57: Those Who Guard

Finrod followed Irmo for some time, neither of them speaking. The Vala took him to a part of Lórien he had never seen before, bringing him to a small grove surrounded by great oaks. There was something unearthly, even by elvish standards, about the place, or perhaps, Finrod amended, more earthly than anything he had ever felt before. The light seemed... different somehow and there was something in the air that made him feel both ancient and young at the same time. Finrod stopped and shivered slightly. Irmo gave him a small smile.

"Our personal sanctuary," he said in explanation, gesturing for him to enter.

"Our... as in...?"

Irmo nodded. "All of us. My brother Valar enjoy coming here to refresh their own spirits on occasion." Finrod felt humbled at the thought of being there, for he suspected that few Eldar had ever been invited to this place. Irmo nodded. "Very few."

There was a table and two chairs in the center of the grove and the two of them sat. Irmo poured some wine from a decanter and offered Finrod a goblet which the ellon took, enjoying the fruity taste of raspberries as he sipped the drink appreciatively.

"I meant what I said," Irmo commented after a few minutes, "about you being nothing but trouble."

Finrod smiled faintly. "So did I."

Irmo threw back his head and laughed. "Point taken. Laurendil was correct, you are very dangerous."

Finrod frowned then, looking into his goblet. "I do not intentionally mean to cause trouble, my lord. It’s just that lately..."

"Go on," Irmo said.

"It’s just that lately I find myself acting... differently." Finrod looked up at the Vala. "Like today. Manwen started weeping and I knew what the reason for it was and without actually thinking about it I ... well, you know what happened."

"You were acting as you should," Irmo said kindly. "You were acting as the king you were and still are. You are beginning to reclaim that part of you. Does that frighten you?"

"Sometimes," Finrod admitted reluctantly.

"Good."

"Huh?"

Irmo nodded. "That you hesitate to take up your role is a sign that you are ready to do so. Kingship, especially when it manifests itself as Guardianship, is an awesome responsibility, not to be entered into lightly. You fled Aman in search of adventure and a desire to carve out for yourself your own kingdom. It is remarkable that being the son of a younger prince with no expectation of ruling, you were able to exhibit those aspects of kingship that are the most difficult to achieve: to be the guardian of the people’s trust, more than to be the ruler of their lives. Your own atar had to learn this from Lord Manwë, yet you seemed to know it instinctively. That is why you were able to relinquish your crown as readily as you did. Few could or would have done so, oath or no oath."

"And that makes me... what?" Finrod asked somewhat skeptically.

"Dangerous," Irmo replied in all seriousness. "Very dangerous, indeed."

Finrod gave Irmo a surprised look. "How so?"

Irmo sat for a moment in thought before speaking. "Anyone can rule. The trick is not to rule, but to guard."

Finrod shook his head in confusion. "I don’t..."

"When you traveled through Beleriand, you always posted a watch wherever you stopped for the night," Irmo said. "What was the purpose of the watch?"

Finrod shrugged, thinking it was obvious. "To stand guard over those asleep and assure nothing threatened them."

"Yes," Irmo said with a nod. "Those asleep would be vulnerable to an attack. The same for a people. As king, your duty was to protect the welfare of your subjects. It wasn’t to tell them what to do. That’s why you did not force any to go with you and Beren. That’s why you willingly relinquished your crown, even to one you knew might not remain faithful to the trust given him."

Finrod grimaced. "In that I had no choice."

"Perhaps not," Irmo conceded. "The point is, you gave up the crown for a higher purpose. That has led you here."

Finrod sighed. "I’ve often wondered what happened to my companions, if they’ve been released from Mandos or not."

"Most have," Irmo said, "but you must not seek them out. Let them come to you."

"Why?" Finrod asked.

"Each of them took oath to you, didn’t they?" Finrod nodded. "Their oaths will lead them to you when the time is right for them to do so. Until then, it is best not to intrude into their lives."

"I have no wish to do that. I only wish to apologize to them for leading them to their deaths."

"An apology none of them will accept, for they will have seen their deaths as a fulfillment of their oaths. None of them betrayed you or your mission, did they?"

Finrod shook his head and there was a look of pride in his eyes. "None."

"Then you have no need to apologize to them. To do so would be to diminish their sacrifice in their own eyes."

Finrod took a sip of wine, thinking over the Vala’s words. "I did not wish to take Manwen’s oath."

