braiding and bent down to look into Amarië’s eyes. "Yes, dear, you are. But again, it’s not what you think."

But Amarië wasn’t sure what that meant. "Am...am I... dead?" she finally stuttered and she thought she might faint again. Then a Presence made itself known to her and she looked up into the dark visage of the Lord of Mandos.

"Dead? Hardly, Amarië," Námo said, not unkindly. "At least not in the physical sense of the word. You are here in spirit. Your hröa lies elsewhere carefully tended by my Maiar until such time as you are ready to return to it."

Amarië wrinkled her brow in confusion. "If I am here only in the fëa, why does everything seem solid? Even my clothes? In fact, why is my fëa even wearing clothes?"

Námo gave her a wink, much to Amarië’s shock. "Proprieties, my dear. We must always observe the proprieties." He paused and lifted an eyebrow. "Unless, of course, you would prefer standing around naked?" and he gave her a grin that, had it been on any Elda’s face, would have been insulting but on the Vala’s was merely teasing.

Amarië had the grace to blush.

"As for everything seeming to be solid," he added, "that is a consequence of being in our presence. We lend your fëa the sense of solidity that only your hröa knows."

Vairë finished the last braid as Námo spoke to the elleth and bent down again to plant a kiss on Amarië’s brow. "I will leave you now," she said softly, then she straightened and the expression of love that passed between the two Valar was too terrible for Amarië to comprehend and she had to look away. Between one blink of an eye and the next Vairë was gone and she was alone once again with the Lord of Mandos.

She felt, rather than saw, him sit down next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders and drawing her into his embrace. "I want you to listen to me very carefully, child," Námo’s voice was barely above a whisper. "You have a choice: to continue down this path of hate and anger, or to let it go and accept what is in the hope of what might be."

"I love him so much," she moaned, "why can’t he see that?"

"Is it love, or is it something else that he sees when he looks at you?"

"Wh-what do you mean, lord?"

Instead of answering, Námo stood, drawing the elleth with him. "Come. Let me show you something."

They stepped along the path and Námo led her towards a large oak. There was someone standing underneath it with various items of clothing in his hands. Without knowing how she knew, she realized this must be a Maia. At that moment he was staring up into the tree with some exasperation tinged with amusement and... love. She glanced at Námo with an unspoken question. The Vala smiled.

"His name is Olórin and he is one of my servants. He cannot see or hear us, for this is but an image of the past."

"I... I don’t understand."

"I have brought you here into the past. Your hröa could not make the journey, only your fëa, which is why your body lies in safety in one of my brother Irmo’s groves. Now, watch and listen and learn."

Amarië turned to where the Maia was still standing under the tree. He appeared to be speaking to someone she couldn’t see.

"Are you coming down or must I come up?" Olórin asked with some amusement. "I should warn you that if I have to come up there you won’t like it."

Amarië heard a sigh from somewhere in the tree and then she saw an ellon climb down to stand dejectedly in front of the Maia. Amarië felt her eyes widen and she had to turn around in embarrassment. It was Findaráto standing there and he was naked.

Námo looked at her in amusement and gently stroked her hair. "Don’t worry, hinya, your Findaráto cannot see you. Remember, this is the past. It has already happened and you can do nothing to change it. Look now." He turned her around and she was glad to see that the Maia had convinced the ellon to dress. Findaráto was rather clumsy and Olórin had to help him. Her betrothed could not even manage to put his boots on the right feet and Olórin patiently knelt and helped him, all the while speaking in soft admonishments.

"You need to keep your clothes on, child. It will not do to be found naked. It’s simply not done."

"But I don’t like clothes," the ellon protested and Amarië had to stifle a giggle. He sounded so like an elfling instead of a grown Elf.

"He is an elfling in every way that matters," Námo explained. "His fëa has been returned to its primal state of innocence and he’s learning all over again how to be an adult. It’s not an easy process and it will take years to complete."

Amarië looked on this past Findaráto and wondered. "Where are we, exactly?"

"We’re in one of the gardens of the Reborn. Findaráto has only recently been re-embodied and is learning again to integrate himself to the physical world."

She watched as Olórin finished dressing the ellon. "You cannot always hide in a tree, child, whenever things don’t go your way."

Findaráto looked petulant. "I don’t like being Reborn. Why do I have to be Reborn? It hurts too much. Why can't I go back to Mandos?"

Amarië glanced at Námo in surprise and the Lord of Mandos merely shook his head, motioning her to remain quiet.

"Not wanting to be Reborn?" Olórin exclaimed in surprise. "Why, that’s just plain ridiculous. Just think of all you will miss otherwise."

"Like what?" the ellon asked, unconvinced.

"Like this," Olórin replied and pointed down the path. Amarië looked to where the Maia was pointing and gasped in delight. Hundreds of butterflies in every shade and hue imaginable floated in the air in an elegant dance that left the viewers stunned. Amarië glanced at Findaráto and saw how transfixed he was, the expression on his face one of wonder and delight, as if he were seeing butterflies for the first time.

"As indeed he is, daughter," Námo spoke softly. "As indeed he is."

Now Amarië saw that Findaráto was weeping and the sound of his sobs was so heart wrenching that she wanted to go to him and comfort him, but knew she could not. Instead, she saw the Maia wrap his arms around her beloved and stroke his hair, crooning softly.

