17: Crossing Eldamar

My thoughts as we made our way across Eldamar to Tirion were jumbled and confused and I hardly knew how to react or what to think. I could sense the discomfort and concern of the two who were my parents, as well as the puzzlement of the one whom I later learned was my betrothed, but I had no way to relieve them either of their discomfort or their puzzlement. So, I spent the time gazing out at the scenery rolling by. It was familiar, but not, and I spent much of the time comparing what I saw to what I remembered of my (to me) real home in Beleriand. I was a stranger in a strange land that was nonetheless my home and I felt lost....

****

The road from Lórien wended its way across the plains of Eldamar and the carriage and its escort went quite swiftly, though it would still take them some days to reach Tirion. Hours rolled by with the landscape in which little was said within the carriage. Finrod was at a loss as to what to say anyway to these people and so ignored them, leaning against the window to look out. At some point, though, he sat back and closed his eyes, giving a sigh, feeling suddenly drained. He felt his atar put an arm around him and draw him closer. He started to resist at the unfamiliar (yet so familiar!) touch but then allowed it.

"We will not reach Tirion for some time yet," Arafinwë said softly. "Why don’t you sleep, hinya? I will wake you when we stop."

Finrod gave another sigh and snuggled further into his atar’s embrace, allowing himself to drift, though he could hear the whispered conversation between his parents and Amarië, who seemed to Finrod to be more upset than the others.

"Why does he sleep with his eyes closed?" he heard her say. "You would think he were an elfling or ill."

"He’s just very tired, dear," Eärwen said in a gently scolding voice. "It has to be very traumatic for him to be here."

"Eärwen is correct, child," Arafinwë said. "We were warned that Findaráto would probably sleep much of the time until he has readjusted to his new surroundings."

"How can they possibly be new?" Amarië complained. "He used to live here, after all."

"Yet, we have been told that he might not have any memory of his life here," Eärwen said, her voice sad, "at least not initially, so everything will be new to him at first."

"Hmph," was Amarië’s only response and Finrod almost smiled at the put-upon tone of her voice.

"We must be patient, child," Arafinwë said, "and take things slowly. This is all new to us, as well, don’t forget."

If there was any more of the conversation after that, Finrod did not hear, having slipped onto the Path of Dreams by then.

****

The absence of movement woke him and he blinked blearily around, trying to remember where he was. He’d been dreaming, he knew, of hunting with his cousins Maedhros and Maglor. It had been a pleasant dream and he was loath to waken from it.

"Where are we?" he said, for it was now dark out and that surprised him, for he did not think he had slept so long. He was alone in the carriage with his atar, who still held him in his embrace.

"Come," Arafinwë said. "We’ll show you." With that, he opened the carriage door and stepped out. Finrod followed him and found, not the expected city, but an encampment of several pavilions all lit up. He gazed about in wonder. Arafinwë smiled at him. "The road to Tirion is quite long," he said, "so we will spend the night here. Are you hungry? I see supper is ready."

Arafinwë led Finrod towards a campfire where he now saw his ammë and Amarië sitting. The two ellith looked up and Eärwen smiled. "Did you sleep well, dear?"

Finrod nodded. "I was dreaming of hunting with Maedhros and Maglor," he said, automatically slipping into Sindarin.

"What did he say?" Amarië demanded, her expression one of exasperation. "What nonsense is he spouting?"

"Hush, child," Arafinwë replied somewhat sharply. He turned to Finrod who stood there looking bemused. "You have to remember to speak Quenya, son," he said gently with a smile and Finrod blushed.

"Sorry," he said, looking at his feet in embarrassment. "I keep forgetting."

"That’s all right," Arafinwë said. "I’m afraid I learned little of Sindarin save for a few important phrases necessary to issue orders."

Now Finrod looked up, clearly puzzled by Arafinwë’s words. His atar nodded. "I finally went to Endórë," he said quietly. "I was there during the war."

Finrod’s eyes widened. "Oh, yes. They told us about it."

"So, what were you saying, dear?" Eärwen asked.

"Oh, I just said I was dreaming about going hunting with... Mae... er... I mean Maitimo and Macalaurë."

"In Endórë?" Arafinwë asked.

Finrod nodded. "We were hunting in the forests south of Himring, Maitimo’s stronghold."

"I am surprised that you continued to have anything to do with your cousins, after what they and Fëanáro did," Arafinwë said, looking somewhat grim.

