37: The Final Summons

To say that Amarië’s taunt about being a Reborn hurt is to put it mildly. I was furious. I had gone out of my way to include her in an important part of my life, to show her that I was no longer the insecure, elflingish ellon she had known before. In the end, though, I let it go. It wasn’t worth getting all riled up over. I remained unfailingly polite to her for my parents’ sake, though I have no doubt they both realized it was merely an act on my part. Yet I did nothing that they could fault me for, so they kept quiet. As the years and decades rolled on, the only thing that kept me sane, having to deal with Amarië on a daily basis, was the thought that someday my gwador, my heart-brother, would finally be released from Mandos and we would be together again. That day couldn’t come too soon....

****

“I am sorry Amarië did not appreciate your performance in court,” Arafinwë said to Finrod later that evening. “I do not know what is wrong with the elleth.” The two were in Arafinwë’s study sipping on some wine and discussing the cases that they had adjudicated that day.

“She has decided that as a Reborn I have no chance of ever achieving the level of maturity that she expects from me,” Finrod retorted, downing his wine in two gulps, too angry to really appreciate it.

Arafinwë frowned, but whether at his words or for gulping his wine, Finrod could not say and at that point did not care. He poured himself some more wine and sighed. “I know the cases today were rather ordinary and uninteresting for the most part, although that last case was rather fun, but I was hoping she would see me as others are beginning to see me.”

“She may just need time,” Arafinwë said soothingly. “You have to admit that in the last memory she has of you, you were not at your best.” He gave his son a sardonic look.

Finrod snorted. “To say the least.”

“I appreciate your efforts to be civil to her and to invite her into your life,” Arafinwë said. “I know it was not easy for you and I am sorry she could not be bothered to at least meet you half way.”

Finrod shrugged. “I refuse to be what I am not, even for her. She will have to learn to accept me, all of me, as I am and not as she would like me to be. I am not the same ellon who left her standing on the front portico of the palace, presumably forever. That person died in more ways than one.”

“I know,” his atar said. “Your ammë and I have had to learn that lesson the hard way as well.”

“Sorry,” Finrod said sincerely. “I know what a trial I’ve been to you both.”

“A trial?” Arafinwë repeated, looking surprised. Then he shook his head as he stood up and drew Finrod into an embrace. “Yonya, you have never been a trial but a joy. You are our child, our first-born, a gift from Eru for which we never cease to thank Him.” He smiled at his son and planted a loving kiss on his forehead. “Now your sister is another matter,” he added, giving him a wink and Finrod burst out laughing, knowing just what his atar meant.

“So, were Pelendur and Nambarauto satisfied with the outcome of the case?” Arafinwë asked as he released Finrod and resumed his seat, pouring some more wine into both their goblets.

“I was surprised that Pelendur insisted that I act as judge,” Finrod replied.

Arafinwë nodded. “Normally, such a dispute between nobles would have come to my attention but Pelendur told me that he did not want any favoritism and he would accept whoever was assigned to judge the case, even one of the city magistrates. Which is why I gave it to you. I was curious as to how he and Nambarauto would conduct themselves before you.”

“In the end, I think even Nambarauto was impressed by how I handled the case,” Finrod said, “especially when I ordered Caliondo to pay him half the stud fee that he had to give back to Lord Ornendil. He wasn’t expecting that.”

“A wise move and not absolutely necessary,” Arafinwë commented. “Nambarauto is not hurting and that stallion of his is often called upon to act as a stud.”

“I told him that I was thinking of mating Ringanárë with him,” Finrod said with a sly smile. “That really surprised him.”

“And will you?” Arafinwë asked.

Finrod nodded. “I will speak to him in the next week or so and see what agreement we can make. I don’t like the ellon all that much, but I do like his horse.” He gave his atar an innocent look.

Arafinwë threw back his head and laughed.

****

Amarië watched as Findaráto went about his duties as haryon, noticing the respect with which others treated him. She had come to the conclusion that she had been in error in treating him as she had when she first returned to Tirion and set out to amend her ways. She still loved him, or at least she thought she did, and she wanted him to love her.

When the missive from Atto Arafinwë had come letting her know that she was welcome to return to Tirion, she had been of two minds about it. During the long years of what she deemed her exile, she had often wondered how Findaráto was faring and if he was still acting the elfling. He had written to her on occasion as duty demanded, but his letters had been devoid of any real emotion that could be called ‘love’. Still, her curiosity decided her and she made plans to return to what she had long considered her true home.

Her ammë had been less than supportive of her plans to regain the ellon’s love.

“He deserted you, Amarië,” she had reminded her.

“No. You refused to let me go with him,” she had retorted.

“And with good reason,” her mother responded.

Her atto had merely kissed her, saying, “Follow your heart, child, and do what you think best.”

Thus, when she left Vanyamar she did so with her atto’s blessing if not her ammë’s. Now she was determined to win Findaráto back.

She waited a few days before approaching him, finding the ellon sitting in an arbor reading. He looked up from his book when he saw her coming, his expression neutral, neither forbidding nor welcoming her presence.

