Chapter 20

“Arafinwë, stop fidgeting!” Eärwen said, adjusting his collar and then his robes. “You do not need to be so nervous. You hardly touched your dinner, so our children already know that something has unsettled you.”

He sighed, “I know, but once they hear what I have to say and they meet him, then they may never want anything to do with me again. He may not want anything to do with me either. Are you certain this is a good idea?”

Standing on her toes, she put her arms around Arafinwë and drew his head down until his lips met hers, holding him in a passionate kiss until he calmed down. When she finally released his mouth, she slid her hands around to cup his face. “Good idea or not, it is the right thing to do. You owe it to all of your children. Besides,” she paused, blinking back tears, “he is the only Aicanáro we will have in our lives now. You owe it to your son who was orphaned when he was only five-years-old to give him some sense of history for his family and the chance to finally know the ellon who sired him, and you owe your other children the truth about what happened to you.”

Steeling himself, he nodded grimly. She gave him another brief kiss, then took his arm and led him down the corridor. At the open door to the salon, they were greeted by their children and their spouses who lingered just outside the room.

“Atar,” Angaráto asked, his wife Eldalote at his side, “Who are the uncomfortable looking elleth and ellon in there?”

Eärendil walked up at that moment with Elwing on his arm. “The ellon is the smith who repaired my belt buckle, and I am guessing that is his wife, but I do not know for certain.”

“How about we go inside and find out?” Arafinwë encouraged.

“Why are we meeting with a smith?” Findaráto asked, his eyes narrowing. “What is this about, Atar?”

“Let us go inside and sit down and then you will all find out,” Eärwen made a shoeing gesture to her children and they reluctantly entered the room.

Eärendil walked up beside Arafinwë.  Clasping him on the shoulder, he whispered, “I told my wife everything last night after you informed me of what you intended to do tonight. We will support you in any way that we can.”

“Thank you,” Arafinwë replied. “I am going to need it. I am terrified, but as Eärwen has pointed out repeatedly, it is the right thing to do.”

“Yes, it is,” Elwing agreed. “That is why we are here to support you.” She stepped forward and embraced Arafinwë, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “It will be all right,” she whispered. “And you will be, too.”

“Thank you,” he whispered back. As Elwing returned to Eärendil’s side, Arafinwë took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. His life was about to change all over again and he was afraid…very, very afraid. Eärwen slipped her arm around his waist instead of taking his arm. Giving a gentle tug, she led him into the room behind Eärendil and Elwing.

There was a large table in the middle of the room with many chairs around it. Carafes of red wine and plates of bread and cheese lay in the middle of the table. At each seat was a small plate and a crystal goblet. Everyone in the room was already standing when Arafinwë walked in and they all turned to face him. The smith and his wife blanched as they looked upon him, bowing and curtsying deeply in greeting.

Arafinwë gestured for them to rise. “Please, there is no need for that tonight.”

Aicanáro nervously clutched the elleth’s hand, his head bowed. “Forgive me, your Majesty, for my behavior the other night. I…I truly did not know who you were. And I did not believe you and Lord Eärendil when you introduced yourselves before you departed. I thought over our conversation and realized that he at least was Lord Eärendil. Then I received the royal summons to come here with my wife tonight and I-” His voice trailed off.

Arafinwë walked over and put his hands on the ellon’s shoulders, drawing his gaze to his own. “You have nothing for which to apologize. You were wise to not let me near your forge in my, shall we say, inebriated state, when we met. But I am impressed with your work and I am very, very glad that we found you.”

“Your Majesty, if I may ask, why did you summon me here?”

Arafinwë lowered his hands and stepped away. “My children,” he nodded to where they had congregated on the other side of the room, “have been asking me that very same question. And the answer concerns you all.”

“First though, I believe that introductions are in order. Would you please begin by introducing yourself and this lovely elleth to all us?”

Aicanáro’s face reddened in embarrassment as he turned and bowed to the group. “My name is Aicanáro Laurehérion. And this,” he gestured to the silver-haired elleth at his side who blushed as she curtsied, “is my wife Eärliniel.”

“I am honored,” she said softly in a shy voice.

“As am I,” Arafinwë said with a courteous nod. He looked around and saw that his children all nodded in greeting as well.

“This is my wife Queen Eärwen.” Arafinwë put his arm around her waist as she moved to his side.

