NOTE/DISCLAIMER: Nothing belongs to me except the unrecognizable. Council of Elrond website referenced.

Secrets Untold

Nolwi threw the book to the floor with a cry. She had felt the lifelessness of her daughter's body through Thranduil. Her stomach hardened into a knot, pulse racing uncontrollably. That was how her oldest had ended; she had sacrificed herself for an unworthy King, steeped in the hatred and pride of old. His inability, or unwillingness, to see past the strife brought her daughter's fate to the tragic end that it had come to. Yet, the words of Vanimë rang in her mind as clear as bells:

This memory from my younger years came back to me as I lay on the leaf-strewn ground of Mirkwood's forest. Of all the memories, this one was buried the deepest, for it held so many feelings for me. Anger, of course, but not at my father; rather it was directed towards my mother. There was no legitimate reason for her to have abandoned my sister and me; she had no excuse. Over the course of the eons I lost my softer side as Amorith became my new life. I had no choice; I had to look after Vanië and she needed someone strong. I lost the things that were the most beautiful about me, that I cherished the most about myself: my love of dance and song, my arbitrary nature, my desire to travel. I know mother left because she could not handle the way my father changed, but what of her daughters? Did she not have an obligation towards us? We were not children, yet we were still young and easily malleable. We could have succumbed to the malice of the Oath just as easily as my sire and his father did. Nothing was certain then.

It is often looked back upon in the lore of the ancient Eldar that the most evil deed done was the taking of the Oath by the House of Fëanor.I have always regarded another deed, much lesser known and very private, as being of equal rank. My mother's repudiation of my sister and me is also an evil deed. From that we learned how even the supposedly strong ties of blood and kinship, something the Elves have ever prided themselves upon, can be severed. We learned to mistrust those we came into contact with. Love was something we did not firmly believe in, and even after Thranduil had professed himself to me in Doriath I was quite skeptical. It took me many years to believe him. So when he cast me out of his realm, the pain was unbearable. I was already wounded leaving Valinor, and my time in Middle-earth only increased my suffering.

"I killed her," she whispered to Arqueno.

The Teleri lifted his head slowly upon hearing her voice. Silver tears tracked down his face, betraying the emotions he was attempting to hide. Not out of embarrassment; Nolwi had seen him weep before, rather it was out of shame at his own self. He had recounted Vanimë as a daughter of evil, tainted by her blood relation to Fëanor. Arqueno challenged and denied the very struggles she lived through, and died by, because of his incapacity to understand her situation.

"That was why Vanië bore her book with her…" he said aloud.

Nolwi looked curiously at him, her own tears soaking her cheeks.

"Vanimë knew no one would believe her story; how could anyone? She went through those circumstances alone, no one else did. Not even Vanië. She was so alone…"

Nolwi smiled now, taking her husband's hands in hers, kissing them gently. "You do not hate her anymore, then?" she asked. "You finally know her pain?"

Arqueno shook his head.

"Nay, my love, I do not hate her. Rather, I hate the arrogance her family forced upon her, all of the hardships she had to endure. How must it have felt, to be a pillar of solitude amidst the ensuing chaos? What forces of willpower did she have to summon to forsake her soul, to leave behind all tokens of self: name, family, heritage, language even! Everything from that moment was a lie; how alike to her sires she must have felt, yet how very different. Verily they are the Cursed and Dispossessed, yet they remained steadfast in their beliefs. Never has any of the Edain or Eldar been this unwavering; it is not for naught that the Noldo have been heralded as the most noble. Their actions have been both unspeakable and great. I cannot, though, know her pain personally; I can only try my utmost to comprehend her situations and understand her reactions."

"How will Vanië go on without her?"

Arqueno's eyes glinted suddenly.

"If she has died, then she should be here in Mandos."

Nolwi was quiet.

"Perhaps she does not wish to see me; I have erred in her favor."

Her husband wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her into him, placing his head on her shoulder. She sobbed quietly into her hands, ruing the day she had cursed her family. She had been warned of the consequences of her prayer and that it would not be reversed. Now she had the opportunity to reunite with her oldest daughter after countless ages, but would be refused. How could Nolwi explain to Vanimë the true reason she had deserted her and her sister on the docks of Alqualondë? Vanimë had been young then, innocent, yet possessed with strength of mind and heart. It was in this that Nolwi had put her faith in, which was not a legitimate reason she now knew. How could she have guaranteed herself then that these elements would remain in her older daughter, that they would not dissipate later? All that Nolwi had were hopes and fears; even now these two elements were her only companions. She felt the darkness of old returning.

"Would you like to journey, my lady?" Arqueno asked her quietly.

She turned her eyes, still wet with tears, upon his fair face. Her breath stopped in her throat.

"Where to?" she said in barely a whisper, trying not to believe what she truly desired him to say.

"To Mandos' Halls."

