1: In the Gardens of Lórien

Aman, Second Age, Úrimë 24: 

Laurendil looked up from where he was sitting, enjoying the quiet of the afternoon beside the shores of Lórellin, to see Findaráto coming towards him. The Master Lóriennildo stood up, hastily brushing the grass from his surcoat as he gave his friend a smile.

"Aranya," he said, calling the Elf-lord by the title that he had given him so long ago when he had taken the Life Oath before the court of Nargothrond. He held out his hands in greeting. "I was not expecting you for another month."

Findaráto smiled as he clasped hands with his friend, the two of them exchanging the kiss of liegeman and lord. "There’s been a slight change of plans, Amborondanya," the former King of Nargothrond said. "Come, let us walk."

Laurendil raised an eyebrow at Findaráto’s words but complied readily enough with his lord’s wishes and together the two ellyn walked companionably in silence for a while. Findaráto led them away from the lake, towards a particular grove that Laurendil had only been in once before. When he realized their destination, he faltered, looking uncertain.

"Aranya..."

Findaráto turned and placed a comforting hand on the ellon’s shoulder. "It is well, meldonya. Come, Lord Irmo wishes to speak with us."

Laurendil nodded reluctantly and followed Findaráto to the grove of the Valar where none could enter without invitation. To do otherwise courted death. Laurendil took a deep centering breath as he followed his lord into the grove. The last time he’d been here... he shook his head to clear it of the memories of that visit. Even now, they sent shivers through his fëa.

Findaráto gave his vassal a piercing look, as if he could divine the other ellon’s thoughts, then smiled. "It will be well, meldonya," he said softly.

"If you say so, aranya," Laurendil said, trying to sound more convinced than he felt.

The two ellyn made their way into the grove to find Lord Irmo waiting for them in the center, sitting at a table laden with food and drink. The Vala smiled and gestured for them to approach, which they did, giving him their obeisance before sitting as he bade.

"Please help yourselves," Irmo said, indicating the the table. Findaráto nodded and accepted some lemonade, as did Laurendil, for the day was very warm. Even though they were well into Yávië, much of Aman had been experiencing something of a heat wave lately. When Findaráto mentioned it, Irmo assured them that the heat would break soon.

"Even now my brother Ulmo is sending an ocean storm this way to help break up this heat. Inside a week things will be cooler... and a little wetter."

This last was said with a chuckle and both Findaráto and Laurendil joined him, though they all acknowledged that the rain would be most welcome.

After a moment, Irmo addressed them, sounding more sober. "Events are occurring in the Outside World that require our attention," he said without preamble. "There is particular concern about Anador."

"We’ve stopped sending our people there," Laurendil said. "No one from Tol Eressëa has visited the island for almost two hundred years of the Sun."

Irmo nodded. "Until now."

Laurendil raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You mean some have defied..."

Irmo raised a hand to stop him. "Nay, child. I only meant that the Valar have decided to allow one more visit to the Isle of the Star. There is one more message we would have delivered ere the end."

"The end?" Laurendil whispered, feeling a sudden chill of dread. "What end?"

Irmo looked somewhat grim as did Findaráto, and that, more than anything unnerved Laurendil. "We are not sure," Irmo said then. "My brother has seen things..." He sighed then and gave them both a rueful glance. "Well, needless to say, we feel that sending one more messenger will not be amiss. I fear it may be too late for most of those of Númenórë, but there is still a small group of the Faithful who cling to a hope that relationships with us will improve."

"You believe that... that Sauron has indeed corrupted the King of Númenórë," Findaráto said.

"And most of the inhabitants as well," Irmo added with a nod.

Laurendil gave the Vala a considering look. "Whom do you mean to send and with what message?"

Irmo gave the Master Healer a wry smile. "Can you not guess, my son?"

Laurendil gasped. "You cannot be serious, lord. I have not been to Númenórë since Eärnur..."

"I know, my son," the Lord of Lórien said sympathetically, "which is why I think you need to go at this time."