“It is good to meet another Lindariel when we are so far from home,” Eärwen said, smiling brightly.

“Yes, Your Grace, it is,” Eärliniel replied a little more audibly than before. “We have nothing as fine as what you have.” She gestured to her simple blue dress which matched her eyes. “I apologize if we are dressed inappropriately for this meeting.”

Eärwen shook her head. “Worry not. We are the ones who importuned you in summoning you here. This is an important discussion we are about to have, and I do not want you to feel uncomfortable in any way. Please, be at peace.”

In his mind, Arafinwë heard Eärwen’s approval of Aicaináro’s choice of a Telerin wife, then she added, What was our son’s Andreth like?

Arafinwë replied in kind, She had dark hair and was very wise according to what I read about her.

Disappointing that he was drawn to a mortal who was so like a Noldo. At least this Aicanáro has good taste in females.

You are the queen of the Noldor. You are not supposed to say such things!

I did not say them, I thought them. There is a difference.

Resisting the urge to glare at his wife and sigh, Arafinwë proceeded to introduce all of his children and their spouses, then directed everyone in the room to sit around the table.

As he passed Arafinwë, Eärendil whispered, “The apple does not fall from the tree, does it? So… are you rethinking that comment the other night about Teleri and Vanyar marrying?”

Arafinwë whispered back, “I am rethinking many of my comments from that night. I really wish I had kept my teeth together. I did not know his wife was Telerin.”

Eärendil laughed, “But we had fun and it was far more entertaining that way.”

Arafinwë rolled his eyes and clapped Eärendil on the back rather harder than necessary, causing the ellon to wince and then laugh even harder.

Eärwen placed herself between the two, sternly gesturing to their chairs while whispering harshly, “Sit down both of you and behave.”

With a conspiratorial glance at Eärendil, Arafinwë took his place at the head of the table with Eärwen at his left and Eärendil at his right. Aicanáro sat beside Elwing with his wife seated beside him and the rest of the family arranged themselves as they saw fit.

Once they were seated, Aicanáro placed a book on the table before him. “Your Majesty, if I may…I…I was rather hoping that Prince Findaráto would be here. Do you remember that book I told you about? My granddaughter made copies of it for me as I have recopied it through the years when the binding and paper wears. I…I realize this is presumptuous of me, but I brought a copy of it for Prince Findaráto since it concerns him closely. I do not know that he is even aware that the book exists.”

“What book?” Findaráto asked, holding out his hand as Eärliniel and then Amarië passed the book to him.

“My Lord, it…it was written by the mortal Andreth and recounts many of your conversations with her.”

Findaráto quickly opened the book and thumbed through a few pages, his eyes growing wide with wonder. His expression filled with memories and it took him some time to compose himself enough to ask, “How…How did you come by this book?”

Aicanáro smiled tentatively. “It belonged to my amillë.”

“Who is your amillë that she would possess such a book?” Findaráto asked, clearly intrigued.

“She was a mortal, a kinswoman of the same Andreth who wrote the book.”

Findaráto glanced at the book again, then looked more closely at Aicanáro. “You are peredhel? From the look of you I thought you were of Telerin and Vanyarin origins.”

Aicanáro smiled. “That is what most think of me. I was born in Beleriand. My amillë was mortal, but my atar was a Vanya. He was injured in battle in the War of Wrath and she found him and cared for him. He was a smith and worked alongside our village smith. When I was five years old, the war found our village again and my atar went back to the fighting. My amillë took sick and her health deteriorated. She soon died and sometime later word came that my atar had fallen in battle on the same day.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” Findaráto said quietly, nodding his head in condolence.

“Thank you,” Aicanáro said.

After a respectful pause, Angaráto asked, “How did you come to be named for our brother?”

Flushing in embarrassment, Aicanáro explained, “My amillë was very fond of the book and the tale of the love of Andreth and Aicanáro. I honestly do not know if it was her idea or my atar’s that my twin sister and I should be named Andreth and Aicanáro.”

There were chuckles all around, then Eärendil added, “And your sister grew up to marry my son Elros.”

“Yes, my Lord. My amillë had a sister with many children, but my atar’s business partner took us in and raised us as his own out of respect and love for my atar. When I was older, I was told that my uncle hated my atar for some reason, and my atar’s friends feared what might have happened to us if we had lived in his house. I was taught to be a smith from the time I was strong enough to lift a hammer.”

