31: Fana Nírion

Vorondil was up before dawn. Aldundil, though he wanted to sleep in, felt obligated to get up with his son and try to keep him quiet. Ingwion refused to leave his bedroll until Anar was actually visible in the sky.

“One of the privileges of being a prince,” he said to Aldundil as he poured some tea into a metal cup, “is that people expect you to be lazy. Atar says I take advantage of everyone else’s misperceptions.” He gave Aldundil a wink and the Noldo smiled.

“I had quite a time keeping Vorondil from physically rolling you out of your blankets,” he said drolly.

Ingwion nearly snorted his tea. “I appreciate you restraining your son,” he said, giving Vorondil a hard look. The ellon appeared suitably chastened. “It would have been quite dangerous for him.”

Vorondil looked confused but Aldundil just nodded. “Vorondil is still unaware how dangerous it is to waken a warrior,” he said.

“Even you?” Ingwion asked.

Aldundil’s smile was somewhat wry. “I learned early on not to react to an elfling jumping on my stomach at the break of dawn.”

Ingwion laughed. “I know what you mean.”

By now, Vorondil was getting tired of being ignored. “Can we go now, Atto?” he whined. “I want to find out where the trails go.”

The two older elves exchanged appraising looks and nodded. “Yes, yonya,” Aldundil said, “we can go now. Lead the way.”

Vorondil didn’t quite yell his delight but he came close as he grabbed the map and rather imperiously ordered his elders to follow him. His elders chuckled and did as they were bid.

****

“Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” Ingwion asked Vorondil after they had been walking for half the morning. “I thought the map said we were to head south of east, but we are definitely heading due east.”

“We’ve been following the trail,” Vorondil said a little uncertainly. “See?” He pointed to the path which was discernible even in the high grass that surrounded them. They were in the midst of a meadow strewn with wildflowers of every imaginable shade of yellow and blue. To the north and south the meadow continued across a rolling plain until it met forests. Behind them was their camp and the ocean. Due east though....

“I don’t recall there being hills to the east,” Ingwion insisted. “We’re practically heading towards Lórien.”

“Are you sure?” Aldundil asked, looking over his son’s shoulder to check the map. “Our camp is south of  Lady Nienna’s. According to this map, we should actually be in the vicinity of Mandos.”

Vorondil went pale at that. “M-mandos?” he whispered fearfully, staring at his atar.

Aldundil smiled encouragingly at him and gave him a hug and a kiss on his brow. “Fear not, yonya. I have been told that no one can find the entrance who has not been invited by its lord. We are safe enough.”

Vorondil looked mollified. “So do we continue following the trail?”

Aldundil and Ingwion looked at each other and shrugged. “Might as well,” Ingwion said with a smile. “It’s not as if we have a pressing engagement elsewhere.”

Aldundil chuckled and they set off again. They followed the path across the meadow to the hills, which were even higher than they first thought. The hills were dark with pine, looming over the plain. The path wound its way between them and the elves felt an oppressive weight bearing down on them, for the atmosphere was brooding and seemed to smother them. This was not a place visited by the Eldar and Aldundil wondered aloud if anyone had ever come this way before.

“I don’t know why they would,” Ingwion opined.

“Yet someone made this trail,” Aldundil pointed out.

To that Ingwion had no answer. Vorondil didn’t care. He stayed close to his atar’s side, not liking these hills at all. “Maybe we should turn back,” he suggested timidly.

“What’s that sound?” Ingwion asked suddenly, stopping so abruptly that Vorondil actually ran right into him. The prince merely grabbed the ellon to hold him steady, too intent on identifying the strange sound to reprimand the youngster.

The other two listened intently. “It sounds familiar but I cannot place it,” Aldundil said. “I wish I had my sword.”

Ingwion gave him a feral smile. “So do I, but since neither of us has a weapon... Vorondil, stay close to your atto. I’ll scout ahead.”

With that, the prince moved away, disappearing around a bend in the path. For several tense minutes Vorondil and Aldundil remained still, both of them sighing with relief when they saw Ingwion coming back, waving them forward. It took only a minute for them to join the Vanya and then he led them further into the hills. The path began to climb and they were treading a narrow ridge. It rose somewhat steeply but was still climbable. As they moved further up the incline the sound, a sort of rushing noise, grew steadily louder until it was deafening. And then they came around a bend and found that their trail simply stopped. That didn’t concern them too much for they were rooted where they were in awe.

