2: In the Hall of the Elder King

Findaráto looked up from the document he was perusing to see one of Irmo’s Maiar standing before him. "Greetings, Ingil," he said respectfully. "What may I do for you?"

Ingil gave the prince a slight nod of the head and smiled. "Greetings Prince Findaráto. I am to tell you that Laurendil is on his way to see you... along with his entire family."

Findaráto raised an amused eyebrow. "I see," he replied. "You will, of course, divert them from their course. I will meet with them in due time."

"Of course," the Maia said with a gleam in his eyes. "It is why Lord Irmo sent me to warn you."

"And I thank Lord Irmo for his timely warning," the ellon said with a laugh as he stood. He made a shooing motion with his hands. "Off you go now."

Ingil laughed and then was gone. Findaráto stared at nothing for a time, a fond smile gracing his lips. Then he shook himself and sat back down to re-read the missive he’d been looking at when Ingil had appeared. Laurendil and his family would have to wait a little longer before seeing him.

****

Neither Laurendil, Manwen nor anyone else in their family was surprised when a Maia appeared before them as they made their way towards the Ampano Arano where Findaráto dwelt whenever he visited Lórien. Everyone stopped and gave the Maia their bows.

"Greetings, Children," Ingil said with a smile.

"Greetings, Ingil," Laurendil replied. "We’re just on our way to see Findaráto."

Ingil nodded. "Which is why I’m here. Lord Findaráto sends his regrets but he was called away suddenly and cannot meet you at his pavilion."

"Called away?" Vorondil asked with a frown and then he sighed. "I didn’t even get a chance to greet him."

Ingil gave the ellon a sympathetic smile. "I did not say he was gone, Vorondil. I said he was called away. I’m to take you to where he is."

Vorondil’s expression brightened and Laurendil hid a smile, amused how Vorondil still reacted much like an elfling where Findaráto was concerned. He put an arm around his son-in-law’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze even as he addressed the Maia who was patiently waiting. "Lead us then, good Ingil," Laurendil said, "and we will follow."

Ingil bowed then gave Calaldundil a smile as he held a hand out to the youngster. "Come child," he commanded gently, "walk with me and tell me what you have learned from Mistress Nísimalótë," naming the elleth in charge of teaching the elflings of those who were in service to Lord Irmo and Lady Estë. The ellon took the Maia’s hand without hesitation and began to tell Ingil all about learning the names of the stars, which herbs to use to relieve sore muscles and the duties of the different Peoples of the Valar. The others walked behind with indulgent smiles, listening to the elfling gravely explain what Ingil’s responsibilities were while the Maia evinced ignorance of any knowledge of them or those of his brethren.

It was some minutes before any of them realized where they were headed. Irmondil was the first to slow down, followed by his siblings, their expressions ones of doubt and uncertainty. Vorondil simply came to a full stop, his expression closer to fear. Laurendil and Manwen exchanged worried glances but otherwise did not say anything.

"What’s wrong, Ingil?" Calaldundil suddenly asked when the Maia stopped and stared back at the older Elves with compassion. The elfling looked about in confusion. "Why did everyone stop?"

Ingil glanced down at the child and gave him a comforting smile, then looked back at the others still standing there. "There is nothing to fear, my children, you know that," the Maia said compassionately. "All is well. Come. They are waiting."

With some reluctance, Laurendil nodded and motioned for the others to continue, gently taking Vorondil by the shoulders and guiding him forward. Calaldundil glanced worriedly between the adults and the Maia.

"Wh-what’s wrong with Atto, Ingil?" he asked, for he had noticed how white his atto looked. He did not remember ever seeing his atto look so distraught before and it frightened him.

Ingil smiled at the child clinging to him. "It is well, Calaldundil," he said, casting a sympathetic look at Vorondil before returning his gaze upon the elfling. "Your atto will be fine. Come along now. We mustn’t be late."