He paused and took an appreciative sip of the wine that Eärendil had poured for him while he was speaking. Eyes wide, he nodded his gratitude, then continued, “When the war ended, my sister and I were offered the choice just like Elrond and Elros were. However, neither of us had ever met an Elf other than our atar, and we only knew him for five years. Blessedly, we were granted a delay in making our choice, so we moved to Númenor along with all of the other Mortals who were offered relocation since Beleriand was to be no more.”

Elwing commented, clasping Eärendil’s hand where it rested on the table, “We were granted our choice after Eärendil’s task of beseeching aide for the folk of Endórë was complete. It is a very difficult decision to make and then to wonder if one has chosen correctly or not.”

Aicanáro nodded, giving them a small smile of agreement. “My sister was tall and golden-haired and very beautiful. Elros told me that he fell in love with her the first time he met her and it was much the same for her as well. That sealed her fate as a Mortal. I had a smithy near the palace, but no love had stolen my heart, and I was content to watch my sister’s children grow up. My sister died before Elros did. My heart was broken for she was the last living memory I had of my past and I was alone after that, so very alone.” His wife took his hand in hers and they exchanged a loving glance. With a sigh, he went on.

“I felt no weariness like mortals do when age creeps upon them and I realized that in my heart I was an elf. That night Lord Eonwë came to me and told me that I must speak my choice to him. When I did, he told me where to go to seek passage on an elf ship to Aman. I came here in search of my atar, but no one in all of my yéni here had ever even heard of him until,” he paused and gestured to Arafinwë and Eärendil, “I met your Majesty and your Lordship two nights ago.”

“And here you are now,” Eärendil said gesturing to the room in general.

Aicanáro sighed nervously. “Here I am now, still wondering why I was summoned here.”

“I suppose it is time I answered that for you and for the rest of you as well.” Arafinwë conceded as he drained half of his glass in one swallow.

Eärendil reached out and put his hand over the glass. “You are not going down that path again, my friend. Not tonight.”

“No, I am not, I promise.” Arafinwë said, pulling his glass away from Eärendil’s reach. “But something to bolster the courage and numb the pain would not be remiss right now.” He proceeded to refill his glass, ignoring the mixture of curious expressions and amused smiles directed at him from around the table.

Taking another swallow, he braced himself and began. “As you know we are facing some very difficult times right now and understandably they weigh heavily upon me. However, what troubles me is more than just the fact that there is an impending invasion and siege of Noldorin and Telerin lands and we do not know to what either clan will return once this crisis is over or if either clan will even have lands as we know them to return to.”

“And that is not enough to trouble the King of the Noldor?” Angaráto asked in disbelief.

Arafinwë laughed mirthlessly. “That is indeed more than enough to trouble the King of the Noldor, but more than that lies on the shoulders of Arafinwë.” He clenched his fists and unclenched them a few times, then Eärwen slipped her hand into his, gripping it tightly and reassuringly. “In truth, I never believed I would have cause to have this conversation with any of you, least of all you, Aicanáro.”

“Then please, Sir, just tell why I am here, and I will leave.” Aicanáro said.

“You have just as much cause to be here as any of them do,” Arafinwë gestured to his other children. “Perhaps more so.”

“Then just say it, Atar,” Findaráto said clearly growing impatient.

“Findaráto! Please!” Arafinwë snapped. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to settle himself. When he opened his eyes again, his voice was calmer. “Please. You have no idea how difficult this is for me. Everything…everything changes for us tonight and it is all because of me.”

Eärendil spoke up. “What Arafinwë needs to tell you had its roots with some things that happened during the War of Wrath and now, after many yéni, those things are having an impact once again.” He turned to the king. “Perhaps, Arafinwë, you should start there.”

Arafinwë nodded. He took a sip of his wine, then sighed. This would either be the beginning of the end for him or simply a new beginning. Eärwen squeezed his hand reassuringly and he gave her a small grateful smile. At least he still had her.

“When the Army of Light departed for the War of Wrath, we were warned that after a certain point at sea, we would feel a sundering from Aman. Sure enough, one day those of us with kin in Aman felt the rending of our bonds with our parents, spouses, and children who did not accompany us on the journey. It was debilitating, with some collapsing to their knees and others losing consciousness. I had precious few left to lose – only my amillë and my wife - but it still felt as if my heart had been ripped from my chest and the sense of isolation and…and aloneness afterward left me breathless.  Fortunately we still had more than a week of sailing to recover from the horrific sense of loss. Unfortunately, it was only a matter of days after we landed that our first battle began for Beleriand was completely overrun with orcs and other servants of Morgoth.”