"Now you see what you would have missed if you hadn’t been Reborn or if you had remained hiding in the tree."

"B-but it hurts so much...and I c-can’t do anything...right."

"Hush now. Do not be so hard on yourself, hinya," the Maia said gently. "Of course it hurts, sometimes, but that’s just to remind us that we are alive. As for the rest... I’m not angry."

"Y-you’re not?"

"No. Accidents are bound to happen. You’re still trying to integrate yourself to your surroundings. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Now why don’t you come into the cottage and I’ll fix you your favorite treat."

Findaráto’s eyes lit up. "With raisins and cinnamon?" he asked excitedly as they reached the cottage.

Olórin smiled and nodded. "I’ll even cut up some apples to put into it."

Whatever Findaráto replied was lost as the door closed behind them. Amarië gave Námo a questioning look. The Vala smiled. "Porridge."

Amarië’s eyes widened. "But Findaráto hates porridge, always has."

"Not any more," Námo laughed. "It’s his favorite food, at least in this moment in time."

"I’ve never seen him eat it since he returned to us, though."

Námo shrugged. "Perhaps because everyone remembers the old Findaráto and no one’s bothered to cook it, knowing how much he hated it before. And Findaráto feels too much a stranger in his own home to make demands for favorite dishes."

Now Amarië was pensive, seeing things in a new light. Findaráto had seemed so young, almost like an elfling. She couldn’t quite grasp that concept, but she began to realize that the Findaráto she had watched leaving Tirion all those centuries ago was not the same one whom she had met outside the Gates of Renewal.

"He’s never going to be the same, is he?" she asked sadly and she began to weep for all that she had seemingly lost.

Námo took her into his arms and rubbed her back. "No, child. He’s never going to be the same, but he will continue to be Findaráto. You fell in love with him once, you can fall in love with him again."

Amarië stepped back, confused. "What do you mean? I still love him. Why do you say that? It’s he who has stopped loving me. I’ve never stopped loving him."

"Truly?" the Vala raised a skeptical eyebrow.

The elleth looked on the Lord of Mandos in confusion and then something inside her broke apart or broke open, some part of her she had not been aware was there, hidden behind respectability and duty and... pain. "He abandoned me," she whispered. "He did not love me enough to stay. He abandoned me." Her voice became ragged and then something deep inside her demanded release and she began pounding on Námo’s chest screaming. "HE ABANDONED ME...ABANDONED ME... ME!!!"

Námo suddenly swung her into his arms and held her through her rage, allowing her to get it all out, like pus from a lanced boil, all the poison of her hatred, sense of worthlessness and disappointment seeping out. He gave her permission to let go and she somehow sensed that and accepted the gift.

Finally, her rage spent, she felt herself empty of all emotions. A sense of uncaring washed over her. It didn’t matter anymore if Findaráto loved her or not. He probably never loved her anyway.

"Not true, daughter," Námo said. "Findaráto loved you more than you can know, but it was not his destiny to remain in Aman at that time. I speak truly. If Findaráto had turned back or if you had managed to convince him not to leave in the first place, your love for one another would have been poisoned by his sense of shame and guilt and eventually resentment. Now, there is no need for guilt or shame between you and your love can blossom and grow, if you give it a chance."

"He abandoned me," was all she could say as Námo rocked her in his arms.

"Yes, he did. The question remains, Amarië, will you abandon him?" Then the Lord of Mandos began singing a lullaby, one that Amarië recognized as that which Findaráto had told her Námo had sung to him while in Mandos and in spite of herself she snuggled further into the Vala’s arms and fell asleep.

****

When she woke a second time, she found herself back in the palace garden. She was lying on a bench under an arbor, shaded from the sun. Someone was standing over her but she could not see who it was.

"Amarië, are you well?"

"Gl-glorfindel?"

He reached out a hand and she took it, allowing him to help her rise. "What happened? How long was I gone?"

He gave her a quizzical look. "What do you mean? You stormed out of the dining hall about a half an hour ago. Why were you so angry?"

Amarië shook her head. Why had she been so angry? "I don’t remember. I’m sorry. I think I’ve been acting rather badly of late. Forgive me."

Glorfindel stared at her for a moment. When he looked into her eyes he saw something that he hadn’t expected to see. For the first time since meeting her, Amarië’s eyes were clear and a light shone through them that had not been there before. Whatever had happened had only been for the best, he thought.

"Would you like to go back inside? The family is still at breakfast." he finally asked.

Amarië smiled up at the ellon. "Yes. That would be nice."

They began walking back towards the palace. Amarië was quiet and Glorfindel left her with her thoughts. As they reached the portico leading into the royal family’s private apartments she stopped, then looked at the golden-haired ellon with a smile.

"Would you mind if we went to the kitchens first? I want to ask the cooks to make some porridge."

"Porridge?" he asked incredulously. What was the elleth up to now?

Amarië nodded. "With raisins and cinnamon and apple slices. It’s Findaráto’s favorite dish, you know."

He didn’t, but he only nodded and allowed her to lead him to the kitchens. The expressions on the cooks’ faces when Amarië made her request was worth the detour.