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Fiondil's Tapestry  by Fiondil

BEGGAR: ‘Anno ammen sír...’

SUMMARY: Elu Thingol arrives in Mandos.

****

Námo, Lord of Mandos, sat patiently upon his stone-carved throne, waiting for Elu Thingol, once King of Doriath, to awaken. He held his chin in his left hand as he watched the Sinda slowly come to. Given the nature of the ellon’s death and the reason behind it, Námo had decided to place the king’s fëa into a healing sleep before Elu even had time to register the fact that he was dead. Now the erstwhile king was awakening and Námo was curious to see what his reaction would be.

He did not have to wait long.

Elu found himself staring up at a ceiling that did not look too dissimilar to the ceilings of Menegroth, but there was a subtle ‘wrongness’ to it that he could not quite define. "Melian," he called, and was appalled at how weak his voice sounded.

He shook his head and started to rise, stopping as he realized that he was not alone. He blinked stupidly, trying to give a name to the face of the one gazing at him in silent regard. Searching far back into memory he dimly recalled the first time he met the Belain — all of them. He had been awestruck at the Light of the Two Trees and the shining Beings before whom he, Ingwë and Finwë had been brought. Each of the Belain had introduced him- or herself, beginning with Hîr Manweg and ending with....

"No!" he exclaimed, climbing to his feet, swaying slightly.

"Easy now," Námo said solicitously, putting a hand out to steady the ellon and giving him a slight smile. "Welcome to Mandos, Elu."

Elu stared at the Vala seated before him, his gaze calm yet penetrating. "H-hîr Bannoth," he stuttered.

"The same," Námo said, "though in truth that is merely the name of my... kingdom. I am known here as Hîr Námo, but you may call me what you wish."

Elu shook his head, still trying to come to terms with what was happening. He found his legs would not support him and he sat heavily on the edge of the couch from which he had just risen. Then memory of his final moments of Life flashed before him.

"Melian!" he cried. "What happened...."

"Peace, Elu," Námo said. "Melyanna is well. She returned recently to Aman and walks again under the eaves of Lórien, though she no longer dances." He gave the Sinda a sympathetic look. "Perhaps some day you and she will meet again."

Elu stared at Námo in confusion. "Returned? Why did she return? Who... who rules Doriath now?" The thought of his people ruled by another’s hand brought anguish to his heart that was almost too painful to bear.

"No one," Námo said.

"What!?" Elu cried, springing up. "What meanest thou?" he demanded angrily, purposely using the familiar form of address as if speaking to one of his subordinates. "Speak plainly, Balan, for my patience with thee is growing thin."

Silence stretched between them for an eternal moment before Námo spoke. "Sit down, Elu," he said quietly but with great authority. The elf found himself obeying. "And mind your manners. You are no longer in your court and I am not one of your subjects. In point of fact, you are now one of mine."

Elu continued sitting in silence, refusing to offer an apology. Was he not a king, the first and, quite frankly as far as he was concerned, the only king of Beleriand? He refused to acknowledge even to himself the legitimacy of the kingdoms carved by the Lechenn invaders, though perhaps he could accept his great-nephew’s kingship. Finrod had been... special and less haughty than his uncles and the Fëanorionnath. Still....

"What about Celeborn?" he asked with less belligerence. "Surely he should be ruling...."

"No one rules in Doriath," Námo said, "for Doriath is no more."

Elu could only stare at the Vala in disbelief. "How can that be? The Girdle...."

"When your wife deserted Doriath, her enchantments failed, leaving it unprotected from invasion."

Now Elu grew angry again. "How dare you claim Melian deserted her people... our people!" he said, standing to face the Vala. "She would never...."

"But she did," Námo said calmly. "She did not even stay long enough to see your grandson, Dior, take your scepter and crown."

The ellon blinked. "Dior? He became king?"

Námo nodded. "For a little while," he answered.

"Wh-what happened?" Elu asked, sitting down again, his anger fled and replaced by a gnawing fear.

Námo sighed. He had been dreading this part. Elu had grown haughty over the years and over-confident in the efficacy of his wife’s powers. Yet, Doriath’s eventual fall had to be laid at Elu’s feet and no other. His arrogance towards Beren had opened the way for Fëanáro’s Oath to corrupt Elu’s heart and ultimately doom his kingdom.

"Celegorm and Curufin happened," he finally said and allowed Elu time to make the necessary connection.

"The... the Nauglamír," Elu whispered, closing his eyes.

"Yes. After your... death," — Elu flinched slightly at that — "Beren and the elves of Tol Galen intercepted the Dwarves and destroyed them, recovering the Nauglamír, which Beren claimed for himself. Unfortunately, the presence of the Silmaril hastened his and Lúthien’s death."

Elu cringed even more, his expression one of deep sorrow for the daughter he would never see again.

"Thereafter," Námo continued, "the Nauglamír was sent back to Doriath, but Celegorm learned of this and demanded that the Silmaril be returned to him. Naturally, Dior refused and so a time came when the Fëanorionnath fell upon your kingdom and destroyed it."

"Dior....?" Elu asked in rising horror.

Námo shook his head. "He sleeps now in my Halls along with his wife and sons. Elwing alone escaped, as did Celeborn and Galadriel."

Elu could only sit there in shock, speaking as if to himself. "We were to rule for all the ages of Arda she told me... for all the ages...."

"Doriath onen aran," Námo said coldly, "ardh uireb sa ú-onen."

Elu looked up at those words and Námo could see tears running down the king’s cheeks. "It was my fault, wasn’t it? I’m responsible for... for destroying my kingdom... my people."

"No, Elu," Námo said gently. "You are not. Celegorm, Curufin and Caranthir were, though they failed to recover the Silmaril. In fact, they died. You, however are responsible for letting your own arrogance get in the way of your wisdom when it came to Beren. That was pure foolishness on your part, and it eventually cost you your life."

Elu sighed and nodded, recognizing the truth of Námo’s words. "Yes, I was indeed foolish," he admitted.

"Finally," Námo said almost to himself.

Elu raised an eyebrow at that, then nodded again. "So, what happens now, lord?" he asked in a more contrite voice.

Námo stood, looming over the king. "Now, Elu Thingol, thy Judgment is at hand," he intoned gravely as he touched Elu’s brow with a forefinger.

And so it was.

When it was done and Elu Thingol was once again asleep, drifting slowly towards forgetfulness, Námo looked up at Morinehtar, the Maia whom Námo had appointed to guard Elu’s sleep. "Now to let Melyanna know," he said. Morinehtar bowed to his lord even as Námo faded from view.

****

All words and phrases are Sindarin.

‘Anno ammen sír...’:‘Give to us today...’. Taken from Tolkien’s translation of the Lord’s Prayer into Sindarin. See Vinyar Tengwar 44/21-22.

Belain: Valar. The singular is Balan.

Hîr: Lord.

Manweg: Manwë.

Bannoth: Námo/Mandos.

Lechenn: Plural of Lachenn: A Sindarin name for the Noldor. Literally, ‘flame-eyed ones’.

Doriath onen aran, ardh uireb sa ú-onen: ‘Doriath was given a king — an eternal reign it was not given’. This is adapted from a line from a Sumerian poem known as the Ur Lamentation: ‘Ur was granted kingship — an eternal reign it was not granted’.





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