With that, they continued on until they reached a particular grove, the same grove to which Findaráto had taken Laurendil the day before. Ingil stopped at the entrance and turned to face the older Elves, seemingly able to lock gazes with all of them at the same time. "There is nothing to fear here, Children," he reiterated. "All is well. Laurendil, take Manwen and your children in. I will follow with Vorondil and Calaldundil."

Laurendil gave Vorondil a worried look. Vorondil’s eyes were blank with remembered fear. Laurendil turned to Ingil, his expression darkening towards anger. "Hasn’t he suffered enough without bringing him here of all places? Have the Valar or Findaráto grown so callous as to forget...."

"Peace, Laurendil," Ingil said, raising a hand to forestall the Elf’s words. "Go with Manwen and your children. I will follow with Vorondil."

"I’m not leaving my husband," Marilla said suddenly, "or my son." She reached out and pulled Calaldundil out of the Maia’s hold and into her arms, holding him close. The elfling, who normally would have protested such a move on his ammë’s part, merely stood there in her embrace, his eyes full of confusion and fear. Vorondil never moved, his eyes still blank with a memory long suppressed.

Ingil’s expression of sympathy did not change but something in his stance alerted the Elves, who had instinctively drawn closer to one another. There was a shimmer of light and then Lord Námo was there, his expression grave, though not forbidding.

"Children," he said in a concerned voice, "why stand ye here outside this grove? Enter and fear not!"

No one moved, all eyes on Vorondil who still had not responded to what was happening around him. Námo gave him a sharp stare, frowning somewhat, then sighed. He turned to Ingil. "Take them inside, Ingil, I’ll deal with Vorondil."

Ingil started to acquiesce when Calaldundil suddenly pulled himself out of Marilla’s arms and began attacking the Vala, flailing his fists impotently at Námo’s midriff, which was as high as he could reach. "Don’t you hurt my atto!" he screamed. "Don’t hurt my atto!"

Several things happened at once. Marilla, Laurendil and Manwen all yelled in horror, reaching for the elfling at the same time. Irmondil and Eärnur just stared with their mouths agape at their nephew beating on the Lord of Mandos and slowly backed away, as if to be as far as possible from the wrath to come. Námo, to his credit, just stood there and allowed the child his way while exchanging an unreadable look with Ingil. Vorondil suddenly laughed. That brought everyone except Calaldundil to a standstill. Vorondil continued laughing even as he reached down and plucked his son up, holding him tightly and rocking him to calmness.

"Yonya, yonya," he said, "Even I was never so stupid as to attack one of the Valar." He glanced up at Námo, his expression gleeful. "Though I recall arguing with you over a pail of clams once."

Námo laughed. "It was my pail after all," he said much to the astonishment of the younger Elves. Manwen and Laurendil exchanged knowing looks.

Calaldundil meanwhile had calmed down, realizing that he was in his atto’s arms and that all was well. He opened tearful eyes, wondering if he was going to be punished. Everything was so confusing and he was frightened for his atto. "So-sorry, atto," he whispered.

Vorondil looked down upon his son and smiled wistfully, then bent down and gave him a kiss on his forehead. "I know you are, yonya," he said softly.

Námo turned his attention to Laurendil. "Go inside, child," he said. "Take the others with you. Ingil and I will be along with Vorondil and Calaldundil shortly."

Laurendil only hesitated for a minute before nodding. "Come, all of you. The Lord of Mandos has spoken."

Long ingrained habit of obedience to the Valar took over and with proper obeisance, Laurendil and Manwen herded their three children towards the grove’s entrance. Marilla looked uncertainly at her husband and Námo. Vorondil nodded encouragingly. "Go, best beloved," he said. "We will be well."

Marilla nodded and allowed herself to be led into the grove leaving her husband and son to face the Lord of Mandos alone. Námo gave Vorondil a considering look while the ellon continued rocking his son and crooning something soothing in a soft singsong voice. The Vala smiled to himself as he realized that Vorondil was singing a very ancient lullaby to Calaldundil, who, now that his fear was abating, allowed himself to be comforted in his atto’s arms. Soon, he was falling asleep. Only then did Vorondil look up at the Lord of Mandos.