Finrod shrugged. "We made our peace," was all he could think to say. Indeed, he still had little memory of the early days of the Noldor’s flight from Valinor. His memories of later times were more secure.

"Well, come and sit by me," Eärwen said, "and have some supper. You must be starving, as we did not wake you for the noon meal, deciding to let you sleep instead."

Finrod complied with his ammë’s wish and soon he was spooning up a hearty stew, enjoying its rich meaty taste. Even though he had been re-embodied for quite some time now, he still reveled in the sensations which different foods evoked in him. He hoped that they would be serving porridge for breakfast in the morning.

They had stopped in the early evening and now the night was completely dark with stars blooming above them, gazing down upon them with cold serenity. Finrod finished his meal and gazed fondly up at them as he sipped on some wine his atar gave him. All this while, the others had kept their silence, letting him enjoy his meal in peace, but now Arafinwë spoke.

"We made better time than I thought we would," he said. Finrod forced himself to look at his atar rather than the stars. "We will probably make Eldamas sometime late tomorrow and will spend the night there."

"Eldamas," Finrod repeated slowly, as if tasting the feel of the word on his tongue.

"The town built by those who serve the Valar in their city of Valmar," Arafinwë explained. "We will enter through the western gate, so we’ll see Ezellohar and the Máhanaxar...."

Finrod gasped and suddenly stood up. "No!" he shouted and started running, though where he thought he was going, even he could not have said. Before he had gotten too far, though, arms encircled him and held him close. He struggled, screaming, not really sure what need drove him, only that he was in the grip of some inchoate fear to which he could give no name.

"Finda! Finda! Hush, child. It’s all right. Shhh.... be still."

The words made little sense to him, but the tone, gentle and loving, spoke to his fëa and he felt himself stilling, collapsing into his atar’s embrace, for he now realized that was who held him. He was trembling and could not seem to stop. Arafinwë brought him back to the fire and settled him beside Eärwen who threw a blanket and her arms around her son.

"Are you all right, love?" she asked tenderly, rocking him gently, but Finrod could only shake his head. His trembling had lessened but he still felt cold within himself. He felt his atar sitting beside him.

"Drink this, yonya," he said, thrusting a cup under his nose. Finrod opened his mouth automatically and drank what turned out to be tea. Its warmth spread through his body and he felt himself calming, taking the cup from his atar after one or two sips and slowly drinking the contents, savoring the smell of apples that rose with the steam.

"What was that all about?" Amarië suddenly asked. "Why did he run off like that?"

"I don’t know, dear," Eärwen answered. "Why don’t we wait until he’s calmer to ask him." The reproof, mildly spoken though it was, was enough to still the elleth’s tongue, for which Finrod was grateful. He was not sure who Amarië was, but he knew he didn’t like her all that much.

When he had finished with his tea, Arafinwë took the cup. "Would you like to tell us about it?" he asked, rubbing Finrod’s back. "Do you know why you ran?"

Finrod shook his head. "No. I... I was just suddenly afraid, but I don’t know why. I... I think it was something you said but...."

"I was describing our route tomorrow," Arafinwë replied, his brows furrowed in thought, then he gave a grunt of disgust and shook his head. "I’m sorry, child. I did not think."

"What....?" Finrod asked in confusion, but his atar just leaned over and kissed him gently on the forehead.

"It’s not important," he answered. "Would you like to retire? We have a pavilion set up...."

"Actually, I would like to sit out here and watch the stars," Finrod said, then gave them a shy look. "I... I like looking at the stars."

For a moment no one spoke. Finrod had the feeling, watching his parents eye one another, that they were in silent communication about him, but he did not really care. Finally, though, his atar looked at him. "Do you mind if I sit here with you and watch the stars?" he asked.

Finrod shook his head. "No. I don’t mind. I would enjoy having you watch the stars with me."

Arafinwë smiled. "Then, that is what we will do." He stood and walked away, issuing some orders to the guards to which Finrod paid no heed. His ammë gave him a hug and a kiss and wished him a good night, then stood and firmly led a protesting Amarië away.

"I don’t see why I can’t stay up with them," he heard her saying, her tone petulant, as the two left the fireside. If his ammë said anything to that, Finrod did not hear, having shut out everything around him except for the stars. He could feel them welcoming him and he trusted them before anything or anyone else, for they were his first friends. They never disappointed and they never judged.

When Arafinwë returned to the fire, Finrod reluctantly turned his gaze from the stars. "Who is Amarië?" he asked suddenly. "I don’t like her very much."