He had uttered what she both hoped and feared. The Halls were a source of fright for her. For many a century after the separation between her and Caranthir, she sent many heralds seeking news of her husband, at first fearfully, then as time went by, only as a matter of caution. That habit stopped soon after she wed Arqueno, even when the guilt crept back to her during the deeps of the nights. Never had she searched for word of her daughters there, having assumed that they would always come to her. Now, however, Nolwi knew that was false hope and arrogance on her part. She did not deserve their return to her household. The cruel words that Vanië overheard stung Nolwi's heart and soul. She was no mother; she was a partaker of evil. Arqueno felt her body trembling, and could only guess at the source of her anxiety. Although he knew a few reasons, he refused to delve any deeper. It was wise not to probe too deeply into the mysteries of the heart and mind; severe mental unrest, permanent at times, could happen. So he remained quiet, enveloping her in his strong arms, communicating his love and support to her wordlessly. They remained this way for some time, until at last Nolwi dared to speak her thoughts aloud.

"I am frightened of journeying there." she said. "I am wary of what truths shall be uncovered."

"You will not journey there alone; I will accompany you."

"'Tis not the journey that I fear, but rather the end of it, Arqueno. I have not been that faithful to you, for I have kept secrets from you. I am not so very unlike Caranthir, am I?"

Her husband embraced her tightly, responding, "We all have our secrets, do we not? Come, my dear, let us prepare ourselves for the journey. I pray we may both find some solace."

Nolwi stared at her husband for a moment, wondering what he meant. Yet he did not pay her any attention, instead gathering up the book she had thrown to the floor. He placed it inside a velvet coverlet before handing it to her, saying, "I shall go to the stable and ready the horses."

Arqueno was quiet on his solitary trip to the stable. He could as easily have ordered a servant to prepare the horses, but he needed the time alone. He was as apprehensive of meeting Vanimë as was his wife. His hatred had not all subsided, but he was starting to control it. As he had told Nolwi, he was trying to understand situations and reactions rather than succumb to mere blind and arrogant hate. Although much time had passed since the first stirring of darkness regarding the Silmarilli, in some ways time did not seem to have passed at all. Any mention of Curufinwë would rouse many grumblings and curses from the Eldar of the Blessed Realm, specifically the Teleri, his and Nolwi's people. They did not seem to possess the ability to live with their pain; it only increased tenfold with the passing of the long eons. Indeed, when the first of the returning Exiles arrived after the lift of their Ban, the wary inhabitants of Alqualondë welcomed them very coldly. Arqueno himself recalled standing on the docks, staring critically at the anxious Noldor as they disembarked from their ships. He could not fathom the notion of trying to understand their plight then, yet here he was now, beginning to sympathize with the granddaughter of the accursed Curufinwë himself! How he wished to take up his sword and avenge his lost people. Yet his kin, King Ingwë, bade him to steady his hand and soul, even though his blood boiled.

Arqueno was inside the stable now, breathing in the mixed scent of hay and dust. He nodded at the servant who cleaned the stalls, shoveling the old muck out and replacing it with fresh hay. The Teleri stifled a slight sigh, his thoughts now on the heavier matter. His brief encounter with Vanië brought back the devastating reality of marital affairs. It was not customary—no, rather—never was it that a true lady of the Eldar remarried after the loss of her husband, being that the lost spirits returned newly embodied after some time. Such were the laws, and never were they contested, for there was no need. Yet Arqueno had always loved Nolwi, and great was his grief at her marriage to Caranthir. Patiently, though with a grieving heart, did he bear onward through the years until the malice of Curufinwë and his sons emerged. He could not quell the joy in his heart upon learning of Nolwi's separation from her husband. Yet the matter of the law remained.

He recalled pleading desperately with his King and kinsman, Ingwë, beseeching him to implore the Vala Manwë with whom he dwelt in Ilmarin for leniency. The matter remained unspoken of, until one evening such as this, Arqueno found himself on the marble floor of Manwë's great halls, groveling at the feet of his King, begging him to intercede on his behalf.

"I feel as if I might fade, I who have never trodden upon anything save this soil of the Blessed Realm. Surely what sin have I committed; what sin has she done? Finwë himself wed another, but I have wed none. This evil of Curufinwë was not ever perceived, shall she not be set free? Can she not have my pure love and tenderness? Or must she dwell forever bound to one who cast her aside, a Kin-slayer? Perhaps peace and understanding can come of this." he wept.

Ingwë looked with pity at Arqueno from his throne.

"Let me confer and see what I can do. Please stay as my guest."

"I cannot contain myself here for fear of the response and my reaction. I shall return home and await the answer. I accept whatever verdict will be agreed upon."

