53: Vand’ Antaina

Finrod followed Irmo out of the grove and across a sward towards Lórellin. They walked in silence for a while. Finrod wondered how much trouble he was in. Then Irmo finally spoke.

"You and Laurendil were very impressive, though it is not how I planned for you two to spend your morning."

Finrod grinned. "Me neither. I never got to finish my breakfast. I don’t think I leapt out of a chair so fast in my life."

"I’m afraid Meneldil did not appreciate your... er... methods."

Finrod snorted in disdain. "I’m sure he would have appreciated being strangled to death even less and I did apologize."

Irmo raised an eyebrow at that. "Well, he is a master healer and his pride has been damaged somewhat by what happened. The others were also upset, including Eärnur. They are not used to a mere apprentice ordering them about, especially one who is known to have been Exiled."

Now Finrod’s expression was one of complete disgust. "I am not here to pander to those who think they’re better than I because they never left Aman or died. Your Lóriennildi will just have to live with it... and me, as long as I’m stuck here."

Irmo stopped, his expression inscrutable. "Is that how you feel, my son? Stuck here? Is this truly a prison for you?"

Finrod frowned, his eyes staring down at the ground, trying to gather his thoughts. "I told Eärnur last night that I am a prince of Eldamar." He looked up, not really seeing anything. "I cannot waste my days holding other people’s hands when my atar has need of me. I’m flattered that you want me to be your apprentice. I even toyed with the idea of asking to become one early in my re-embodiment, did you know?" Irmo nodded with a warm smile. Finrod continued, "But hiding away in Lórien is not what I wish to do." Here, he looked directly at the Vala, his lips tightening, his eyes flashing. "And I don’t appreciate not being asked."

Irmo nodded. "As for that, I will not apologize. Some things are not in your purview to control just yet. The course of your life is one of those things for the moment."

"Lord Námo keeps insisting that we Reborn have the opportunity to live the life Eru meant for us to live, yet you blithely deny me that right."

"Do I?" Irmo asked in a mild tone. "Or perhaps I have a better idea what that life was meant to be and am simply guiding you on the right path."

"Guiding me?" Finrod laughed without any real mirth, beginning to feel anger. "More like pushing me... and Glorfindel... and possibly even Sador. Don’t think just because sometimes my actions are those of an elfling of forty that I’m blind or stupid not to notice how you Valar are manipulating us."

Irmo’s expression became sad. "I have never thought of you as either, my son. If it seems to you that we are being manipulative, that is only from your perspective. Plans have been put into motion that have been in the making since the Darkening of Valinor." Finrod paled slightly at that and Irmo nodded. "Even as you and Glorfindel and Turgon and all the others were trudging across the Helcaraxë, we have been working towards this day when you are standing here in Lórien berating me."

Finrod blushed at that, but his anger was still not assuaged. "So you knew I would die... or did you only hope?"

Now Irmo looked shocked. "Oh, Findaráto. Have you come through death and judgment and know so little of us? Our greatest wish was for you to turn back from the folly of your ventures. You little know the grief your leaving caused us, not the least because we knew we were partly at fault. Every step you took towards your destiny was as a death knell to us and we could do naught to prevent it."

He sighed and shook his head before continuing. "From the moment the Trees were destroyed we began making contingency plans, most of which have been abandoned over the centuries as choices were made or not made among the Elves." Here, Irmo gave Finrod a deprecating grin. "The problem, you see, is that we cannot predict with any real certainty which way you Children will jump. If you hadn’t tired of hunting with the sons of Fëanáro, who do you think would have met with Bëor’s people first?"

Finrod could only shake his head, for he could not conceive of anyone finding the Atani before him, yet he had a sick feeling that had it been another, events would have gone otherwise than how they did, to the sorrow of them all.

"You... you planned for me to..."

"Nay, child," Irmo protested. "But I think Eru did. I think Eru planted that restlessness in your heart that drove you into Exile, not because you particularly wished to defy our Authority, but because your destiny was larger than Aman could hold. The meeting of Finrod Felagund with Bëor of the Edain was as a pebble dropped into a still lake, its ripples echoing down the Ages until even we Valar do not know where it will lead."

Finrod was silent at that and when Irmo continued walking, he followed, deep in thought. Irmo remained silent also, allowing the ellon time to think things through for himself. They reached the lake and were strolling along the shore when Finrod spoke again, pointing to his tabard.

"Eärnur did not recognize this. I thought I was to be your apprentice."

"And you are," Irmo said, smiling gently. "But not mine alone."

Finrod stopped in surprise. "Who?"

"Mine, actually."