Arafinwë sighed as he sat next to his son. "You do not remember her?"

Finrod shook his head. "I thought at first she was Galadriel," he answered, forgetting to use his sister’s Quenya name, yet his atar seemed to understand of whom he spoke for he nodded.

"Understandable. Amarië was once your betrothed." he said and Finrod felt his eyebrows leave his head but forbore from speaking as Arafinwë continued. "She has been living with us all these years, waiting for your return."

"I don’t remember," Finrod confessed with a sigh. "Did I love her?" He couldn’t imagine loving anyone so petulant as she, but maybe he had been a different person back then. With his memories so fractured, anything was possible.

"Yes, you did," Arafinwë replied, "but I wouldn’t worry about it right now. Perhaps as your memories return you will learn to love her all over again."

"I don’t see how," Finrod retorted. "She doesn’t seem very... friendly."

"I’m afraid Amarië is just confused and frustrated," his atar said. "She has waited all this time for you to return to us and she thinks everything will be as it was before."

"But it’s not," Finrod said. "I died. Nothing can be the same after that."

Arafinwë gave him a considering look. "Some things never change, though, including our love for you."

Finrod sighed and gazed back into the night sky, smiling at his friends, then he gave his atar a shy look. "Would you like me to tell you their names?" he asked. "Olórin and Tindomerel taught them to me."

Arafinwë stared at his son for a moment or two, his expression unreadable to the younger Elf. Then he smiled and wrapped an arm around Finrod’s shoulders. "Yes, I would like that very much, yonya. Thank you."

Finrod allowed himself to relax in his atar’s embrace and pointed up. "That’s Carnil, and over there is Alcarinquë and that one is ...."

****

Dawn found the two still sitting by the fire, not speaking, but simply enjoying each other’s company as the encampment woke to a new day. One of the guards came over with some firewood and stoked up the fire, and then began preparing breakfast. Finrod was disappointed that no porridge was made, but said nothing, thinking it would be impolite and petty of him to complain. Instead, he rose from his chair and stretched, his atar following him.

"Why don’t you and I freshen up?" Arafinwë said. "Then we’ll have some breakfast and be on our way."

Finrod nodded and followed Arafinwë to the pavilion that had been set aside for the royal family where they found his ammë already up. Of Amarië, there was no sign and Finrod was grateful. Eärwen smiled at them and gave them each a brief kiss.

"We’re going to freshen up," Arafinwë explained, "and then we will join you for breakfast. Amarië is still sleeping?"

Eärwen shook her head. "No, she’s dressing. She’ll be out shortly."

Arafinwë nodded, then turned to his son. "Come along, yonya. I had your things put over here."

Finrod followed him behind a tapestried curtain and found himself in what had been intended as his bedroom, for there was a single cot and a low camp table beside it. In one corner was a basin and ewer on another table. His belongings, such as they were, were neatly placed at the foot of the cot, his beloved harp on top of them.

"I will leave you to dress," his atar said. "We’ll set off as soon as we’ve had breakfast." Then he left him to his own devices.

****

The day’s travel was much like yesterday’s. Finrod, however, found himself staring, not at the scenery, but at Amarië, his expression one of puzzlement, his brow furrowed in deep thought as he tried to bring some memory of her to his mind. Amarië tried to ignore his stare at first, but finally she had enough and gave him a cross look. "Are you going to stare at me all the way to Tirion?" she demanded.

"I don’t remember you," Finrod said simply, not at all upset by her words. He saw her go pale and shrugged, turning his attention to the passing scenery. He vaguely noticed his ammë put a comforting arm around the elleth, but otherwise ignored the others in the carriage.

The hours passed in an uncomfortable silence, broken only when they stopped around noon to rest the horses and take some sustenance for themselves. Finrod ate very little, and when the journey resumed, he found that he couldn’t stop yawning. Soon he was leaning against his atar, falling asleep.

The sound of the carriage wheels clattering on cobblestone woke him with a start, and he looked around wildly, trying to determine what the sound was and why it felt so threatening to him. His atar smiled at him and gave him a hug. "It’s all right, yonya," he said quietly. "We’re coming into Eldamas now. There’s nothing to fear."

