62: A Familiar Scene

The next morning Sador met Netilmírë in the common room for breakfast, feeling suddenly shy.

"Good morning... Anammë," he said and hesitantly leaned over to give her a kiss.

Netilmírë smiled and pulled him into her embrace. "Good morning to you, Inyo. Did you sleep well?"

Sador nodded, then blushed. "Er... yes, well, Lord Námo had to sing to me first."

Netilmírë raised an eyebrow at that. "Lord Námo was here?"

The ellon grinned. "I had to tell someone the news. He was the only one I could think of."

Netilmírë laughed, understanding that even now Sador probably didn’t realize that he had told the news to the one person who had known all along and had probably arranged for all this to happen in the first place. No doubt Lord Námo had simply taken delight in Sador’s joy in discovering he had family in Aman and allowed the ellon to believe he was hearing the news for the first time.

"Do you still want to see if we can discover something about your... our family?" Netilmírë asked and was rewarded by a brilliant smile and a glad nod from Sador.

"Gilvagor did help me with some enquiries here in Kortirion, but we had no luck. He suggested I might try Avallónë or Tavrobel. As it is, I wish to look into some of the allegations that the Tol Eressëans have made about the high cost of transporting goods to the island. I do not know if it is true, or if they think it’s true. It may be that the prices the Amaneldi are asking for are in fact reasonable. I don’t know."

Netilmírë frowned slightly in thought. "What do you want to do?"

"I should go to Tavrobel. That is where all shipments are made and then they are dispersed across the island."

"Odd. It would make more sense to have some shipments sent to Avallónë. I would think it becomes rather expensive to move items across the island where there are few roads."

"I thought so too," Sador agreed, "but I would be the first to admit that I have no idea what the logistics of such things are. Perhaps it is more cost effective this way. I want to find out. If the Tol Eressëans’ complaint is legitimate, Atar should know so he can act."

"Then why don’t we go together?" Netilmírë asked. "While you are investigating shipments from Aman, I can perhaps speak to people there about Bro-bronweg and Rían," she added, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar names. "It’s as good a place to start as any."

So it was agreed and after consulting with Gilvagor it was decided that he would accompany them to Tavrobel and help them in their investigations.

"It would be best if I acted as a guide," he said to Netilmírë. "You might get more forthcoming answers to your questions."

"What about Sador?" Netilmirë enquired.

Gilvagor grinned. "Those braids of his are all the introduction he needs. The people of Tol Eressëa have the greatest respect for any who wear the warrior braids, knowing what it was they faced. If they learn that Sador is also a Reborn, so much the better."

"The Reborn here seem somewhat... embarrassed to my mind," commented Sador. "I think they feel inferior to the rest of you because they did not manage to survive long enough to return to Aman of their own free will."

"Only in their own minds is that true," Gilvagor said sadly. "We, better than most, know what the Reborn sacrificed. Many died horribly and in great torment of hröa and fëa. I, frankly, stand in awe of you and all the Reborn, knowing what you did and what it cost you."

Now Sador blushed, feeling embarrassed. "Perhaps if you took the time to tell that to your own Reborn, they might begin to feel differently."

Gilvagor smiled ruefully. "Perhaps you are correct, youngling. Perhaps we don’t take the time to express our gratitude to them and so they think we take them and their sacrifices for granted when the opposite is the truth."

In the end they decided the three of them would travel to Tavrobel in the morning. In the meantime, Sador gave Netilmírë a tour of Kortirion, pointing out the more interesting features of the city. She was quite impressed with the architecture, little though it resembled anything in Tirion or the other cities of Eldamar. It was obvious that the city was heavily influenced by Sindarin values of form and color, though Noldorin touches could be seen as well. It was, she decided, a lovely blend of both cultures that did not detract from either.

"It’s quite beautiful and the elves who built it have nothing to be ashamed of," she said at one point as they sat by a fountain enjoying the afternoon breeze that sent the sharp scent of salt water to them and Sador nodded.

"I think I would like to move here someday. It feels wonderful to hear Sindarin spoken all around me. I feel at home here as I have not felt since being re-embodied."

Netilmírë looked a bit wistful at that. "I wonder if my daughter ever felt at home anywhere after she left Aman."

Sador took Netilmírë’s hand and smiled. "She loved my anatar very much. She once told me that she never felt at home anywhere, not even here in Aman, until she met anatar, and then she knew she was home at last." He paused, looking somewhat uncertain. "I’m glad they died together in Doriath. Anamillë would not have long survived anatar’s death. She would have followed him to Mandos."

Netilmírë patted Sador’s arm. "Then I’m glad they are still together in the Halls of Waiting."

Sador, however, shook his head, looking sad. "It is likely they are not for the Halls are endless and there are many rooms. But even if they are together they will not know one another."