"I know, and we are sorry you had to."

"We?"

"You call us ‘Valar’ yet it would have been better had you named us ‘Tirnor’, for that is our true nature. We are Guardians of Arda and its peoples, not their rulers. It is far more difficult to guard than to rule, to watch than to lord it over others." Here Irmo gave Finrod a deprecating smile, tinged with sadness. "Whenever we have forgotten this, it usually ends up badly for all concerned."

Finrod grinned slyly. "So I’ve noticed."

Irmo laughed merrily at that. "Such insolence! I think it should be rewarded."

Now Finrod looked slightly worried. "That sounds ominous."

"Not at all," the Lord of Lórien said. "Your gifting Manwen reminded me that my brother and I have been neglectful of our duty to you. It is customary for us to gift those who take oath to us as well."

Finrod frowned. "Was it a similar oath? The one that binds me to my people seems to affect them rather adversely at first. Laurendil wept for days, and now Manwen..."

"It was very similar," Irmo said with a nod. "You were not as deeply affected, not because it wasn’t as grave an oath, but because my brother and I have been shielding you from its full import."

Finrod felt his jaw drop in amazement. "Whyever would you do such a thing? Are my emotions so suspect that you will not permit me to feel them to the fullest?"

"No, my son," Irmo said gravely. "But you are still coming to grips with those emotions and you had a recent... shall we say, incident, did you not?"

Finrod went white at that and he nodded grimly, his lips clenched with the memory of his Judgment still fresh in his mind. Irmo nodded and poured more wine into the ellon’s goblet, encouraging him to drink. When the elf appeared somewhat calmer, the Vala spoke again.

"My brother and I had rather thought you would take some time to think over our offer before taking oath to us. The last thing we expected was for you to offer yourself right then and there. It took us totally by surprise. We’re still reeling from it, if you want to know."

"I find that rather hard to believe, Master," Finrod said, looking skeptical and amused at the same time.

"Believe what you will, Findaráto, it is the truth."

Finrod turned to see Lord Námo striding towards them and rose to offer him a bow, which the Lord of Mandos acknowledged with a nod of his head. Finrod saw that Lord Námo was holding a small box made of fine mahogany wood that fit in the palm of his hand. Námo smiled at the elf and handed it to him.

"This is our gift to you, my son," Námo said. "We apologize for not giving it to you sooner."

Finrod took the box but did not open it immediately, looking enquiringly into Námo’s eyes. Námo smiled gently. "From our perspective, Findaráto, you Children arrived in Arda only last week. We’re still learning about you. You are all full of surprises. When you knelt before us on the shore of Lórellin..." the Vala shook his head and sighed.

"We felt it best to shield you from the full impact of the oath until you were ready," Irmo then said, speaking just as gently. "I brought you here to our sanctuary so that you might experience the oath in a more private setting. My brother and I will... stand watch over you as you do."

"Open the box, Findaráto," Námo said. "See what we have gifted you."

Finrod opened the box and gasped, staring in shock at what lay within. Nestled in a fold of black velvet was a ring. He had last seen it on the left hand of the son of Barahir. "Th-this is my ring," he whispered in disbelief.

Námo smiled. "We thought you might like it back."

Finrod stared at the Vala in shock. "Oh, don’t worry," Námo said reassuringly. "This is but a fair copy. The original even now graces the hand of the present Lord of Andúnië in Númenórë. It is considered a great heirloom of his house."

Finrod nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. He had heard of the island gifted to the Edain and knew that some of the elves of Tol Eressëa even journeyed there, but he himself had no desire to do so. His life was here in Aman now, and he was content.

He stared down at the ring shaped like twin serpents, whose eyes were emeralds. Their heads met beneath a crown of golden flowers that the one upheld and the other devoured.

"Why don’t you put it on?" Irmo said softly.

Finrod nodded and, taking the ring from the box he gave the box to Irmo, then he slipped the ring onto the forefinger of his left hand, its weight feeling familiar to him even after all this time. Almost at once he felt something within him open up and he gasped, unaware that he had fallen to his knees or that he was now weeping. Irmo and Námo stood on either side of him and lightly touched him on the head. Finrod felt their minds touch his. There was no intrusion, merely loving support and Finrod found himself opening up to his Masters, much as Manwen had opened herself to him, and knew only joy in the giving of himself. He knew even more joy when the gift was accepted by the two who stood beside him.