“I want to apologize for the other day,” she said. “It was rude of me. I guess I was still remembering the way you were before I left and I was finding it difficult to reconcile that image with what I saw in court. I think you handled those cases very well, especially the last one.”

“Thank you,” Findaráto said, though his expression was still impassive. He did shift his position on the bench, tacitly inviting her to sit, which she did. “It’s been many years since you last saw me. Did you think I would remain the same forever?”

“No, of course not, but....” She gave him a shrug. “I guess I was too wrapped up in my memories of how you were when you first returned to notice the changes.”

“It hasn’t been easy,” he said with a sigh. “It’s still not to some extent. Sometimes it seems a case of one step forward and two steps back, but Atto and Ammë both insist that I have matured dramatically over the last few years, especially since taking up my duties as haryon, something I had been reluctant to do.”

“Why?” Amarië asked, looking puzzled. “Your atar is Noldóran, you are his first-born and heir. It’s only logical that you would take on those duties traditionally assigned to the haryon, rather than to any of the younger princes.”

“But you see,” Findaráto said with a sardonic twist of his lips, “acting as haryon is a step down for me.” When she shook her head, clearly not understanding what he meant, he continued. “When I left Tirion, it was as the elder son of the youngest son of the Noldóran, one of those younger princes you mentioned. I had little to do with my anatar’s court, though when Ñolofinwë became regent after anatar removed to Formenos, my duties necessarily changed.” He paused, giving a chuckle. “I recall that I asked my uncle to let me head the department in charge of overseeing the butteries.”

Amarië giggled. “I remember that. When you came to Vanyamar to help out Ingwion while the High King was in Tirion giving Ñolofinwë his support, I recall you telling everyone that you would stay as long as they fed you.”

Findaráto grinned. “It worked too. Ingwion later told me his first reaction was to wonder if they had enough provender to last until the Remaking.”

Now they were both laughing. When they had calmed a bit, silence fell between them as they both dwelt on distant memories. It was not an awkward silence, but neither was it truly comfortable. Finally, Findaráto stirred. “When I came to Beleriand,” he said quietly, resuming his narrative, “it was as the leader of those who had followed Atto but now gave their allegiance to me. I was their king, though I acknowledged Uncle Ñolofinwë as High King, as did we all, even Nelyo, who abdicated the title in favor of Uncle as the eldest of our House. I was a king for nearly four hundred years of the Sun.”

“And then you died,” Amarië interjected quietly.

Findaráto nodded. “Yes, but, don’t you see? I died a king, though I had given up my crown, leaving Artaher as my regent.” He gave her a pleading look, which surprised her. “Do you understand? I died a king, and now I am naught but the heir to another king. I... I have been... demoted in a way and it has taken me a long time to reconcile myself to it.”

“Someday your atar will step down and you will be a king again,” Amarië offered.

“Someday, perhaps,” Findaráto averred, sighing, “but not today or any time soon.”

Amarië stared out into the garden, not sure what to say. She decided not to pursue the subject of kingship further or to ask about his life in Endórë, a life she was not allowed to share. Instead, she said, “Of all those who left us, besides yourself, I missed Artanis the most. I always admired her bravery and in the years that followed I often wished I had had the courage to defy my parents and come with you.”

“I am glad that you did not,” Findaráto said with all sincerity. She gave him a surprised look. “Not because I did not wish you beside me, I do remember that I had such feelings for you back then, but because I do not think you would have enjoyed it. Our lives were harsh and fraught with danger and in the end Nargothrond fell. It is most likely you would either have died or been taken as a slave. That is a fate I would not have wished on you, or anyone, for that matter.”

“I suppose,” she replied. “Tell me about Artanis. What was it like for her? Did she reside in Nar...nargo... wherever with you?”

Findaráto smiled. “Nargothrond,” he corrected her, then shook his head. “Nay, she did not, but dwelt in Lestanórë with our kin, Elu Thingol, who is my Anatar Olwë’s brother, and his queen, Melian, who is a Maia. Artanis eventually married a distant cousin of ours, Celeborn. Atto says he met them when he was there during the war. I am glad they both survived, though it grieves me that she was not allowed to return with the others. Atto has assured me that someday the ban will be lifted and she will return. I hope so. I miss her, too.”

Amarië nodded, then gave him a small smile. “Do you remember the time she insisted on arm-wrestling Turcafinwë?”

Findaráto started laughing. “And all our other cousins insisted on arm-wrestling her when she defeated him. She won every match, much to their disgust and Ammë’s disapproval.”

Amarië giggled. “And then there was that time....”

****

When, sometime later, strolling through the gardens, Arafinwë and Eärwen saw Finrod and Amarië together, they were surprised to see the two speaking animatedly with one another, laughing over something one of them had said. They gave one another pleased smiles and continued on, deciding not to disturb the young couple, hoping that this was the beginning of a new phase in their son’s life and that he and the one whom they thought of as their daughter would eventually come to an understanding.

Arafinwë glanced at his wife in amusement as he heard her softly humming the traditional wedding song that was sung as the bride was escorted by her family to where the bridegroom awaited her.

“A little early, don’t you think?” he whispered to her.

She cast him a wry glance. “One can never plan a wedding too early, love.”