Before them was a waterfall plunging into a steep-sided valley which was mostly invisible for the mist hiding it. Several rainbows danced in the spray and birds flew through them on business of their own. Almost by mutual consent the three elves sat on the lip of the ledge overlooking the valley and gazed silently at the scene. Vorondil watched the birds, mostly blue-wings with a few black-crested yellow-wings, doing an aerial dance among the rainbows. Their songs were unheard over the roar of the falls, but that hardly mattered; the ellon was simply enthralled by them.

Ingwion found himself gazing, not at the falls, but down into the mist-shrouded valley, wondering what might be down there and how could one reach it. Aldundil, truth be told, was staring at the endless rush of the waters in rising horror. He was remembering another waterfall in a different time and place and the memory was not pleasant. Suddenly, he stood and was nearly running back along their trail. If either Ingwion or Vorondil called to him he didn’t hear. He only knew he had to get away, that something terrible would happen if he didn’t, though what it might be he could not have said.

He stopped abruptly when he felt someone grab him from behind and started screaming, crouching and wrapping his arms around himself. He was far enough away from the falls to become aware of other sounds again.

“Aldundil! Aldundil!”

He heard his name but could not make any connection to it. All was terror and darkness and he could only crouch there and scream. Arms wrapped themselves around him and he felt someone rocking him and crooning something unintelligible. Slowly the rocking brought him to a sense of calm and his screaming slowed, though he did not come out of his crouch, nor did he open his eyes.

“It’s all right, otorno.” He recognized Ingwion’s voice whispering in his ear. “All is well. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

Over and over again the prince spoke soothingly to him and finally the wave of terror that had nearly overwhelmed him ebbed and he felt himself unwinding slowly from his fear-driven position.

“I...is Atto going to be all right?” he heard someone ask and it took him a moment to recognize his own son’s voice.

“I think so,” he heard Ingwion say. “I want you to go further down the trail and see if you can find a level place for us to set up a temporary camp. Your atto has had a shock and we need to make a fire.”

Indeed, now that he was feeling more lucid Aldundil realized that he was shaking like a leaf in a storm and he couldn’t seem to stop. Ingwion continued holding him, rocking him, refusing to let him go and Aldundil was grateful. He thought that without the prince’s support he would shatter into a million pieces.

Movement alerted him of Vorondil’s return. “There’s a level place just a few hundred paces away,” he heard his son say. “And there is plenty of deadfall.”

“Very good,” Ingwion said. “Go and build a fire pit. You remember how? Excellent. I’ll bring your atto shortly. He just needs a little more time.”

Aldundil heard Vorondil move away and then Ingwion was standing and forcing him to stand as well. “Open your eyes, Aldundil,” he heard the prince command in a tone that brooked no argument. “I have no intention of leading you. Vorondil is putting together a fire. It’s a few hundred paces further on. Come, let us go find your son.”

Aldundil slowly opened his eyes and as soon as he did, Ingwion began dragging him along, forcing him to start walking. “There you are,” Ingwion said with an encouraging smile. “It’s just a little further. In fact, I see that Vorondil has gotten a fire started already. Findaráto taught him well.”

“I... I could never go camping,” Aldundil whispered hoarsely. “He wanted to go so badly when he was younger and I couldn’t... I couldn’t....” He felt himself beginning to weep and Ingwion held him tighter.

“It’s all right, Aldundil,” Ingwion said soothingly. “Now come and sit by the fire. You’ll feel better.” He led the still weeping ellon toward the fire and forced him to sit on a log that Vorondil had pushed near the pit. Someone began rubbing his arms, warming him, but he neither knew who nor cared. Slowly, his tears abated and a sense of calm uncaring stole over him. Only when he opened his eyes did he realize that it had been Vorondil rubbing his arms. Of Ingwion there was no sign.

“Where’s Ingwion?” he asked hoarsely.

Vorondil pointed westward. “He said he would return shortly. Are you thirsty?”

Aldundil nodded. “Yes.” He started fumbling for his waterskin but Vorondil merely handed him his and Aldundil gave him a weak smile in gratitude. After he had had his fill he gave Vorondil a measuring look. “Are you well, yonya?”