How long it lasted, he never knew, but at last the storm of emotions ebbed and the tears ceased and he grew calm. He was surprised to find himself on his knees and looking up was even more surprised at what he saw. Irmo and Námo still stood on either side of him, but ranged in a loose circle around them were the other twelve Valar. Manwë stood before him, his countenance glad.

Finrod started to rise, but both Irmo and Námo gently held him in his place and he sank back to his knees. Manwë took a step forward.

"Welcome, my son. We are glad you have chosen to join us in our task as Guardians, and though your guardianship extends only to the boundaries of Aman, while ours extends to the edge of Arda and beyond, it is no less a sacred trust and solemn duty that you embrace than the one we hold by the grace of Eru Ilúvatar."

Then Námo spoke. "Once you found yourself within the Ring of Doom and we were your Judges. Today you find yourself within a circle of friends and we are your Companions."

Irmo spoke next. "The role of a Guardian is not an easy one, for we can only inspire, not demand; exhort, not compel. Often we must step back and allow the natural course of events to unfold in the fullness of Time, whether we wish it or not. The ability to let go is an important one for any who would guard and watch over those in most need of it."

Manwë spoke again. "Now rise and let us greet you properly as our brother."

Námo and Irmo helped Finrod to his feet and he was surprised at how weak-kneed he felt. Then he was facing Námo who smiled at him and gave him the kiss of liege lord to vassal. "Welcome, best beloved. Nai tiruva tielya Eru."

Then he handed him off to Irmo who gave him a warm smile and offered his own blessing. After that he found himself being handed around the circle. Each Vala or Valië gave him a kiss in greeting and offered a blessing. When he came to Tulkas, however, the Vala merely laughed and gave him a bone-crushing hug before handing him to Oromë who rolled his eyes at his brother Vala and shared a grin with Finrod. Eventually, he found himself facing Lord Manwë once again.

The Elder King took him by the shoulders and their foreheads touched and Finrod heard Manwë speak to him in ósanwë.

*As one king to another, I need not remind you that kingship is a special burden, a solemn trust, but also there is joy. Do not forget that, child. Á enyalë illúmë i-alassë. It will sustain you during the dark times that may come.*

Then Manwë withdrew his mind from his, kissed him on the brow and stepped back. "You may stay here in this grove for as long as you need to, Findaráto, until you are ready to face the outer world again."

"Thank you, Lord," Finrod said, then smiled ruefully. "I think, though, I should see how Laurendil is holding up. If he’s like every other husband I’ve ever known whose wife has gone away from his side for more than five minutes, he will be feeling morose and full of self-pity. I think I should go and cheer him up."

There were grins all around. "And how do you propose to do that?" Varda asked with a glint of merriment in her eyes.

Finrod shrugged and gave the Valië a wry grin. "Oh, in the usual manner, Lady. I’ll get him uproariously drunk and then we’ll spend the rest of the night singing bawdy songs at the top of our lungs and showing each other our battle scars...or..." he paused, thinking about it, "he can show me his new ones since I don’t seem to have any anymore."

The Valar chuckled at that.

"In that case," Manwë said, "don’t be surprised if my beloved shows up at your pavilion when you start singing ‘The Elf and the Fruit Vendor’." He winked at Finrod who stood there in shocked surprise. "It’s her favorite song, you know, especially verse thirty-one."

Finrod reddened in embarrassment at that revelation and would not look at anyone in particular, much to their amusement. Finally he cleared his throat and said in a diffident tone, "Yes, well, perhaps it would be more prudent if we just have a quiet dinner and forget about the drinking."

Námo nodded solemnly. "More prudent, no doubt... but not nearly as much fun."

Now there was outright laughter and Finrod couldn’t help but join in.

****

Valar: Powers/Authorities.

Tirnor: Watchers/Guardians.

Nai tiruva tielya Eru: "May Eru guard your path".

Á enyalë illúmë i-alassë:  "Remember always the joy".

Ósanwë: Telepathic communication.

The Ring of Barahir: Made by the Noldor in Valinor. Finrod gave the ring to Barahir as a token of his Oath to him after the Dagor Bragollach and Beren later redeemed that Oath during the Quest for the Silmaril. The ring would be passed down through the ages by the descendants of Beren until eventually it will come into the possession of Aragorn near the end of the Third Age. The description of the ring is from The Silmarillion, "Of Beren and Lúthien".