He paused, blinking back the memory of that pain. His daughter Falmamírë rose and came to him, giving him a hug from behind, “Atto, we are here now and you will not be without us again.”

He patted her arms, turning to meet her eyes, “I wish I could believe that. But you do not know what I have done. You may no longer feel that way once you know.”

“Well, I love you and I do not intend to let you go.” She kissed his cheek and returned to her chair beside her husband, but everyone else remained in expectant silence.

“We fought skirmishes and battles constantly, often daily, with little reprieve,” he continued. “About ten years into the conflict we had several weeks of gaining and losing ground, taking horrific losses. I remember fighting all morning one day in the late autumn and the cries of the dying and those mourning their loss cut me so deeply and so many of my friends had recently died…I…I just…I could not stand it anymore and I needed to be alone for a while. I left camp without any personal guard and ran as fast as I could, trying to clear my head. I kept thinking about all of my own personal losses. I wondered if my sons and brothers and nephews had died alone or if someone had held them as they breathed their last. I questioned why I had turned back and abandoned the rebellion and abandoned my family. Was it really courage or was it cowardice when I turned back to do the right thing and go back to Tirion and sue for forgiveness from the Teleri and take up a crown for which I had never been trained.”

“You were the wise one, Atto,” Findaráto said. “We were the fools. Good things did come of our time and efforts there, but we were fools for ever leaving Aman.”

Arafinwë nodded and gave a small sad smile in acknowledgement. “I do not know how far from camp I ran. It may have been hours. I did not pay attention. Finally I tripped and collapsed beside a stream. I lay there, still fully girt in my armor from the morning and cried until no more tears would come. When I finally pulled myself together, I remember rising to my knees, ripping off my helmet and gloves and throwing them in anger. I washed the mud from my face and immediately took an arrow to my left arm. I rose and drew my sword, fending off an orc attack. I managed to kill all but one, but took enough serious injuries to be left on my knees, disarmed, waiting for the final blow as the last remaining orc prepared to behead me. An arrow from somewhere passed through its neck mid-swing. The sword turned as it struck and the flat of the blade hit my head.”

The ellith in the room gasped, covering their mouths and some hiding their heads on their husband’s shoulders for none had heard tell of these injuries before now except for Eärwen.

“From that moment, until I woke up in a healer’s tent roughly seven years and many many leagues of battlefield later, I had little memory of who I really was or what my life had been. Snatches of memory came to me at times but seldom could I distinguish what was dream and what was memory.”

He glanced at Aicanáro who was staring at him intently, his face betraying nothing.

“I was succored by a mortal who tended me until I healed. I helped out in repayment as best I could, but I had this feeling, this sense that I needed to be back in the fight and that many would be looking for me. One day when the mortal was away, I left and sought out my own kind. After a few days of wandering in the direction where I was told I had been found, I came upon the remnants of a battle. Many elves had fallen and been dragged away by the orcs who would have tortured and/or enslaved the survivors and eaten the bodies of the dead as was their custom.  Eventually I found a group of thirteen elves, twelve of which had recently died of their wounds. The lone survivor, in his dying words called me by my right name, Arafinwë, though not by my title, and told me that I was the last of my house as he was the last of his. He said that one hundred had come looking for me, but they had been ambushed and he was all that remained alive. He told me to run away and hide, for my death would mean that Morgoth had won. He also told me that the army from Valinor was gone.”

Arafinwë took a drink of his wine and Eärendil topped off his glass for him again. “I was alone then, more alone than I have ever been. I buried the bodies of the thirteen and returned to the mortal who had succored me. She nearly put an arrow through me for having left without saying goodbye, but she accepted me back and allowed me to live with her in her small one room cabin. In return, I helped her in her trade as a trapper and did whatever odd jobs I could. It was the only place I had to go and she was the only person I knew. I never told her my real name because my guilt was so great that so many had died while searching for me, instead I chose to go by the name she gave to me when she found me.”

“Laurehér,” Aicanáro whispered incredulously.

“Laurehér.” Arafinwë nodded gravely.