Finrod nodded, trying to slow his breathing. He turned to look out the window, eager to see the town. It was early evening now and they were passing along a wide street lined with white stone buildings that looked residential, for there were gardens surrounding them and he could see elflings playing, pausing long enough to stare at them as they went by. Finrod smiled and waved and they waved back, much to his delight. He wondered what game they might be playing and wished suddenly he could play, too. The escort turned onto another wide avenue and then they were driving through a set of iron-wrought gates, heading up a drive. He turned a quizzical look at Arafinwë.

"We’re coming to the royal estate," his atar explained. "It is shared between the three royal families of Eldamar. Personally, I prefer staying at one of the many fine inns here, but our numbers are too many for any inn to accommodate us, so we’ll spend the night here."

Finrod nodded in understanding. Soon they were stopping before a house that did not look too much different from all the other houses he had seen, though this one was decidedly larger. He followed his parents and Amarië up the steps to the front door which opened as they approached. Several people came out, giving them bows or curtsies before descending to the carriage to retrieve their bags. One of them remained by the door and gave them a smile.

"Welcome, sire, my ladies," he said. Then he gave Finrod a curious stare, which made the ellon blush. "And you, as well, my prince. I am glad to see you again."

Arafinwë answered for them all. "Thank you, Calandil. I trust all is in readiness. The journey has been tiring."

"Indeed, sire," Calandil said with a bow. "Your rooms are all ready and a light repast has been prepared for whenever you desire to sup."

"That will be fine," Arafinwë said. "I don’t know about anyone else, but I sorely could use a hot bath before dinner."

Eärwen and Amarië gave soft sighs and nods of agreement with Arafinwë’s words, but Finrod did not respond, too busy looking around in interest as they made their way through the halls, following Calandil who led them to the wing set aside for the Noldóran and his family.

"Would you like to bathe, Findaráto?" his atar asked him.

Finrod nodded somewhat distractedly, gazing at the tapestries and statuary gracing the corridors and comparing them to what he remembered of such in Nargothrond. "I would like that," he said. "I’m feeling a bit grimy."

"I will have baths ordered for you all, then," Calandil said as he bowed them into what turned out to be a large sitting room and then left them.

Arafinwë steered Finrod towards a set of doors to their right. "This is your room, Findaráto. Your ammë and I are through those doors," he pointed across the room, "and Amarië’s rooms are across the hall. You should find everything you need, but if you don’t just let me know. I’ll call you when the baths are ready."

Finrod stopped and blinked at his atar in confusion, stealing a look at his ammë and Amarië. "Are we bathing together, then?"

There were shocked gasps from the ellith but Arafinwë just laughed, clapping a hand on Finrod’s shoulder. "Nay, yonya. There are two bathing chambers set aside for our use. You and I will share one of them and we’ll leave the ellith to their own devices." He gave his son a sly wink and Finrod grinned, feeling less mortified by his gaffe.

"Sorry," he said shyly. "I don’t always remember...."

"Not to worry, dear," his ammë said, giving him a fond smile. "You go and unpack and we’ll see you at dinner." Then she took Amarië’s arm and together they exited the sitting room leaving Finrod and Arafinwë to themselves.

****

Finrod exited his bedroom some time later, freshly bathed and dressed, to find the rest of his family waiting for him. He paused in dismay, noticing the fine fabric of their clothes, the rich embroidery and the jewelry they sported and became self-conscious in the plain blue wool tunic with its simple embroidery of leaves and flowers. It was a farewell gift from Morwen who, it turned out, had been a seamstress in Gondolin serving Lord Ecthelion’s household, and for that reason he treasured it and considered it his ‘best’ tunic.

Naturally, it was Amarië who spoke first. "Surely you have something better than that to wear, Findaráto," she said with a look of disgust. "We’re not dining by a campfire tonight."

"Hush, Amarië," Arafinwë said with a scowl that cowed the elleth.

"It... it’s all I have," Finrod said apologetically, wishing he were back in Lórien with people who knew him and didn’t judge him.

Eärwen came to him and kissed him on the brow. "It’s fine, dear," she said. "Do not fret. It’s a lovely color that matches your eyes."

"My friend Morwen made it for me," he said, hoping that that would make all the difference, but he had a feeling it would not. "She’s a seamstress."

"She does lovely work," Eärwen said. "Is this her embroidery as well?" At Finrod’s nod, she gave him a warm smile. "She shows great talent. Now, why don’t we have dinner?"