Laurendil shook his head in denial and even started to stand up, though whether he thought to flee the Vala’s presence even he could not have said. Findaráto pulled him back down. "I told Lord Irmo that I would not force you to go, otorno," the once King of Nargothrond said compassionately. "I do, however, agree with Lord Irmo that this is something you need to do... for your sake, if not for Eärnur’s."

Laurendil gasped and felt tears flowing. Then, to his utter shame, he began weeping and Findaráto rose and took him in his embrace, rocking him gently, letting him cry himself out. Irmo remained seated, watching without expression. Finally, Laurendil’s storm of emotions passed and he became calm again. He pulled himself out of Findaráto’s embrace, looking somewhat chagrined.

"Forgive me, aranya...." he began but Findaráto merely embraced him again and kissed his brow.

"There is nothing to forgive, Amborondanya," he said, "I grieve as well for his loss, but you have closed yourself off to much since his death. He would not have wanted that, indeed, does not."

Laurendil gave a snort. "According to what you’ve told me, he doesn’t even remember us, so how can he want or not want anything?"

Findaráto gave the ellon a considering look. "If he knew how you were acting, he would be appalled that he was the cause of it. He would not want that. He is happy, Laurendil, in ways you cannot comprehend. Soon, though, he will be released from Mandos and when he comes to you I think he will be grieved to learn how you have mourned him."

"And you have not?" Laurendil retorted angrily.

Findaráto shook his head. "I never said that. I miss him terribly, but I also know that he will return to us. We must be ready to greet him with love and patience and he must never know that we were as sorrowful for him as we were. He would not want that and frankly he should not be burdened by such knowledge. Take it from one who knows," he added with a wry smile.

Laurendil did not speak but nodded reluctantly. Irmo spoke then.

"Neither will I force you to go, my son," the Vala said, "but I think it would help you more than you know if you do."

"Must I give my decision now, lord?" Laurendil asked.

Irmo smiled. "Nay, child. Go and speak to your wife and children first. There is still time before you must leave, but if you do not wish to go we must find someone else and frankly I fear that the only other person capable of dealing with what you will find there is standing next to you and you know he will not leave Aman."

Findaráto shook his head. "I vowed never to go any further than Tol Eressëa and I mean to keep my oath. My life is here in Aman now, and I will never see Endórë or any Mortal again until the Renewing." He spoke calmly and without rancor.

Laurendil sighed, then gave the Vala a bow. "Then, lord, if you will give me leave, I would consult with Manwen... and others," he stole a brief glance at Findaráto, "before I give you my decision."

Irmo nodded. "Go then, my children. Come to Taniquetil next Valanya and give us your answer at that time. Until then...."

Irmo was simply not there. Even the table and chairs were gone. Findaráto gave his friend and brother a quick hug and then the two elves made their way out of the grove, both deep in thought and memories.

****

Findaráto left Laurendil at the grove where he made his home with his wife, Manwen, and their youngest child, the older two having already left the nest (or flown the coop, as Manwen put it).

"Speak with Manwen and your children," Findaráto told him, "and when you are ready to give me your decision, you know where to find me."

Laurendil nodded and gave his liege a short bow before entering the grove. Manwen was there, having completed her duties earlier and smiled in greeting. "I did not expect you for some time, beloved," she said, speaking in Sindarin, for they had decided that inside their grove only that language would be spoken unless non-Sindarin speaking guests were there.

He smiled back and gave her a light kiss on the cheek, which she returned. "Nor did I, but Finrod..."

She gave a small gasp and looked over his shoulder, as if expecting to see her lord, and was disappointed when she did not. "He is here?" she asked.

"Yes, and he will greet you properly in time," he answered, "but he has business to which he must attend ere he can do so."

She nodded and gave her husband a knowing look. "What is it you are not telling me, husband?"

Laurendil smiled at his wife. "What I need to say I prefer to say only once. The children need to hear this as well."

