MANY HAPPY RETURNS
The Dagor Dagorath has come, and the shadow of battle looms over the beings of Arda. But despite the fears for the impending battle, joy is found in the few reunions that the Final Battle brings.
(Disclaimer: I own nothing. Forgive me for deviating from canon, though there is very little on the Dagor Dagorath anyway.
Also in the works are Haleth/Caranthir, Fëanor/Nerdanel, and Beleg/Túrin. Thanks for reading!)
1. Like a Moth to a Flame (Aegnor/Andreth)
A voice lifts her out of darkness, calling her name with a gentle murmur. Her voice is buoyed at the sound, her fëa stirring in response as one raised from a long sleep.
Andreth, it intones, it is time.
There is something akin to fear that she feels in her spirit, insofar as whatever emotion fëar could experience. She has lingered far too long in the Halls of Mandos, tarrying for the sake of her love. For she feared what was beyond even the grasp of the Valar, and knew that Námo had finally come to send her to the realm that awaited the Secondborn past their fëa's fading. Her spirit shirked at the thought, and she knew the Doomsman sensed it, for what seemed to be a booming chuckle rumbled in the emptiness around her.
Wise-woman you may have been, young one, but this time you have misjudged my intention. There was a note of humour that lingered in his voice, and her fëa flickered in response.
Forgive me, Lord Námo, for clinging to this spirit. I wish not to pass into the unknown realm, for I fear I will forget…forget the flame I once had in life.
Child, have peace. I send you now not to the unknown, but rather to grant you another chance. Such is Eru's will, for the Doom of this world is nigh approaching; and you shall play a part in the final undoing of evil.
The Vala's words instill a hopefulness in her spirit, one that roars with intensity through her entire being. She can feel her fëa brighten with hope, with the knowing that she was being given a second chance, a determination to conquer the evils threatening her once-homeland. She allowed the brightness to envelop her, cloaking her in a seemingly familiar softness as she lets herself to be pulled into darkness.
She was urged into wakefulness by the soft crackling of a fire. At once, her eyes fluttered open and she studied the room around her. It was plain and dimly lit, with a simple wooden bed on which she rested and the sole entrance a sturdy wooden door, inlaid with elven script. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, relishing in the feeling of having a corporeal form again.
Her eyes turned to the hearth, whose heat cast a warm glow on her face. The flames seemed to call to her, dancing and waving gently in greeting.
She saw him in the fire. A mere glimpse, a reminder of his face as she had remembered last. That day he had taken leave of her with little but a sad smile, and she knew then with a finality that they would not see each other again in that lifetime. And that fate they had both accepted, not wanting to chase a love beyond what had already been given.
"I did not wish you to bear the pains of seeing me weak and feeble. What would you have done, had you stayed by my side until I stooped with age?" She murmurs to the fire, and the face she sees does not waver with her question.
"I would have loved you, as I have for centuries," it replies, and it is then she realizes that he is indeed there; not just a flame, but her flame, with the same keen eyes and golden hair like lightning framing his face. Her breath is taken away as it was the first time they met, but she does not turn to him.
"Forgive me, Andreth Saelind. I have done you grievous harm. I scorned you, yet I loved you with a fire that was terrifying and beautiful. The mention of your name would call up a storm in my blood. I turned away because I feared; but fear I would no longer, if you would have me by your side to face the darkness."
Though she makes no reply, she turns, and sees he has not changed; the same face in all her memories of the golden days in Dorthonion that seemed endless among the clusters of pine and rolling hills.
He looks at her and finds the forgiveness he seeks in her wordless behaviour, in the way her gaze dances across his face as if drinking in the very sight of him. There is an unfulfilled longing between them that has lasted an Age and more, one that went ignored last they met; this time he knows with certainty he will not falter in his step towards her.
And with the same certainty, she knows she loves him, this perfect warrior of the Firstborn. And the doubt that gnawed at her of a union between Men and Elves has long fled her mind as she takes his hand and rises.
For the first time, they are together.