Oleanne: Thank you! I'm very glad you like 'this' Amárië, I really wanted her to give this impression to the reader, and although I can be slow at times, I should manage to finish this story.
Finrod had many names, he was born Findaráto (his father-name) and his mother called him Ingoldo (literally, 'The Noldo', as in one that is outstanding or it could mean 'the wise' also). Then Findárato became Finrod, and the Dwarves named him Felagund ('Hewer of caves'), the Men, Nóm ('Wisdom'), and, with all his titles, he ended up with quite a collection.
Those names are part of his identity and they'll be part of the fic also, because the names he got in Beleriand are new and strange to Amárië and the Elves who remained in Valinor, since they cannot have known Sindar yet and they never get to meet Men or Dwarves (well, one day they might see Tuor and Gimli, but that's later on). So I thought a little recap would be nice, because these names will keep popping up in the story.
F.A. 541
Chapter 2
Within the next few weeks, news of Findaráto's reembodiement spread everywhere in Aman and much was said about it, although no one knew for sure if what they were relating was true, for barely a couple of his closest family members had met him so far and they had shared very little information with outsiders. Strange words started circulating as well, in the language of the Telerin Elves who had remained in Beleriand, and, being repeated over and over, they soon reached Amárië's ears. She learned that, eastward, Findaráto had been known as Finrod Felagund, king of Nargothrond, Master of caves and Friend-of-Men and, if she thought it was quite like him to collect titles and befriend several folks, she also wondered who exactly was this Sindarin speaking Nóm - that was another of his names, apparently.
Truth was, Amárië felt utterly clueless as of how to act, and that was a rare occurence, as she had been ever renowned for her cleverness of mind. Part of her was, of course, immensely happy that Findaráto was back in Valinor, since she had so long dreaded he would never be allowed to return and that the Ban would never be lifted. On the other hand, it had been through death that he had reached the West at last - something that was completely unheard of in Aman - and Amárië dared not imagine what terrible sufferings Findaráto had had to face before passing away. It was a matter of great worry for her, who knew nothing of the wars of Beleriand, but whose imagination was always prone to the worst whenever she thought of him.
And Amárië was also ashamed of some of her fears, those she deemed to be selfish ones, for she could not help but being worried she and Findaráto might have become estranged, unwillingly, since their lives had been so different over the last centuries. After all, she had never left the bliss of the Undying Lands while he, he had crossed the ice and faced adventure, grief and death. She doubted her own capacity to understand what he had gone through - could she conceive what the vast lands of Beleriand, or worse, a battlefield, were like? And would he even want to tell her about it? The moment of their parting had been so painful that Amárië did not believe these sad memories could be erase by a single glance at each other, a simple touch of the hand, nor a kiss. Whatever their new relationship was going to be, it would require a great deal of efforts from them both, it seemed.
During these days, she spent most of her time out of her parents' dwelling, wandering on the slopes of the Taniquetil to avoid the inquiries of her peers, for among the Vanyar, Amárië herself had become the center of much unwanted attention. A great number of Elves in Valinor still remembered she had been betrothed to Findaráto and rightfully assumed she might have a better insight into his reincarnation. Yet Amárië sought solitude with such willfulness that she was barely seen for a while and some thought she had left for Tirion, whereas she had not even sent a message to lady Eärwen, whose maid had said she was welcomed whenever in lord Arafinwë's tower.
"You cannot hope to avoid everyone forever, Amárië," said her mother, the morning she had come back to their house, after having spent days away, in the forests.
"I was perhaps told earlier that he had been reembodied, however I know nothing they don't already."
"You need not make any account of what lady Eärwen's maid delivered to you, yet it seems you won't have to postpone your decision of meeting him or not any longer."
"Why so?"
"The Lady has come by while you were gone."
"Has she?" exclaimed Amárië, alarmed. "Has she waited long?"
"No, she did not linger here, she was rather in a hurry, I must say."
"What was the purpose of her visit?"
Amárië's heart was beating fast and she understood some matters could not be ignored anymore.
"She meant to invite you to some celebration lady Indis will be holding soon and she made sure to mention that your presence there would be highly appreciated," explained her mother.
"I suppose I cannot refuse..." sighed Amárië. "It had to happen, sooner or later."
"Your father and I will come along, if you wish."
"Of course."
"Will you be alright, dearest? I am sure lady Eärwen would not be offended, were you to decline her invitation."