"Forgive me, my lord," he said. "The sight of this grove...."

"There is nothing to forgive, best beloved," Námo said, brushing a hand softly through Calaldundil’s hair. The elfling’s only response was to snuggle further into Vorondil’s embrace. "It grieves me that even after all this time you are still haunted by such memories. I’m afraid we Valar did you a disservice in that regard."

Vorondil shrugged. "Master warned me that it might happen," he replied. He looked down at his now somnolent son and there was a wistful smile on his face. "He’s so precious," he said almost to himself.

Námo smiled gently and reached a hand to hold the back of Vorondil’s head as he bent down to give the ellon a brief kiss on his forehead. "As are you, best beloved, as are you." He released the elf and gave Ingil a nod before returning his attention to Vorondil. "I think we’re ready to go in, don’t you?"

Vorondil nodded and without hesitation followed the Maia into the grove with Námo right behind him. Vorondil looked about him with interest, for the last and only other time he had been here it had been at night and he had not been fully cognizant of his surroundings at the time. He noticed with some disappointment that Findaráto was not there, though Lord Irmo and Lady Estë were. He gave them a brief but respectful bow mindful of the child in his arms. Marilla came to him, her eyes full of questions. She saw her son fast asleep and smiled, relaxing somewhat. She and Vorondil exchanged knowing smiles and gently kissed each other. When they parted they continued further into the grove where the others waited.

"Is all well, yonya?" Laurendil asked Vorondil, his expression dark with concern as his eyes flitted between Vorondil and Námo.

Vorondil nodded. "Yes, Atar," he said, "all is well now. I’m sorry if I caused you any concern. I guess the force of the memory surprised me more than anything else."

Lord Irmo placed a solicitous hand on Vorondil’s shoulder. "It grieves us all that this has happened, Vorondil," the Vala said. "But if you are well, perhaps we can continue with our purpose here."

Vorondil nodded. "Of course, my lord."

Irmo nodded, giving the ellon a brief smile before turning his attention to the others. "I am also sorry that any of you suffered distress over this. It was not our intention. You’ve been brought here because events in the Outer World are moving faster than we anticipated and it will take you too long to travel to Taniquetil by... normal routes."

The Elves all exchanged puzzled looks. Námo put a hand on Vorondil’s shoulder to get his attention. "Do you remember the conservatory in Ilmarin, child?"

Vorondil slowly nodded and then his expression lightened. "The beach."

"Yes," Námo said with a slight grin. "There are certain places throughout Aman where... energy fields are concentrated enough to allow us to... transport others by the power of our thoughts. The conservatory is one. This grove is another."

Vorondil nodded, then turned to the others. "It is well," he said. "I’ve done this before, though in truth at the time I was too frightened to understand what was happening. No harm will come to you. It may be disconcerting at first but the... transfer is almost instantaneous." He glanced up at Námo for confirmation and the Vala nodded.

"We will each take two of you," Námo said, indicating Irmo and Estë who were waiting patiently. "Vorondil is correct. There is nothing to fear. I will take Vorondil and Marilla. Estë will take Irmondil and Eärnur and Irmo will take Laurendil and Manwen."

Even as Námo was speaking Estë went to the two ellyn and smiled at them encouragingly, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders. Irmo was doing the same with Laurendil and Manwen, while Námo was beckoning for Marilla to come into his embrace even as he wrapped an arm around her husband. Vorondil held his still sleeping son a little tighter.

"I... I think it helps if you keep your eyes closed," he said to the others and followed his own advice.

Laurendil glanced at his wife who gave him a small smile and a shrug and then closed her own eyes. He looked over at his two sons and nodded encouragingly. Marilla had already followed Vorondil’s advice. He gave Irmo a glance and the Vala smiled down at him. Closing his eyes, he felt the Lord of Lórien embrace him gently and then there was a sense of movement though he himself did not move.

"You may open your eyes now, Children," he heard Irmo say gently and when Laurendil complied he found himself inside a large conservatory.