Manwen raised an eyebrow at that. "Well, you know that Marilla and Vorondil will be coming for dinner and Irmondil said he would be here later this evening as he is dining with friends who have come from Tol Eressëa to visit."

Laurendil nodded. "That is well. Come, I will help you."

They entered the pavilion set aside for cooking and began to prepare the night meal together. "Eärnur is not here yet?" he asked after their youngest child as he prepared the meat.

Manwen shook her head as she cut up the vegetables. "He is still at his lessons with Master Meneldil," she told him, "though he should be done soon."

Laurendil nodded. Meneldil had been something of a thorn in their side when the two of them had first arrived in Lórien, but over time they had learned to respect and even admire the Master Healer and, eventually, the three of them became friends. All their children, in fact, had been tutored in herblore by Master Meneldil. They continued preparing the meal in companionable silence. Manwen forbore to pester Laurendil with any questions concerning Finrod or what was troubling her husband, keeping to safer subjects, such as the latest escapade of their grandson, only just turned fourteen. They were laughing over Manwen’s tale when Eärnur arrived, greeting his parents warmly.

"Your sister will be here with her family shortly," Manwen said to their son. "Go wash up and help set the table."

"Nana, I wish you would stop treating me as if I’m no older than Calaldundil," the ellon protested with a sigh, naming his young nephew. Eärnur, in fact, had nearly reached his third yén.

"A nana’s prerogative," Laurendil said with a smile. "Off you go now."

Eärnur nodded good-naturedly, giving his amillë a kiss and his atar a lopsided grin. He strolled towards his own pavilion, whistling as he went.

Laurendil watched his youngest walk away with a bittersweet look. Eärnur had been born shortly after Laurendil’s last journey to the Star Island seeking for news about his friend who had been lost at sea. The anger he had felt then had transmuted over time into wistfulness whenever he saw his son, named after his friend. Manwen took his hand and squeezed it, knowing where her husband’s thoughts were. Laurendil looked at his wife and smiled, though his eyes were wet with unshed tears. She smiled back and opened her arms, allowing him to enter her embrace and grieve once again for the one who’d been lost.

****

Marilla and Vorondil arrived with Calaldundil in tow just about the time Eärnur finished setting the table. Calaldundil ran to greet his grandparents who hugged him and fussed over him with just the right degree of restraint that he didn’t bolt. The ellon hated being petted and fretted over by the adults around him, so they were careful not to overdo it. Finally, Manwen and Laurendil declared themselves satisfied that Calaldundil had indeed grown overnight and was the handsomest ellon in all of Aman and sent him off to help Eärnur pour the drinks, while they greeted his parents.

Marilla gave a merry snort at the relieved look on her son’s face as he practically ran to the kitchen, nearly tripping over himself in his eagerness to be away from the adults, while her husband, Vorondil, winked at Laurendil.

"Remind you of anyone?" he asked with a laugh.

"Unfortunately, yes," Laurendil retorted with a smile for his son-in-law, "though you were several decades older, as I recall."

"Your brother will be joining us later," Manwen said to her daughter as the four of them moved to sit at the dining table while Eärnur and Calaldundil served the meal. "He’s dining with friends he met in Kortirion when he was last there."

During the meal, Laurendil kept the conversation light and Manwen followed his lead. She wondered what Lord Finrod had asked of her husband, but knew that he would not speak of it until their oldest child was there. In the meantime, Calaldundil kept them entertained with stories of his own adventures. He was one of the few elflings in Lórien, the children of healers, like themselves, and he was the youngest.

"Marilla and I are thinking of sending Calaldundil to Tirion for fostering," Vorondil said at one point. "We think he would benefit from the experience of being around children his own age."

Laurendil and Manwen nodded. "I think that’s a good idea," Laurendil said, smiling at his grandson, who sat there with a scowl on his face. "Just think of all the mischief he can really get into without tripping over Maiar right and left." He winked at Vorondil, who laughed.