Aicanáro hid his face in his hands for a few moments, then wiped his fingers across his eyes. “Dear Eru…” he whispered. “I…I…” His wife’s expression turned to deep concern and confusion as she rubbed his arm and shoulder trying to calm him. He reached over and took her hand in his and held it.

“Her name was Faroniel,” Arafinwë continued. “She had long, curly silver hair and kind blue eyes. She was the one who shot the arrow that saved my life, and she very patiently taught me Sindarin and helped me find some semblance of peace. Her husband had gone away with the recruiters who came to the village a few years before. He died in battle and then her two small children died of a fever a few months after that. Her sister lived nearby with a husband and four children of her own. The husband, Belegon, hated me and feared I would bring the recruiters back to the village again to take away even more young men and boys to fight in the elves’ war with Morgoth. He told her that if I ever went to the village then he would kill me.”

“So when did you finally go to the village?” Eärendil asked knowingly.

“I waited a few weeks after my return and then talked her into letting me go. I was curious to see other mortals and to see what a village looked like because I had no memories of ever having been to one before. I was desperately trying to find something that I could do to contribute in some way. We went on a cold day so I could stay wrapped in a cloak and hide my head easily enough under a hood. I saw a smith at work and watched him struggle with shoeing a horse. When the horse kicked him and the owner, I intervened, calming the horse and finishing shoeing it. I realized then that I had been trained as a smith, which I found to be an enormous relief for my only memories of a trade previous to that were of a time when Olwion, who I believed was my brother by blood, had taught me to sail and haul nets.”

“Which of my brothers?” Eärwen asked.

“The eldest.”

Everyone chuckled at that, but Aicanáro asked, “Why would you ever have been trained as a smith? You are royalty.”

Findaráto smiled and answered, “All of the sons of Finwë were apprenticed to Lord Aulë in their youth. Every one of us could make swords, horse shoes, jewelry, and all manner of other items.  Atar, I cannot believe that you thought one of amillë’s brothers was your brother.”

“What was worse than that was that I believed that I was a Vanyarin sailor. What a horribly useless set of skills in a forest village, let alone in Vanyamar! I was so relieved to realize that I had been a smith.”

When everyone calmed their laughter, Arafinwë took another drink and continued.

“The smith thanked me and asked me to stay on since I obviously knew my way around a forge and help him until he recovered enough from his now broken ribs to be able to work again. The local tradesmen saw that I was not the threat that Belegon had described, and Faroniel made certain that they did not find me threatening by telling everyone that I was mind-damaged from the war. This angered me greatly, but I understood her reasoning. The next day, Belegon came to the forge, which was in the middle of the village and attacked me. I did nothing to defend myself because I realized that if I showed I was strong or threatening, he would kill me and the villagers would likely help him. As it was, it took three men to pull him off of me and four or five days for me to recover from my new injuries. The villagers were on my side when I returned to the forge, and I worked there for nearly seven years.”

“Atto,” Falmamírë asked, “Why would you think that this would make us displeased with you? I do not understand. You helped others and found a way to honorably make a living. I see nothing wrong with what you have described.”

“It is what he has not yet said that you will find shocking and deplorable,” Aicanáro said bitterly.

“And how would you know this, smith?” Angaráto asked haughtily.

“Because I am a direct result of it,” Aicanáro quietly replied.

Angaráto looked at his siblings and then back at Aicanáro, clearly confused. “What do you mean by that?”

“Aicanáro,” Arafinwë gently admonished. “It is my tale to tell.”

Chagrined, the smith nodded. “Yes, Sir. I am sorry, Sir. I just…I…I could never have imagined…” he spread his hands helplessly. “this.”

“I know.”

“And back then you truly had no memory of who and what you were and what you had left behind in Aman?” Aicanáro asked.

“I knew I was someone important and Faroniel helped me deduce that I had been a great captain of the army of Valinor. Beyond that, I had memories of a troubled uncomfortable life with an atar who loved my eldest brother more than me and refused to punish that brother for threatening my dearest brother with a sword. Actually I thought that Olwion was the one who had done the threatening and only later realized that I had yet another brother, Feanaro, who was cruel and who hated me and I hated him. I remembered bodies littering the beaches and quays of Alqualondë, myself kneeling before a king begging forgiveness for the deeds of the Noldor, and a host of other unpleasant, uncomfortable memories. Only on rare occasion did I remember happy times. I have had precious few of those in my life anyway.”