The others all opened their own eyes and gazed around in wonder while the Valar looked on with amusement at their expressions of surprise. Ingil was also there and he addressed Vorondil and Marilla. "With your permission, I will watch over your son while you are... visiting. He will be safe with me."

Vorondil and Marilla both nodded and Vorondil handed the still sleeping ellon over to the Maia who cradled the child gently, softly murmuring something when Calaldundil started to stir, sending him back into sleep. Námo then gestured to the others.

"Shall we go? Lord Manwë is waiting for you."

Laurendil nodded and the others followed the three Valar out of the conservatory, down several hallways until they reached a door made of mithril and gold that opened silently at their approach. Inside, they found themselves in a small audience chamber perhaps only forty paces wide. The walls were made of nessamelda wood carved in low-relief depicting scenes of daily life in Aman. The floor was tiled in alternating squares of white marble and green malachite. Above, the ceiling was domed and painted a midnight blue with chips of diamonds embedded into it, forming the constellations one could see at midsummer. Opposite the entrance was a two-step dais upon which sat two intricately carved thrones made from the same nessamelda wood. However, the Elves’ gazes were drawn to the left of the throne dais where a group of comfortable chairs and a settee were arranged around a low table laden with food and drink. Sitting together on the settee were two Beings.

Manwë was clothed in an ankle-length tunic of deep blue silk with gold stars embroidered on the sleeves, hem and collar. A gold linked belt with a buckle in the shape of a star graced his middle while his head was crowned with an intricately wrought gold coronet with a single star sapphire set with in it.

Varda was clothed in a gown of shimmering pale blue figured silk over which she wore a white silk sleeveless surcoat with stars embroidered in gold thread running down the front of the bodice. Her usual wreath of living stars graced her head.

Standing behind them in attendance were two Maiar, Eönwë and Ilmarë.

The Elves made their obeisance and Manwë gestured to them. "Come and sit, Children," he said warmly and they complied, though Laurendil had a rather puzzled look on his face.

"But where is Findaráto?" he asked as he accepted a goblet of wine from Ilmarë who was serving them. "I thought we were being brought to him?"

Manwë nodded. "Eventually, my son," he said soothingly. "He does have other business to which he must attend before he can join us, but he will, never fear. Now, tell us your decision."

Laurendil gave the Elder King a considering look. "I think you already know what my decision is, lord," he said softly.

Manwë nodded. "Perhaps, but for the record," he glanced briefly behind him to Eönwë who nodded gravely before returning his attention to Laurendil, "we need to hear it from your own lips."

Laurendil stole a glance at his wife who smiled faintly, then looked at each of his three children, all of whom nodded. Finally he looked to Vorondil, whose expression for once was unreadable, a rarity for him, and Laurendil found that telling. He returned his gaze to the Elder King and the Elentári sitting serenely beside him and nodded. "I will go to Númenórë as thy Messenger, my lord, little good though I think it will do."

"Thou dost not know what good it will do, child," Manwë answered.

"And mayhap, thy message will be less important than thy presence," Námo added, sounding grave.

The Elves all stared at the Lord of Mandos in wonder. Vorondil then snorted. "And you’re not going to tell us why, are you?" he asked, giving the Vala a cheeky grin.

Námo effected an affronted air, though the older Elves could detect a glint of humor in the Vala’s eyes that the younger ones missed. Marilla gave a small gasp at her husband’s tone and her brothers looked upon their sister’s husband with something bordering on awe at his audacity.

"I never reveal my sources of information, you know that," Námo said in cold tones that made the snows of Taniquetil seem warm in comparison.

Manwë started laughing. "Not even to us," he said with a wink to the Elves, "so I doubt he’ll be any more forthcoming to you Children."

Laurendil shook his head. "I still don’t understand why me," he said with a sigh. "I truly have no wish to leave Aman... my family."

The others looked upon him with various degrees of sympathy. Manwë leaned forward. "As to that, my son," he said gently, "I think you must discover the reason for yourself. As much as we grieve to part you from your family at this time, we think it important that you go. More is at stake than you realize, though I will speak no further on it."