“I’m fine, Atto. It’s you who’s not. Why did you run away?” There was no sense of condemnation in the ellon’s tone, only curiosity mixed with worry.

Aldundil sighed. “I... I don’t think I can talk about it at the moment.”

“But soon. You will speak of it soon.”

They both looked up to see Ingwion approaching, holding several leaves of a plant that Aldundil recognized as asëa aranion. He nodded reluctantly. Ingwion crouched in front of him. “I know this is difficult for you, meldonya, but I think you need to speak of this. We won’t pressure you, but perhaps it’s time.”

“I’m sorry....” Aldundil started to apologize but Ingwion held up a hand to forestall him.

“Apologies are unnecessary.” He stood up. “Come. Let us put out this fire and return to our camp. I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one day.”

There were no arguments about that.

*****

It was a quiet evening all around. Aldundil barely spoke. Vorondil was subdued as well and spent most of the evening casting worried glances at his atar. Ingwion kept a silent watch on them both, placing the asëa aranion in some hot water and then insisting that the other ellyn drink some of the infusion. He took a sip or two himself and felt immensely better for it.

“Are we going to follow one of the other trails tomorrow?” Vorondil finally asked in a hesitant voice. He was concerned about his atto but he also wanted to find out where the other trails led. Coming upon the waterfall and seeing the birds had been so exciting. He had wanted to talk about it as they returned to their camp but was afraid of hurting his atto so he stayed silent. Still, he couldn’t help wondering if the other trails led to interesting places as well.

Ingwion cast a look at Aldundil. “Are you up to it, otorno?”

“What?” Aldundil said, coming out of his reverie and realizing he’d been asked a question. “Oh, yes. Of course. Who gets to choose?”

“Why don’t you choose our trail for tomorrow?” Ingwion suggested and Vorondil nodded enthusiastically, handing the map to Aldundil.

****

The next morning Aldundil appeared calmer. Ingwion had feared that night terrors might haunt the warrior but the night had been blessedly peaceful thanks to the asëa aranion. Now Aldundil and Vorondil were looking at the map.

“Which trail have you decided we should take today?” Ingwion asked, smiling at the two ellyn.

“This path here heads north,” Aldundil said, pointing at the map. “I thought to go that way.”

“Then let us do so,” Ingwion said and in a few minutes they were off.

Unlike yesterday’s trail, this one did not meander as much but went as directly north as the topography allowed. Ahead of them they could see a dark forest but the trail skirted it, bending towards the west before actually plunging into the woods of ancient oaks and redwoods. The three of them stood in silent awe, looking upward at the majestic trees with their young leaves of spring green offering them gentle shade. A carpet of last year’s leaves covered the ground which crackled and swished with their passing, or rather Vorondil’s passing. He deliberately walked heavily just for the fun of it while Ingwion and Aldundil moved along the trail silently, leaving no sign of their passing.

“To think that these trees were ancient before we ever came to these shores,” Ingwion said in a quiet voice.

“It almost seems impossible to imagine their age,” Aldundil said. “I can understand better why the Valar often call us children.”

“That’s not why they call us that, Atto,” Vorondil said, surprising the two older elves, when he stopped to address them.

“Oh?” Aldundil gave his son an enquiring look.

Vorondil nodded. “Master says they call us that to remind us and them that we are indeed Ilúvatar’s Children and therefore beloved by the Valar for that reason alone and for no other. Master says it’s not an insult but an affirmation of who and what we are before the eyes of Eru.”

Ingwion and Aldundil exchanged surprised looks. “I knew my cousin was wise, I did not realize just how wise he truly is,” Ingwion said.

Aldundil nodded. “Prince Findaráto is... special and I am grateful that he has taken an interest in our well being, mine and Vorondil’s.”

“I miss Master,” Vorondil said sadly. “When will I be able to see him again, do you know? I bet he’s gotten all his tunics creased. He can’t fold a tunic correctly to save his life.”

“But you can?” Ingwion asked with a smile.

Vorondil nodded. “Though I had to ask Lady Manwen first how to do it properly,” he admitted shyly.

“I’m sure you’ll be seeing Findaráto soon,” Aldundil said, putting an arm around his son's shoulders. “Now, why don’t we see where this trail leads to, shall we?”