Finrod turned to see Námo striding towards them from further along the shore. The Lord of Mandos was dressed in an ankle-length black velvet tunic with wide sleeves. He wore a shirt of fine lawn with gathered sleeves underneath. The tunic was cinched at the waist by a silver-linked belt of marillar and isilsardi. On his carefully braided hair he wore a thin circlet of mithril with a single tumbled white topaz embedded in the center of it.

Then he noticed that Irmo’s clothes had changed. Gone was the light blue silk tunic. Instead, the Vala wore an ankle-length tunic of pure white velvet with wide sleeves. The shirt underneath was dyed black and the tunic was cinched at the waist with a belt made of black onyx linked with gold. His hair was elf-braided in a similar pattern to Námo’s and on his head was a thin circlet of gold with a single black opal embedded in its center.

Except for the color schemes, the two Valar were identically dressed.

"Yours?" Finrod asked.

Námo nodded with a smile. "My brother and I took note of your interest in becoming a Lóriennildo when you first came here after being Reborn. You were at a loss to know what was expected of you and you were uncertain of your reception among your people and your family. It was natural that you would want to find some other, alternate, occupation worthy of your skills and abilities."

Finrod gave the Valar a wry smile. "So does this mean that you don’t think I’m good enough to rule and must needs find other... employment?"

Irmo shook his head in amusement. "It means just the opposite. A ruler who has no compassion for the hurts of his people and kingdom is not worthy to rule. That you exhibited a wish to become my apprentice and serve your people in a different manner than by ruling them, thinking that you would not be welcomed at Tirion, is a testament to your right to rule... eventually."

Námo spoke then. "We are offering you the opportunity to fulfill that desire to serve in a manner other than as a king. That destiny is no longer yours unless and until Arafinwë steps down as Noldóran. But that will not happen, if it happens at all, for some time yet. In the meantime, we thought you might like to become our apprentice."

"So the significance of the stripes...?" Finrod looked down at the tabard he was wearing.

"They are known as the Fëanturnildi, those who serve both of us. They are few in number and most Elves are unaware of their existence."

"Why?"

Námo gave Finrod a shrug and a diffident smile. "We thought it would be easier that way."

The elf gave the two Valar a shrewd look. "One of your contingency plans, my lord?" he asked Irmo.

The Vala nodded. "One that has existed unchanged in all this time. Come, let us walk."

Together, elf and Valar continued along the shores of Lórellin with Finrod walking between the Fëanturi. Had any elf looked their way they would have seen naught but a fine mist blanketing the shore. Had any Maia done so, they would have seen only the two Valar walking together, speaking to one another. Finrod’s presence would have been hidden from them.

Irmo was speaking. "The Estenduri were the first. They have existed as an order, if you will, since the Eldar first came to Aman. The Great Journey was long and in some cases harrowing. There was a need almost from the beginning for your people to learn the rudiments of healcraft. The Lóriennildi came from among the Estenduri. They are healers of fëar and their skills of mind are great indeed as the Eldar would measure such. Over time, some of the duties of each have changed, especially once elves began to be re-embodied."

Námo picked up the tale. "The Fëanturnildi come from neither order, yet they have the skills and duties of both. My brother and I created the order during the time of the Darkening. The Lóriennildi and the Estenduri are charged with the healing of the fëar and hröar of the Eldar. The Fëanturnildi are charged with nothing less than the healing of Aman itself."

"What?" Finrod stopped in shock and surprise.

Both Valar nodded, looking grave. "The peoples of Aman suffered terribly from Melkor’s depredations... and the Rebellion of the Noldor against our Authority."

Finrod went white at that and gazed at nothing in particular. Námo laid a comforting hand on the elf’s shoulder and Finrod turned to him. The Vala’s expression was still grave, but Finrod also saw compassion there. "What is past is past, my son. We have forgiven you, all of you, though some have not yet forgiven themselves or are unwilling to accept our forgiveness, claiming that it is feigned or no more than condescending arrogance on our part."

"My sister..."

Námo nodded. "Artanis was always a willful child. Yet, we do not blame her or think the less of her. She has a vital role to play in Endórë, though it is one that even we but dimly see. Have faith that when the time is right for her, your sister will return."

"The Fëanturnildi, then..."

"They are pledged to see that Aman itself is healed of the wounds left by the rape of the Trees and all that followed from that," Námo said. "They are few in number and their existence is secret, for they work behind the scenes, as it were."

"How then should I explain this tabard to any who ask?" Finrod enquired. "Eärnur was puzzled by it, never having seen its like before."

"You will say that its significance is unknown to you," Irmo said. "Nor would you be lying, for you see only the colors most associated with us, but you do not understand the full significance of those colors or why we two chose them for ourselves."

"Does my atar know why you summoned me here, my lord?" Finrod asked Irmo and the Vala nodded.