Vorondil then reached from where he was sitting on the other side of Manwen and placed a hand on his father-in-law’s knee. "I know how difficult it is for you, Atar, to contemplate going to Númenórë after Eärnur died there, but I truly believe you need to go. You need to find closure and Eärnur will need to believe that his death was not a cause of bitterness on your part."

"But it was," Laurendil exclaimed. "His death was unnecessary and... and uncalled-for." He gave Námo an accusing scowl.

Námo merely gazed at the Elf with a serene air. "Child, I do not cause death, I am merely Eru’s instrument in caring for the fëar who come to me. Your complaint must be addressed to a Higher Authority than I or even Manwë."

Laurendil went pale at the mild reprimand and began stammering an apology but was forestalled by the doors of the chamber opening and Findaráto walking in. He stopped just inside the doors and made his obeisance to the Valar before continuing into the room. He was smiling but it faded when he sensed the tense atmosphere.

"What’s wrong?" he asked quietly, looking first to Manwë and then to Laurendil for an answer.

Laurendil reddened under Findaráto’s regard and kept his gaze on his lap. Findaráto’s own gaze swept across the assemblage. The Elves were clearly distraught and the Valar were clearly not. He gave Eönwë a glance and saw the thin smile on the Maia’s face. When the silence continued longer than it should have, he scowled.

"Do I have to play at asking questions here? Laurendil?" His tone of voice was that of the King of Nargothrond and long habit made Laurendil respond to it without thought.

The ellon straightened and gazed directly at Findaráto. "I was voicing my bitterness at the needless death of one I loved as a brother, aranya."

Findaráto raised an eyebrow at the terse and formal manner in which Laurendil spoke as if he were giving his king a report on the latest patrols in Dorthonion. He nodded, more to himself than to anyone there as he took a vacant chair and accepted a goblet of wine from Ilmarë, thanking her with a smile. For a moment he pondered his friend’s words, taking a sip of the wine before speaking.

"No death is needless, Laurendil," he finally said. "Having died myself, I think I can speak from experience." This last was said somewhat dryly and Námo actually chuckled.

Laurendil had a stricken look on his face and he began stammering an apology again, but Findaráto merely held up a hand. "Peace, Amborondanya," he said. "Long have I wished that I could ease this bitterness that resides within you over what happened to Eärnur, but that is something you need to deal with yourself. It is one reason I think you need to do this."

Manwen brushed the back of her hand on Laurendil’s cheek. "Findaráto is correct, beloved."

Laurendil reached up and took her hand, pressing a kiss in her palm. "I know," he whispered, sounding forlorn.

Vorondil sighed then. "I still wish I could go with you, Atar," he said, "but I know that Master and Lord Námo won’t allow it." He then cast a wicked grin Laurendil’s way. "So, could you bring me back a present?" he asked using the same tone of voice his own son used on his grandfather whenever the ellon wanted something from him.

The others all laughed, Laurendil laughing the loudest. He reached over and held Vorondil’s face between his hands and gave him a kiss on the brow. "I’ll see what I can do," he whispered with a grin and Vorondil grinned back.

Manwë nodded, pleased that the atmosphere had lightened. "Now that that is settled, let us discuss what our message will be and to whom it will be given. Then we will take you to Tol Eressëa where your ship is even now being readied."

Laurendil nodded as he gave the Elder King his attention. "I am thy servant in all things, lord," he said formally.

The Elves then listened while Manwë spoke. At some point while the Elder King was giving Laurendil his instructions, Ingil entered with a still sleeping Calaldundil and gently placed him in Laurendil’s arms at Vorondil and Marilla’s quiet insistence. Laurendil continued to listen to Manwë’s words with a contented smile on his face as he gently rocked his grandson.

****

All words are Quenya.

Ampano Arano: The King’s Grove, literally, "Wooden Hall of the King".

Nessamelda: "Nessa-beloved"; a type of tree.

Elentári: Queen of Stars, a title of Varda.