"Indeed," he said, ruffling his son’s hair, and the child’s expression was less dark, as he pondered his Anatar’s words, wondering if he were merely jesting with him. "At any rate," Vorondil continued, "I hope to discuss the matter with my Master when he comes next month, see what he says."

Laurendil hid a smile while Manwen busied herself with pouring drinks. Even after all these yéni, Vorondil still referred to Finrod as ‘Master’, though his thralldom had ended a long time ago. Still, Laurendil contemplated, in many ways Finrod was still Vorondil’s Master, for the Noldorin prince had taken the elfling Vorondil had been at the time under his wing and had tutored him in the proper ways of honor and respect, so in that sense, Vorondil had been Finrod’s apprentice.

"I’m sure he will have some ideas about that," Laurendil said. "He’s very fond of Calaldundil, you know."

The elfling’s parents nodded, looking fondly on their child, and the adults continued discussing possible options for fostering. They were interrupted by the arrival of Irmondil, Laurendil and Manwen’s firstborn. He greeted everyone with a smile, ruffling his nephew’s hair and taking a seat next to him, accepting the cup of tea that Manwen offered him.

Laurendil decided now was the time to tell his news. "Lord Irmo has asked me to do something for him," he said without preamble and everyone stilled to hear what Laurendil would say. He cleared his throat and took a sip of tea before continuing. "The Valar have decided to send one last Messenger to Annûnnor and they’ve asked me to go. Finrod agrees with them."

The reactions of the others were typical. Manwen merely sat there looking stunned. Irmondil and Marilla began pestering him with questions, speaking over each other in their haste. Eärnur had an unreadable expression on his face as he watched his atar closely. Calaldundil was wide-eyed with wonder and excitement. Vorondil’s reaction was the most telling. He leaped up, his eyes wide with surprise.

"My Master is here?" he exclaimed. "Why did he not come greet me?" The sense of hurt and confusion on the ellon’s face was heartbreaking and Laurendil stood up and took his son-in-law into his embrace.

"He will, yonya," he said quietly, switiching momentarily to Quenya. "He needed to attend to other business first. We will go together to see him later."

Vorondil seemed mollified by Laurendil’s words and he sat back down. Irmondil and Marilla had ceased their own questions as they watched their atar interact with Vorondil. Laurendil, reseating himself, looked at his family and smiled at them wistfully.

"Lord Irmo feels I need to go on this final mission for the Valar," he said, speaking once again in Sindarin, "and your Uncle Finrod agrees."

"What do you think?" Manwen asked quietly, eyeing her husband shrewdly.

Laurendil shrugged as he and Manwen shared a look between them that their children had seen often enough without truly being able to interpret its meaning. "I told him I would talk it over with you first before I gave him my decision. I am to go to Taniquetil next Rodyn to give them my answer either way."

"And you’re the only one in all of Aman the Valar feel is capable of giving these Edain a message they are likely to ignore?" Irmondil asked his atar skeptically.

Laurendil gave his oldest child a measured look. "Yes," he answered simply and the finality of his tone brooked no further discussion on the reasons of the Valar in this matter.

"Do you want to go, Ada?" Marilla asked quietly, her usually fair face darkening with a frown.

"It’s not a question of wanting, Marilla," Laurendil said just as quietly. "The Valar have asked this of me for reasons of their own. They will accept my refusal but the only other alternative is to send your Uncle and he has vowed never to leave Aman again." He gave them all a wry smile. "There is really little choice in the matter."

Vorondil nodded, his eyes bright with a level of wisdom not given to the others sitting there. "So you’ve already made up your mind to go." It was not a question.

Laurendil nodded. "Yes, I have, but I still felt I should at least discuss this with you all."

"Will it be dangerous?" Calaldundil suddenly asked, his eyes bright with barely suppressed delight at the prospect of danger, though it warred with the equally barely suppressed fear for his beloved Anatar’s safety.