"I approached him and told him what I wished for you and he agreed that you should be given the chance to accept our offer."

"Offer," Finrod echoed. "Yet, I have heard no offers, my lords, only commands. You tell me to come... and I do. You tell me to stay... and I do. You tell me take up this tabard... and I do. I have been obedient to your commands, my lords. Tell me where in all this has there been any offer?"

It was Námo who answered him. "Child, do you not yet realize that in your obedience you have been given the offer? At any stage you could have refused our commands, yet you did not."

"Had you refused at any point," Irmo said, "the offer would have been rescinded. Indeed, you would never have known that an offer had even been presented to you."

"We do not demand that you give us your answer now, Findaráto," Námo said. "Only that you take the time to think about it. Do not concern yourself unduly over your status here. You are an apprentice with duties to both of us. Most of your training will be the same as any of the Lóriennildi or Estenduri."

"There is always a trial period for any apprentice," Irmo then said. "You will remain here for that time. If, at the end of the trial period, you decide you do not wish to continue your studies, you will be free to leave. All that we would pledge from you would be your silence on the matter of the Fëanturnildi. Their greatest strength lies in their being unknown."

Námo looked at the elf, his expression kind. "Will you agree to this, child? Will you at least think about it?"

For a long moment Finrod did not answer or even look at the two Valar. His gaze swept the lake and the island in its midst belonging to the Lady Estë. When he had listened to Lord Námo describe the Fëanturnildi and the task given to them to heal the wounds of Aman itself, a thrill of something akin to joy had gone through him. Here, indeed, would be a worthy calling. He had accepted that he would no longer be a king and thought himself content to sit at his atar’s feet, but he had also feared that in time he would come to resent the loss. Now, however....

He looked at the two Valar standing there, waiting patiently, yet anxiously, for his answer. Then he was on his knees, his hands lifted up in the attitude of a vassal before his liege lord. "I do not need to think about it, my lords." he said, then he intoned the ancient words that would seal his fate and bind him for all the Ages of Arda to the Fëanturi who stood before him, their hands covering his, their expressions ones of solemn joy.

"Here do I give unto thee my oath, that I shall be obedient in all things, in hröa and fëa, to thy will, to come when thou sayest ‘come’, to go when thou sayest ‘go’, that I may be found acceptable in the eyes of Eru Ilúvatar as thy apprentice." Then he paused and his eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth. "Nai tiruvantes i hárar mahalmassen mi Númen ar i Eru i or ilyë mahalmar eä tennoio."

Both Valar laughed at that. Námo raised Finrod to his feet, and gave him a kiss on the brow. "And we will, my dear Findaráto, never fear. We will."

Irmo then took the elf in his embrace. "Á vala Manwë," he whispered, then kissed him on the brow as well before releasing him.

"Now what?" the elf asked, feeling suddenly shy.

"Now comes the hard part," Námo said.

Finrod raised an eyebrow at that and both Valar nodded, identical grins on their faces.

"And that will be what exactly?" he asked suspiciously.

"Remembering to call us ‘Master’... and meaning it." Námo replied, then the Fëanturi started laughing and Finrod found himself joining them as they stood there by the shore of Lórellin.

****

*Will you two go somewhere else and laugh,* Estë’s thoughts rang in the Valar’s minds, sounding highly annoyed. *Some of us ARE trying to sleep, you know!*

Finrod never understood why his Masters suddenly fell to the ground howling with glee.

****

Vand’ Antaina: An Oath Given. Vanda is elided.

Marillar: Plural of marilla: pearl. A symbol of purity and innocence.

Isilsardi: Plural of isilsar: moonstone. A symbol of truth in self-reflection and showing what ‘is’. [isil ‘moon’ + sar ‘stone’].

White Topaz: A symbol of truth and forgiveness.

Black onyx: Used to help people to let go of the past or past attachments. A grounding stone, it is valuable during the confusing or difficult times in a person’s life and is useful for deflecting or absorbing negative forces and influences. A symbol of self-control and resilience.

Black opal: A symbol of faithfulness and confidence.

Noldóran: King of the Noldor [noldo + aran].

Fëanturnildi: Friends of the Fëanturi, i.e. Námo and Irmo. The singular would be Fëanturnildo (male) and Fëanturnildë (female).

Nai tiruvantes i hárar mahalmassen mi Númen ar i Eru i or ilyë mahalmar eä tennoio: "May they keep it, the ones who are sitting on the thrones of the West, and the One who is above all thrones forever." This, of course, is lifted directly from Cirion’s Oath (Unfinished Tales, p. 305).

Á vala Manwë: "May Manwë order it". This is an attested phrase and translation found in The War of the Jewels, p. 404.