“Were your years as a village smith happy for you?” Aicanáro timidly ventured.

“Yes, very much so.”

Aicanáro pursed his lips, nodding his gratitude.

“When I worked in the village I very much enjoyed watching the children and there were many of them about. Faroniel’s sister had a child added to her house my first summer there, and we helped mind two of her younger children. I found that I loved having children around me. I often wondered if I had ever had any children and I watched Faroniel grieve for hers who were no more.  My heart was hollow and empty inside for there were no bonds of kinship that I could feel with anyone, so I continued to believe that I had never wed and had no children, or, if I had, then my wife and children were dead. Either way, I was very much alone and I ached inside for what I was missing. I had vague memories of remarriage among elves if a spouse died. But that was all I could remember. I did not even know that I myself was the result of a remarriage.”

Arafinwë emptied his glass again, but Eärendil did not offer to refill it.

“You need to do this part on your own,” Eärendil whispered, “But please remember you are not alone in this.”

The king nodded, inhaling deeply and slowly exhaling. “It seemed right to me that I should have a silver-haired woman at my side. I dreamed of one on rare occasion and I knew that I desperately loved the silver-haired elleth from my dreams. In time, I came to love Faroniel and I took her for my wife. We had two children together, twins, a son and a daughter. We named them for two people from her favorite story in her favorite book – the book that Findaráto is currently holding. I knew from the book the worries and concerns of wise elves concerning the union of elf and mortal, and I went into the relationship with full knowledge that she would die one day and I would be bereft and alone. But I also knew that Aicanáro from the book had died alone as had Andreth, and Faroniel and I both believed that it was very wrong that they had never wed.”

He paused long enough to catch his breath for he saw the protest about to arise from his children and he wanted to have his say before they stopped listening to him, possibly forever.

“When the children were five years old, recruiters returned to the village. I went back to the war as had been my intent from the beginning, for I believed that this was a war the elves brought to Endórë and they should be the ones fighting it. I parted from Faroniel and the children with the intention of returning as soon as I was allowed. I wore my armor but not my helm until I actually walked onto the battlefield for the first time as Laurehér, for I did not want anyone to guess from my appearance that I was someone important. In the course of the struggle, I came upon Ingwion gravely wounded and beset by the enemy with his guard falling about him. I recognized him as a leader of the elven army and knew it was imperative that he not die. I defended him as he lay unconscious until I was the only one standing though I had taken a few wounds myself. More orcs approached, but as I raised my sword again, I felt the rending of my bond with Faroniel. The shock and pain of it drove me to my knees just as the shock of losing my bond with Eärwen had done. The two nearest orcs swung at me and I felt nothing as I watched my blood spray all over me and them. There was a bright flash as Maiar appeared all around me and the orcs died instantly. I…I think I died for a time as well.”

“You did.”

Arafinwë snapped out of his reverie and turned to see a Maia standing just behind him.

“Lord Eonwë!” Arafinwë exclaimed.

Everyone started to rise, but Eonwë motioned for them to remain seated, then placed his hands on Arafinwë’s shoulders. The gesture brought comfort and peace as strength flowed through to Arafinwë, causing him to relax, but it effectively kept him from rising as well.

“What Arafinwë is telling you is true. And if I may, I will continue the tale from here for a time.”

“Why?” Angaráto asked angrily, smacking his hand hard on the table. “Why are you here? Why was he allowed to go through with his marriage to that woman? Our grandfather had to wait twelve years as we counted them then by the light of the Trees before he was allowed to remarry after Miriel died, yet with our amillë still living, our atar was allowed to remarry. Why was nothing done to stop this?”

“Everything happens for a reason, Child,” Eonwë said gravely. “And while many of the happenings in Aman are under our influence, very little which happens outside of Aman is under our control. When Arafinwë was lost to us, I was informed by Manwë that he was safe, but that we were not to search for him beyond the party that first departed to look for him. I was told that he would be returned to us in time, but for his sake, for the healing of his body and spirit that needed to take place, he needed to remain where he was.”

“So you abandoned him,” Findaráto exclaimed rising to his feet and pounding his fist on the table as well, “and condoned a second marriage to a mortal no less and…and children,” he gestured angrily at Aicanáro, “when his wife was still alive?”