With that they set out again, following the path that now seemed to head in a more easterly direction though it was difficult to tell because the sky was almost hidden by the massive trees and Anar was invisible to them. At one point they stopped to rest and have a light repast before moving on. The forest continued to surround them but it did not have the same threatening feeling that the pine-forested hills had had, though the ground began to rise precipitously into cliffs and soon they found themselves walking through a gorge. A distant vibration began to be felt under their feet and they stopped to exchange concerned looks.

“You don’t suppose....?” Aldundil said faintly, looking a bit pale.

Ingwion shook his head. “I don’t know. We can turn back if you wish,” he suggested. “No one even said we had to take any of these trails.”

Aldundil grimaced. “We’re here. We might as well see it to the end.”

The other two ellyn nodded and they continued on. The defile wound along, the trail rising towards the cliff tops at one point and then plunging suddenly down. They had to go carefully to avoid slipping over the edge. The further they went the louder the sound and now they were sure that ahead lay a waterfall, but if it were the same as the one from yesterday, they did not know.

Without warning the gorge debouched upon a mist-shrouded valley where a stream ran quickly away to the south. All around them were huge boulders and they were forced to go around them until they finally found themselves looking up at the very same waterfall they had seen the day before. This time, however, there was no sense of awe in any of them. Both Vorondil and Ingwion stood close to Aldundil, fearing the sight of the cascade would send him running again.

Yet, Aldundil did not run. Instead, he just stood there with his mouth open, staring upward. The terror he had felt the day before was not there. Instead, a sense of calm inevitability stole over him and he somehow knew that his death was waiting for him in this vale. It had awaited him in a similar vale an ocean away. He’d cheated death that day, but now it was time to pay for his stupidity, the very stupidity that had gotten his beloved brother killed.

He sank to his knees, his face still turned upward, but now his eyes were closed, tears running down his face. Yes. It was time to pay for his mistakes... all of them. He’d only been fooling himself, telling himself that it didn’t matter, that all was forgiven, but that wasn’t true. It had never been true.

He felt hands tugging at him on both sides, forcing him to stand. He did not resist, for no doubt they had come for him. Who exactly ‘they’ were, he couldn’t say and it was too much effort to open his eyes to find out. Instead, he went meekly wherever he was led and after a time the deafening roar of the falls lessened and he could hear again.

“... won’t he open his eyes?” he heard someone say.

“I don’t know, Vorondil, but I want him as far from here as we can get. This place is proving detrimental to your atar.”

Aldundil continued to walk with his eyes closed, not really caring, but eventually his companions halted him and forced him to sit down on a log. “Aldundil, open your eyes.”

The command was given in a voice that was hard to ignore. With a sigh, he complied, blinking in the dim light filtering down from the top of the gorge. They had not gone too far from the vale he noticed. Looking back along the trail he could see the entrance into the valley shrouded with mist. He turned his attention closer to home to see Ingwion on his left and Vorondil kneeling by his right knee. Both of them had concerned looks.

“Are you well, Atto?” Vorondil asked, unable to keep the worry out of his voice.

Aldundil ran a hand through the ellon’s locks. They were no longer bleached he noticed and they were definitely longer than before. He tried to smile but wasn’t sure how successful he was. Then he looked up at Ingwion standing before him, his expression dark with some emotion that the Noldo could not name.

“My death lies in that vale,” Aldundil said quietly, without emotion.

Vorondil gasped in dismay. Ingwion merely looked into Aldundil’s eyes, probing his very fëa. Aldundil never flinched, knowing the truth of his words. Finally Ingwion nodded. “You may well be right,” he said.

Vorondil, however, would not hear of it. “No!” he shouted half in fear and half in anger, standing to glare at his atar. “I don’t believe you! You’re not going to die. If anyone deserves to die, it’s I!” With that he turned and ran back toward the vale of the waterfall.

“Vorondil!” Aldundil shouted, suddenly afraid, not for himself, but for his impetuous son. Without bothering to wait for Ingwion, he ran after Vorondil and soon both of them were swallowed by the mist. Ingwion ran after them, muttering under his breath, invoking not only the Valar but Ilúvatar as well, praying that neither father nor son would do anything stupid in the meantime.

He was unaware of Eönwë standing unclad at the head of the vale calmly recording his oath.

****

Fana Nírion: Veil of Tears. The name of a waterfall in Valinor.