Netilmírë gave him a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

The ellon sighed, then as gently as he could, he explained. "The Dead have no memory of their lives before dying. It is Lord Námo’s gift to them so they are not overburdened with the guilt and remorse that might follow from such memories. All we are left with are our names."

"But... that’s... oh Valar!" Netilmírë stood up, shock written all over her and she turned to flee but Sador stood as well and took her into his arms.

"Hush, Anammë. It’s all right. Please. It’s fine. Anamillë and Anatar are happy. They know nothing but joy and love and peace. All the pain, all the horror and the terror has fled and they remember them not. Someday, when they are re-embodied they will begin to remember their past and will reclaim it." He stepped out of the embrace enough to look her in the eyes and smiled. "You and I must be ready to welcome them and help them to mature into the elves Eru meant for them to be, just as you and Atar and Amillë have helped me."

Netilmírë still felt somewhat shaken at the thought that Voronwë and Ezelmiril had no memory of her, did not even know or care that she lived and waited for them. She looked at this ellon whom she loved now as her great-grandson and not just as an apprentice and smiled back, though she wasn’t sure how successful it was. "They would be very proud of you, you know, as am I." She gave him a hug and kissed him. "Why don’t we continue our tour?"

****

They were walking through another courtyard on the way back to the inn when they saw several elves gathered around a tree. An elleth, a Sinda by her looks and bearing, was standing under it pleading to someone who was apparently hiding in the branches. The other elves looked on in amusement.

"Please, my love, come down." The elleth was nearly in tears. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you."

"What happened?" Sador asked one of the onlookers.

The elf turned and was not surprised to see a Sinda and Noldo standing together. What was odd was that both the Sinda and Noldo were wearing the brighter, flashier clothing of the Amanians. There was something jarring about the ellon wearing a brilliant blue watered silk tunic with a linen shirt dyed a deep rose showing underneath while sporting Doriathrin warrior braids. And the elleth who accompanied him was even more outlandishly dressed and was definitely an elf of Aman. The Tol Eressëan elf could not imagine what one of his own people would be doing in the company of one of the Edhil e-Dor Rodyn. He eyed them suspiciously.

"Why do you ask, stranger? What concern is it to you?"

Sador shrugged and smiled, not at all put out by the other elf’s belligerent tone. "Just wondering, friend. Nothing more."

The other elf relented somewhat at Sador’s non-threatening and unassuming tone, though he still looked suspiciously at Netilmírë. "It’s Haldir. He’s up his favorite tree again," he said, quite forgetting that such an explanation might mean nothing to these two strangers.

Netilmírë looked bemused, not understanding more than a few words and phrases, for Sador had taught her a few common phrases as they traveled to Tol Eressëa. Sador only smiled knowingly. "What set him off this time?"

The Tol Eressëan elf gave Sador an appraising look and then his eyes widened. "You will have to ask Gwilwileth, his wife."

Sador nodded his thanks, then gave Netilmírë a look before approaching the still pleading elleth. Gwilwileth gave a gasp when he touched her lightly on the arm to get her attention and she turned to see a strangely dressed ellon wearing Doriathrin warrior braids, though he looked like no warrior she had ever known. Sador smiled at her.

"Do you know why he’s upset?" he asked her gently.

She shook her head in bemusement. "I was just talking about how I wished to take my blackberry tarts to next week’s fair to be judged and..."

"Ah, yes. That might do it." He gave her a sad smile. "How long has he been released from Lórien?"

"Two weeks." The elleth looked at him with some uncertainty. "Did I do something wrong?"

Sador shook his head. "No, my lady, you’ve done nothing wrong. Something you said apparently triggered a memory and it upset him, that’s all."

She sighed. "He’s been up there for hours and I can’t get him to come down."

"And there’s never a Maia around when you need one, is there?" Sador said with a light laugh. Gwilwileth smiled tremulously and several of the onlookers chuckled. "Perhaps I can help, if you would like."

"You?" one of the onlookers, a Noldo this time, asked. "Why would you bother to help? Indeed, what can you possibly do that we haven’t already done?"

"But you haven’t done anything, except stand around and amuse yourselves at this poor ellon’s expense," Sador retorted with some anger. "At least I’ve some experience in dealing with stubborn Reborn ellyn who like to hide in trees."

Several of the elves there looked suitably embarrassed by Sador’s reprimand. Netilmírë, in the meantime, had been standing there listening to the rapid Sindarin all around her, feeling frustrated at not understanding the words. One of the Noldorin elleth standing nearby noticed and with a smile quietly translated for her. Thus, at Sador’s words about dealing with stubborn Reborn ellyn, Netilmírë looked at her great-grandson with some amusement. Sador saw it and gave her a brilliant smile, then shocked everyone by speaking to her in Quenya.

"Just don’t tell my brothers I said that."

"Don’t worry, Inyo," she said with a laugh. "I wouldn’t dream of it."