“I was following orders from the High King of all of Eä. I personally condoned nothing. I did not know what had become of your atar. I can assure you that your atar was suitably punished for his unwitting transgressions against the laws and customs of the Eldar as set forth by the Valar. However, Findaráto, I am appalled that you would speak disparagingly of mortals when you yourself gave up your kingdom and your own life to aid a mortal. If you do not now repent of that noble and honorable sacrifice, then I suggest you be very careful in how you speak of your atar’s mortal wife, for she and her children brought him healing he could not have found anywhere else. She saved his life and his spirit when she succored him for those years. If he had died from the wounds he received the day he left camp, his spirit would even now still reside in Mandos, awaiting healing. In less than seven years, she and her children achieved what Námo would have taken many yéni to achieve in Mandos. If you truly love your atar, then all of you owe that woman and her children your gratitude!”

Red-faced, Findaráto sat down heavily. Resting his elbows on the table, he put his head in his hands for a time, silent and not looking at anyone.

In a calmer voice, Eonwë added, “It has been my experience time and again that evil which Morgoth begins oft is turned to unforeseen good by Eru Iluvatar. This was one of those times.”

Eonwë squeezed Arafinwë’s shoulders, then leaned over, whispering so only he could hear, “Be at peace, Child. You have not lost them. They are more angry with the situation and with the Powers than they are with you. Now ask me your question.”

Arafinwë did not wonder how Eonwë knew, for he had fought at the Maia’s side for too long to question his knowledge of anything. “Faroniel and the children healed me and saved me. Broken as I was, what could I possibly have given them back in return?”

“You gave us our lives,” Aicanáro answered simply. “Before amillë died, she told Andreth and I that she had despaired of ever being happy again or ever having a family again before you came along. She had been very lonely and you gave her purpose again and hope. She loved you so very much as did we. Andreth and I never questioned our atar’s love for us and often asked each other if we thought atar would be pleased with what we had done and what we had become. It may seem silly, but we used those last perceptions of you from the perspective of five-year-olds as a sort of guide to the choices we made in our lives. We saw you do what was right and noble and you were always loving and caring to us and to amillë. We wanted you to be proud of us, and amillë told us as she lay dying to be sure to make you proud.”

He chuckled as he blinked at the tears glistening in his eyes. “If you are not proud of Andreth then I really would like to know how she could have done better than becoming the first queen of Númenor. As for me, I wanted to be like my atar, so I took up his trade. Of course now I realize that I took up his hobby and Andreth actually took up his trade, but still…”

The others in the room smiled or joined him in quietly laughing as well.

After a few moments, Angaráto asked, “You said that atar died. What did you mean by that?”

Eonwë sighed, guilt marring his visage. “We arrived just too late to prevent the last two wounds that Arafinwë took. When I reached his side, his fëa was departing. Námo did stay his complete departure and spoke with him for a time while I forceably healed his body to make it habitable again. Had he been anyone else other than perhaps Ingwion, he would have been permitted to die for his wounds were too severe to survive. Even a Maia would have been unhoused by what was done to him.”

Everyone looked questioningly at Eonwë, asking why, so he further elaborated.  “The Noldorin army believed that he had been taken prisoner by Morgoth and their anger over this fueled them in battle. However, if they learned he was dead, I knew the army would fall apart. Already his absence had taken an enormous toll on morale and we were losing many more in the fighting than we should have been. It had become so bad that I kept the Noldor back from fighting whenever I safely could. King Arafinwë’s mere presence was an inspiration to the troops for all that everyone knew he had endured in his life and overcome. His folk loved him and admired him greatly. When he first disappeared, the entire army wanted to go searching for him. I had to limit the numbers who went. This war was so important and the Noldor so necessary to any hope of victory that extraordinary measures were permitted to assure his continued survival.”

“Atar, what did Námo say to you?” Findaráto asked. “Did he tell you what a nuisance we were and beg you not to join us in Mandos?”

Arafinwë smiled, relived that his eldest son was still speaking to him. “No, he told me nothing of most of my kin residing with him. He would not allow me to speak with Faroniel for her spirit had already departed for the place appointed for mortal spirits. He did however allow me to speak with Aicanáro.” He caught the confused look on his youngest son’s face and clarified, “My elder son named Aicanáro. We talked long about his love for Andreth and the choice he had made to never return to life until the Second Music when elves and mortals will be reunited and reborn again. I told him I completely understood his choice and I also told him of my regret that he did not marry Andreth. When I told him about Faroniel, he told me he was proud of me for having the courage to do what he chose not to do in life. He…he also told me that he was comforted that I would have an Aicanáro in his place and asked me to let the other Aicanáro fill the void he knew he had left in me.”