He laughed lightly and gave her a loving kiss on the lips, which she returned. It was some time before they continued their walk.

****

And so, life went on. Amarië did her best not to harp too much on her and Finrod’s past relationship and Finrod did his best to at least be friends. His feelings towards her were still ambivalent. He had begun remembering the times they had had together but the emotional connection was still missing for the most part. He was not sure if it would ever come and he was feeling frustrated.

When he mentioned it to his ammë, she gave him a gentle smile. “Perhaps you should concentrate less on finding an emotional connection to the past and look for one in the present,” she advised him. “Forget what you thought you had in the past. If you truly wish for your relationship with Amarië to progress beyond mere friendship, then let it. Do not wait around for a connection that might never come. Forge new connections and see what happens.”

He considered her advice carefully and in the end decided to follow it. He did not think their relationship would go beyond being good friends, but at least he was no longer trying to make an emotional connection with her, but allowing it to happen naturally.

Amarië, when she realized what he was doing, was not happy but saw that she had little choice in the matter and did what she could to bring them closer. Arafinwë and Eärwen watched as the two youngsters engaged in a mating ritual as old as time and hoped for the best.

****

The Valar watched as well and there were comments among them about Finrod and Amarië.

“Do you think there will ever be a marriage between them?” Vairë asked her spouse one day as they were sitting together in her workshop. He had come to see how her latest tapestry was progressing. It was a depiction of Elros Minyatur addressing his people for the last time before returning the Gift of Life to Ilúvatar. Elros had died only about sixty years earlier.

“Eventually,” he answered as he admired the tapestry, which was nearly done, “if Amarië does not ruin it. Lately, she has been pressing him for a decision more than usual.”

Vairë nodded. “So I noticed. Well it should be interesting to see what happens when Glorfindel is brought into the mix.”

Námo gave her a sardonic smile. “That impossible ellon will certainly enliven things a bit, won’t he? And young Sador, as well.”

“When will Irmo tell Findaráto?”

“I told him I would send Findaráto the message,” he replied, giving her a wink.

Vairë raised an eyebrow at that, but deigned not to comment.

****

Finrod was sitting in his court, listening to a minor dispute between two farmers. He had already decided on how he would rule but was waiting for one of the complainants to finish his defense before passing judgment. As the farmer ended his speech, Finrod began speaking but was interrupted when the door of the audience chamber opened and he saw Calandil enter. That surprised him, for he was one of his atar’s personal guards and at this hour he should have been in attendance to his lord.

“Yes, Calandil, what is it?” he asked as the guard stopped before the dais and gave him a bow.

“My lord, this message has just arrived for you,” Calandil said and handed Finrod a piece of parchment. “I was told that no answer would be required.”

Finrod thanked him and Calandil bowed again before exiting. “Please excuse me for a moment,” the prince said to the rest of the court as he stared at the missive. It was a single sheet of parchment folded over once with a seal of the Sun-in-Eclipse embedded in black wax. He felt himself trembling at the sight of the symbol, which was so well known to him. He gave Herendil, standing next to him, a glance and the ellon handed him his belt knife. He carefully broke the seal and began to read, unaware that he stood, his face going white. On the plain parchment, written in elegant Sindarin tengwar were two short sentences:

Tolo hi. Mellon gîn anglenna in Ennyn Aderthad.

It was signed simply: Námo.

Finrod closed his eyes.

“My lord, is there something amiss?” Herendil asked worriedly.

Finrod opened his eyes, unaware that his Light of Being shone so brightly through them that many there could not look at him directly. “Nay,” Finrod said, attempting to sound calm. “There is naught amiss. I fear I must leave now. Please forgive me.”

“But... but what about us?” one of the farmers asked in perplexity.

Finrod shook his head impatiently, only wanting to get away. “I will have Lord Herendil reschedule you to return at the next court and will give you my decision then. Now, I really must leave.”

He stepped down from the dais and walked decorously towards the door of the antechamber, ignoring the looks of surprise and the hasty bows of those he passed. Amandur automatically went to follow but Finrod gave him an imperious gesture to remain behind. The guard was familiar enough with his charge’s moods to recognize when the prince wished to be alone and remained where he was, giving a rueful sigh as Finrod left. Herendil gave him a sympathetic smile as he went to speak to the two farmers, both looking nonplused at the sudden ending of their audience with the prince.

Finrod, meanwhile, took a moment to collect himself once he was alone, taking deep breaths and reading the missive over and over again.

Tolo hi. Mellon gîn anglenna.... tolo hi... tolo....

“I’m coming Glorfi. I’m coming,” he whispered to himself as he opened the door to the outside corridor, and then, heedless of what others might think, he began to run, making his way towards the family apartments where he knew his atar was in his study meeting with his advisors, shouting with gleeful abandonment:

“He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming....”

****

Artaher: Orodreth.

Nelyo: Pet name for Nelyafinwë (Maedhros).

Lestanórë: Quenya form of Doriath.

Turcafinwë: Celegorm.

Tolo hi. Mellon gîn anglenna in Ennyn Aderthad: (Sindarin) ‘Come now. Your friend approaches the Gates of Reunion’.

- Metta -