Sador turned back to Gwilwileth, who merely stared at him in shock, then he looked up into the tree where he could see Haldir sitting about two-thirds of the way up. By his features, it was obvious that he was a Noldo. Sador looked back at Gwilwileth.

"Was your husband born in Aman, lady?"

Gwilwileth nodded. "Yes. He was born a century or so before the Darkening, I believe. He belonged to Turgon’s retinue and was a member of the House of the Golden Flower."

Sador nodded. "Did he die at Gondolin’s fall?"

The elleth nodded.

"Ah, that would explain it then."

"Explain what?" she asked in frustration, but Sador was not paying any attention to her. He was trying to remember everything Glorfindel had told him about his own Judgment.

He looked back up at the ellon who had completely ignored the conversation occurring right below him and began speaking in a diffident tone. "I have two gwedyr who endured Judgment within the Rind e-Baudh. One of them died in Gondolin, as you did. Glorfindel told me that..."

The mention of Glorfindel’s name set off a spark of reaction from everyone, including Haldir, who suddenly came down from the tree, his eyes bright with shock and surprise. Netilmírë saw the others around her gasp and stare at her aninyo in wonder. Haldir grabbed Sador by the shoulders and stared hard at him.

"I do not recognize you," he said harshly. "How can you say that you are Lord Glorfindel’s gwador when I know you never lived in Gondolin?"

Sador, for his part, remained calm. "I never said I lived in Gondolin. My name is Sador. I am originally from Doriath, but I died at the Havens. Glorfindel and I became gwedyr after we were both Reborn."

Haldir stepped back, looking uncertain. "Then... then you too stood within the Ring of Doom..."

Sador shook his head. "Nay, I did not. Only the Noldorin Rebels have ever been brought before all the Valar for Judgment, or so Lord Námo told me, when I stood before him for my own Judgment. That is what you were remembering, wasn’t it? Your Judgment."

Haldir nodded, his eyes suddenly looking haunted. "It... it was as if I were back there again... and... and..." He tried to back away, but Sador reached for him and drew him into his embrace.

"Hush now, best beloved," he said in a soft tone and Haldir gasped at the familiar words coming from this strange looking Sinda. "All judgments have been rendered, all debts paid. Did not Lord Námo speak these words to you?"

Haldir could only nod, overwhelmed by the emotions roiling within him.

Sador continued holding him, rubbing his back and willing calmness. "Then, you need not fear the memories of that Judgment, for they are of the past and refer to a life that is no longer yours to claim. You have passed beyond Judgment and can now live your life as Eru originally intended for you to do."

Gwilwileth had been listening to this with growing wonder. "Haldir was Judged before all the Valar?"

When Sador nodded, she paled visibly. "W-was he... chained as Morgoth was?" she asked hesitantly.

Haldir pulled himself out of Sador’s embrace to face his wife, his own expression one of shock. "No, Gwilwileth. It was nothing like that." He hugged her fiercely. "I did not know it then, but they treated me with utmost kindness and mercy, though they did not flinch from rendering Judgment upon me for what I had done in defying their Authority."

"But you, Sinda, you did not suffer within the Rind e-Baudh." Sador turned to see one of the Noldorin onlookers glaring at him.

"And why should I have, my lord?" Sador replied calmly. "I never denied the Authority of the Belain nor did I swear terrible oaths that should never have been uttered. That does not mean I did not suffer Judgment, though. Before Lord Námo was I brought and that was as terrifying an experience as any I have ever had."

Haldir looked at Sador in curiosity, trying to figure him out, with his Doriathrin warrior braids and his Amanian-styled clothes. "What happened at your Judgment?"

Netilmírë, when she heard the question translated stepped forward to face Sador. "You do not have to answer that, Sador. I would think that even among these somewhat uncouth Tol Eressëans, such a question borders on rude."

The onlookers, once Netilmírë’s words were translated for those not understanding Quenya, bristled somewhat at her words, but recognized the truth of them nonetheless.

Sador merely smiled and shook his head. "I am not offended, Anammë. You little appreciate what I mean when I say that I have gone beyond all that. Do not worry on my account. I am well." He gave her a quick kiss and then turned his attention back to Haldir. "Are you truly interested in knowing?"

Haldir nodded. "Yes. P-perhaps in the telling of your... story I will find the c-courage to tell my own."

"Very well," Sador finally said. "I was sixty-eight years old when the Kinslayers came upon us in the Havens and I was killed when I tried to stop one of them from killing my little sister." He paused for a moment and looked down, obviously distressed. Then he looked back up at his audience. No one spoke or moved, already caught in his spell of words.

"My next conscious thought was finding myself staring at a beautiful jewel...."

****

Aninyo: (Quenya) Great-grandson. When addressing Sador, Netilmírë chooses to use the more common inyo, which has the meaning of "grandchild, descendant" as well as "grandson".

Belain: (Sindarin) Plural of Balan: Vala.