“What?” Angaráto demanded, his face filling with anguish. “Atar! You…you mean our little brother is not coming back?”

“Yes, my love, that is what I mean. He is not coming back.” Arafinwë sadly confirmed, his heart aching as he looked around the table at the mournful reactions to this news.

Eonwë rubbed Arafinwë’s shoulders reassuringly. Handkerchiefs appeared on the table in front of those who obviously needed them and were gratefully accepted. Leaning forward once again, Eonwë whispered, “You have carried the burden of that knowledge in your heart for a long time. I am proud of you for having the courage to tell them at last. The news is painful, but necessary for them so they can go on and let go of the anguish of unfulfilled expectation at his lack of rebirth.”

More comfort and peace flowed into Arafinwë, making it all the easier to endure his family’s emotions while keeping his own under control.

Aicanáro looked at him, his face betraying an array of troubled feelings. “Your Maj--…Atar. May I call you atar, at least for tonight?”

“You have just as much right to do so as they do.”

Aicanáro smiled in pleased wonder, whispering “atar” under his breath a few times before addressing Arafinwë again. “Atar, did you choose my name or did amillë?”

Arafinwë sighed, feeling a little embarrassed, but Eärwen squeezed his hand and smiled in amusement. “Your amillë told me she wanted to name your sister Andreth and she suggested that we could name you for Andreth’s love. I have to admit that it felt right to me somehow to have a son named Aicanáro not realizing I already did. So I consented. I hope you two were not too horrified to be named after ill-fated lovers from a book.”

Aicanáro smiled, “No, we were not horrified. We were amused and a little embarrassed when we were old enough to understand that the choice to name us such was likely to honor them, but we recovered well enough and forgave you both.”

Arafinwë returned the smile with a fond one of his own.

When everyone else had calmed enough, Falmamírë regarded Eonwë coolly, her voice quavering as she spoke, “Y-you said that my atar was punished for his transgression. Why? What was done to him?”

Again Eonwë sighed. “Even though your atar acted without his memories or knowledge of who or what he was, he still transgressed by taking another wife while his first one lived and without the blessing of the Valar. In punishment, he was forbidden to return to his children or ever speak to them again in Endórë. It was cruel and perhaps overly harsh, but we could not afford for him to leave and we could not risk the damage that the knowledge of his actions was sure to do to the Army of Light as a whole.”

“That was cruel!” She cried.

“Yes, it was. But it was necessary, as I am certain even your atar has realized now.”

Arafinwë nodded grimly.

Eonwë added, “He did receive word of Andreth’s fate and assurance that she had far better life than he ever could have provided for her. He also has had word ever since of the actions and lives of her descendants, which is part of the reason why he has been so upset lately. He shares in Eärendil and Elwing’s grief over the current actions of their children many generations removed. He had long believed that his son was dead, but now Aicanáro has been returned to him.”

Wiping at the tears starting down his face, Arafinwë gave his youngest son a tremulous smile which was returned to him in kind.

Eonwë patted Arafinwë on the shoulder. “You all will be staying Eldamas for some until my Lord Manwë determines it is safe for you to return to Tirion. It is his hope that you will take this time as a newly complete family – or as complete a family as you can be at this time – and get to know each other. He advises against public proclamations of kinship, but your family can still grow close without folk bowing to another Prince Aicanáro.”

Arafinwë patted Eonwë’s hand in gratitude. “Thank you, my friend.”

“You are most welcome,” he replied and then he simply was not there anymore.

Eärwen squeezed Arafinwë’s hand and nodded toward Aicanáro. Arafinwë nodded in acknowledgement then rose from his chair. Walking around the table, he stopped behind Aicanáro. He held out his hand and Aicanáro slowly rose. Stepping away from the chair, he allowed Arafinwë to pull him into his embrace. Long they stood there atar and son, tears on both of their faces, neither seeming to want to be the first to let go.

Eärwen joined them and soon the entire family encompassed the two. Arafinwë’s family was finally together and he was at peace.

The End.

Author's Note: This story was 6+ years in the writing. I would very much like to hear what you think of it now that you've made it to the end.