Laurendil addressed his grandson gravely, recognizing Calaldundil’s dilemma. "Yes, daerion nîn, it will probably be very dangerous, for it is death for any of the Eldar to be found on the Island of the Star. Yet, I promise you that I will endeavor to do all to protect myself and return to you safely."

That seemed to mollify the ellon. Vorondil gave Laurendil a wistful look. "I remember Master telling me about his first meeting with Bëor and the Edain when I first came to Lórien as his thrall." The words were spoken in a matter-of-fact tone without any sense of shame or guilt. The others merely nodded; Marilla took her husband’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. He smiled at her before returning his attention to Laurendil. "I always thought it would be interesting to meet them. They sounded fascinating from the descriptions Master gave me. I wish I could accompany you, Adar," he added, giving Laurendil a lopsided grin, "but I doubt the Valar, especially Lord Námo, would want me to be out of their sight for too long."

Laurendil actually laughed. "Most likely not, iôn nîn," he said, his eyes bright with merriment. "Lord Námo is much too fond of you and I’m not even sure if Finrod would countenance it."

"Me neither," Vorondil said equably with a smile.

Manwen sighed then. "Well, it doesn’t give you much time for packing if you plan to reach Taniquetil in time, my husband. Will you see Findaráto tonight and tell him your decision?"

Laurendil shook his head. "Nay, tomorrow is soon enough. We will all go to see the Prince that he knows that all of you, even you Calaldundil, are in agreement with this as well."

The others looked at each other and Calaldundil blinked in surprise at being included in his Anatar’s regard. Laurendil remained silent, allowing them all to come to terms with what he had decided even before he had ever left the Vala’s grove. Finally, Irmondil gave Laurendil a smile.

"We agree, Adar," he said simply, "but on one condition."

"And what would that be, iôn nîn?" Laurendil asked though he already suspected what the answer would be, nor was he surprised when Irmondil gave it.

"We accompany you to Taniquetil and then to Tol Eressëa to see you off."

Laurendil nodded, a slow smile creeping across his face, his eyes full of love for the family with whom he had been graced. "So be it," he intoned formally. "Tomorrow we will go see Finrod."

****

All words are Quenya unless otherwise noted.

Úrimë 24: Equivalent to our September 1.

Yávië: Autumn, which begins on Úrimë 5 (August 13).

Note: For convenience, I have adopted the Calendar of Imladris for this story. See Appendix D for details.

Lóriennildo: (Male) Follower of Lórien [modeled after the attested Yavannildi "The Followers of Yavanna"] The feminine form is Lóriennildë, the plural being Lóriennildi. It is a title among those elves who have dedicated themselves to the healing arts under the Lord of Lórien. The Lóriennildi tend to minister to those who are troubled in mind, as well as to the Reborn who are sent to Lórien before being released into the general population. Those healers who tend to minister to the physical hurts of the elves are called Estenduri, "The Servants of Estë" [Estendur (male); Estenduriën (female)].

Aranya: My king.

Amborandanya: My Most Faithful One; a title Findaráto has given Laurendil.

Meldonya: My (male) friend. The feminine version would be meldenya.

Fëa: Soul, Spirit.

Anador: Land of Gift, what the Valar originally named the island that would later be known as Númenórë.

Otorno: Sworn brother.

Valanya: The sixth day of the Valian week, dedicated to the Valar. The "Highday" of the Amanian calendar. The Sindarin forms were Orbelain or Rodyn.

Yén: An elvish century, equal to 144 solar years. Eärnur is 390 years old.

Nana: (Sindarin) Hypocoristic form of Naneth: Mother.

Ammë: Hypocoristic form of Amillë: Mother.

Atar: Father.

Anatar: Grandfather.

Yonya: My son.

Annûnnor: (Sindarin) Númenor; cf. Arannnor "King's land", an older form of Arnor.

Edain: (Sindarin) Men.

Ada: (Sindarin) Hypcoristic form of Adar: Father.

Daerion nîn: (Sindarin) My grandson.