They made their way to a dining room further along the wing. It was not an intimate room and Finrod felt a bit lost in it with just the four of them dining at one end of the long table that took up the better part of the floor space. Calandil and an elleth acted as servers, which made Finrod feel even more uncomfortable. He was more used to the informal meals in Lórien. Conversation was minimal and mostly between his parents while he and Amarië remained silent. Most of the conversation seemed to center around people he did not know or at least did not remember, so it was of no interest to him.  So he sat there, feeling properly bored, pushing the peas around his plate. Then, a fit of mischief took him, and he picked up a pea and put it on his spoon, flinging it at Amarië, giving her a grin. She didn’t seem to appreciate the game and glowered at him.

"Stop that, Findaráto!" she spat. "Honestly, one would think you were an elfling the way you act."

The words stung and Finrod rose, now angry and disgusted with everything and everyone. "And you’re a... an orc!" he yelled, then stalked out of the room, ignoring his atar’s calls for him to return. He practically ran back to his room, slamming the door and flinging himself onto his bed, wrapping a pillow around his middle and rocking himself. He refused to cry, though, and just closed his eyes, wishing he were back in Lórien, or even better, Mandos.

"Oh, Glorfi," he sighed. "I miss you."

Some time later there was a soft knock on the door and then his atar was there. "Are you well, Finda?" Arafinwë asked softly.

Finrod shook his head, refusing to look up at his atar. "No. I am not. I hate it here. I hate her. I want to go back to Lórien."

Arafinwë sighed and sat on the edge of the bed and began gently rubbing Finrod’s back. "I’m sorry, child," he said. "I wish things could be different for you."

"Why is she so mean?" Finrod asked. "I just wanted to play. Dinner was so boring."

Arafinwë gave him a considering look. "There is a time and place for everything, Findaráto. You know your ammë doesn’t approve of her children playing with their food."

Now Finrod blushed. "Sorry. I forgot."

His atar smiled at him. "Now you know. Come back to the table. We haven’t had dessert and the cooks made it specially for you."

In spite of himself, Finrod was intrigued. "They did?" he asked.

Arafinwë nodded. "You wouldn’t want to disappoint them after all the hard work they put into it, would you?" Finrod shook his head and his atar stood up, holding out his hand, which he took, allowing himself to be pulled out of bed. He stood there while Arafinwë straightened his tunic for him, making sure he was presentable. "Good. And you will apologize to Amarië for what you called her. That was very mean of you and she did not deserve it."

Finrod grimaced. "I still hate her."

"No, child," Arafinwë admonished, giving him a slight shake. "It is fine not to like her all that much, but she does not deserve your hatred. No one does, unless they are truly one of the Enemy."

Finrod sighed. "Yes, Atto. I’m sorry."

"I know you are, yonya," Arafinwë said, giving him a loving hug. "Now, let us return to the ellith."

****

Hours later, after Finrod and Amarië were both in bed, Arafinwë and Eärwen sat on the settee before the fire in the sitting room, their arms around each other.

"This is harder than I thought," Eärwen said.

Arafinwë nodded, turning to give his wife a kiss on her temple. "I know. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I didn’t expect this. He’s a stranger wearing our son’s face and I’m not sure how I should feel about it."

"He looks so lost," Eärwen said sadly. "I wish the Valar had seen fit to warn us about what to expect."

Arafinwë shook his head. "I have the feeling we’re meant to find our own way with him."

"For all that he appears to be an adult, he acts at times as if he’s not much older than thirty," Eärwen commented.

Her husband gave a chuckle. "Did you see Amarië’s face when he threw the pea at her. She looked so affronted. The proper elleth."

"Poor dear," was all Eärwen said. "She’s waited so long for him and now...."

"We’ve all waited equally as long," Arafinwë pointed out to her.

"But we are his parents," Eärwen replied. "We’re used to dealing with elflings, though mind you, I thought those days were long over with."

"And now we have an elfling with us once again," Arafinwë said with a sigh. "Findaráto is the first. Someday our other two sons will be released from Mandos and we’ll have to deal with them as elflings again, as well."

Eärwen suddenly laughed. "Do you remember how we kept saying that Findaráto was just for practice and we wouldn’t have any other children until we got it right?"

Arafinwë joined her in laughter, giving her another kiss. "And now we get to see if we got it right all over again."

They were quiet for a time as each was lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Eärwen snuggled closer to her husband. "Our Finda is returned to us, beloved," she whispered. "Our baby is back where he belongs." She started weeping then and Arafinwë held her tighter, his own tears streaming down his cheeks as they both rejoiced in the return of their firstborn from death.