So Arqueno had spent the fortnight journeying slowly back to his home. Worry creased his brow with each step he took closer to his abode and farther away from Taniquetil. As the mountaintop receded further and further into the distance, his anxiety and fear increased. What would he do if the high Vala conferred with his equals and they decided to rain their wrath upon him for daring to defy laws? What if he were cast out of Valinor like the Noldor he despised? What arrogance made him believe he was on the same status as Finwë to be another exception to the customary law? What had overcome him to even make such a bold move? It was not evil, no, but the Kin-slaying began innocently enough with the possession of the Trees' Lights in the Simarilli. As the famed Teleri saying went: "Even Fëanor was born pure and innocent". It was a line familiar to all the children of the Teleri, who usually responded with a roll of their eyes. All Arqueno could do was pray fervently, yet not allow his hopes to soar too high.

The response came two months after his arrival. He was at the lake behind his house, feeding his beloved swans just as Vanië had done of late. He heard the softest crunch of grass beneath the herald's boots advancing swiftly towards him. Arqueno tried to hide his emotions. The slightest shake of his hands as he fed the alabaster swans betrayed him. The herald stopped shortly before him, bowing fluidly. His demeanor was grim; only the silver gleam of his eyes beneath his helm, shaped like that of the great Eagles of his Lord Manwë, gave away anything. Arqueno bowed in return, for he did not know whether the herald was of Elven kind or Maia, and what did it truly matter anyway? The message would be delivered either way. He indicated several chaises nearby for the two of them to sit on, and called for the servants to bring some food and drink. But the herald spoke then, after a lengthy period of silence, refusing to allow himself to rest:

"I have not come to partake of your hospitality, as honorable and appreciated as it is."

Arqueno's heart skipped a few beats. He was thankful for the servants who appeared then, and partook himself of the wine they offered. The herald waited for him to take a few sips before speaking again, standing directly in front of him in a formidable stance. Arqueno was reminded of the Eagles on the hunt; did they have this pose before capturing their prey? Was he now the Lord of the Wind's prey? The symbolism was too much for his nerves to handle at that moment.

"Long has your case been thought over by His Majesty, Manwë. His decision was made only after careful deliberation with others of his equals and those lesser yet with sound judgment. Before I inform you of His decision, is there nothing you would do to gain what you desire? Apart from seeking the pity of your own King, and that of the Valar, is there anything? For there is naught that comes without a price; such is the way of the world, equilibrium maintained."

Arqueno did not reply immediately, allowing this information to sink into his mind carefully. From what he heard, he was able to glean rather important notes. Firstly, the length of time meant there was some conflict even amongst the Valar themselves regarding the marital law. His hope soared a little at this despite his better judgment. Secondly, and most importantly, he was being asked to contemplate a bargain. If the Vala he had beseeched so earnestly did not think his case worthy, a bargain would not have been mentioned. He had never thought of this possibility, yet looking back now with this information, he wondered how he had overlooked that option. The Noldor gave up returning to Valinor in their quest to return to Middle-earth. They believed in their Oath as dearly as he believed in Nolwi. Truly, love rendered its victims helpless, and Arqueno was desperate now. He thought wildly of what sacrifice he would endure. As the images of Finwë, Míriel Serindë, and Fëanor flashed through his mind, he said, "Children."

The herald was taken aback as he looked at him. Clearly he had not expected this, the same as Arqueno. The Teleri would not refute his word now. Whatever it would take for him to obtain Nolwi as his wife he was prepared to sacrifice. The herald's eyes glittered again as he cocked his head, and Arqueno again recalled dueling Eagles during a fight, sizing one another up.

"You would vanquish your blessing of children to have Nolwi?" the herald said softly.

Arqueno nodded, swallowing hard, yet holding firmly.

"Very well…"

It was in this manner that he had obtained his wife. He recalled the herald asking him something before leaving, which at the time he had considered insignificant:

"If you seek in some manner revenge, would you repent of your plea?"

Now Arqueno understood. There was nothing that was not some semblance of seeking revenge when it regarded the Fëanorians. The Teleri were not fully at ease with the Kin-slaying and its perpetrators, even after all these long Ages of the world. The serenity of Valinor seemed to only breed more contempt and ill will in the hearts of some of its inhabitants. That question came back to haunt Arqueno later, when after a time, he desired children with Nolwi, to show her what a true family of Valinor was like. He had grown wary of her tales of her daughters, convinced that they were as full of malice as their sire, and his own sire. Even though Nolwi was content with no children from her new husband, he was not. The realization of his bargain with the Valar, and the herald's statement, silenced him. He had never told Nolwi for fear of his own reactions, not hers. He had said himself he only desired her, and no one else. Yet when Vanië had appeared, and he beheld Nolwi's satisfaction, he felt his heart go out to this daughter of his wife even as his soul grew cold in remembrance of his solemn promise.

His tears fell anew as he planted a kiss atop his stead's muzzle, saying, "I have not been faithful to you either Nolwi, meldanya (my dear). I am alike to Caranthir as well, keeping secrets."