"Oh, I would have once crossed the deadly ice rather than be sundered from him, I surely could muster some of this courage today to face him again," muttered Amárië, hugging her mother, burying her face against her.
"Remember, this is an unforeseen yet joyful event, however anxious you might feel now."
Amárië stayed silent, inhaling her mother's comforting scent, listening to her steady breath. Everything was calm for a while, and then...
"Amárië, it's been a whole week!"
The shriek had been Astarë's, her little sister, who came in the solar, hurrying towards her.
"What have you done? I missed you!" complained the child, hanging onto her leg.
"You know before you were born, I used to stay away for weeks or months sometimes," said Amárië, who bent down to put a kiss on Astarë's cheek. "I've always loved to travel."
"It is the first time we have been apart for so long, though."
"I won't do it again," promised Amárië.
Astarë had just reached the age of twelve and she was still a tiny thing with silky hair, whose color was so pale that it was almost white. When it came to running and dancing, she lacked no skills, yet she loved more being carried around by her parents or her elder sister, who all doted on her with great delight. Amárië and Astarë were very fond of one another, as was to be expected, and since the younger one already possessed wits beyond her years, the two of them often had long and open-hearted discussions. And so Astarë, even though she was a child, had understood well the turmoil Amárië was going through ever since she had learned that Findaráto had been reincarnated.
"Could I be of any help?" asked Astarë, putting her little hand in Amárië's. "Lady Eärwen said she would be happy if I could attend too. Would you mind if I came along?"
"No, absolutely not."
"Astarë, you will behave well, will you not?" said their mother who was still stroking Amárië's hair.
"I will! I must admit... I am quite eager to see him."
"It is no surprise, you heard much about him," said the elder sister.
"Amárië... you never told me... was it love at first sight?"
"Astarë, you should not bother your sister with such questions," scolded their mother.
"It is alright, Mother, I have no secret for her."
"And so, did you love upon seeing him?"
"No, we were friends at first. Very good friends."
Y.T. 1493 - Tirion
"Hanquento? Is that a name, really?"
He could not help but laugh a little and Amárië herself was grinning happily.
"You earned it well," she said, "you do always manage to answer all questions, after all."
"Should you be Maquentë, then? Since you are the one inquiring, most of the time."
"Maquentë? That is perhaps how my parents should have named me."
The two of them were talking a walk in Tirion, where Findaráto had invited Amárië to stay when he had understood she was highly unfamiliar with the city, even though her parents had been born there. They were already used to meet with each other every month or so, yet it was the first time Amárië had come up on Túna, for usually Findaráto was the one travelling to the Taniquetil or to Valimar.
"I could spread the word around and soon you shall be known throughout Aman as Amárië Maquentë, the most curious of the Vanyar."
"I shall like it," she nodded, smiling. "Although I do not seek fame."
"Do you not dream poets will sing your beauty?"
"No."
"Is it the swiftness of your mind that should be praised?"
"Neither."
"What will they say about you?"
"I do not know," she said, shrugging. "I am too young to be sung of."
"Oh, Amárië, what a disappointment," he said, chuckling merrily. "I was really looking forward hearing about the tales of Hanquento and Maquentë, does it not sound like their adventures will be utterly entertaining."
"Does one ever meet the unexpected on the sandy streets of Tirion?" wondered Amárië, glancing around. "Is this even sand...? The road is clearer than the beaches of Alqualondë..."
Earlier, Findaráto had made a whole speech about the towers, especially about Mindon Eldaliéva about which he seemed to know everything, but he had yet to say more about the rest of the city. And Amárië was suddenly so intrigued by this bright sand that she had stopped walking and had squatted, brushing the surface of the street with the tip of her fingers.
"They're grains of diamond," explained Findaráto, who had bent down as well. "What else could have been expected, after having climbed cristal stairs? Our craftsmen did take care of every single detail and you would have surely noticed by now that, aside from a touch of gold here and there, the whole city is white, and so the ground we step on."
That was how their strolls usually went like, for Amárië could be easily distracted by her surroundings, and she had an eye to spot the smallest things. As for Findaráto he was ever happy to provide her with whatever lore he could share on the matter of her inquiries and, being prone to sidetracking, he rarely limited himself to compendious answers.
"Right, your tree is white too," said Amárië as she straightened.
"Isn't the White tree what you loved most about my city? Or I should say our city, for our two people used to dwell here together when they settled in Valinor."
"The White Tree is magnificent," she answered at once, beaming.
"What of Mindon Eldaliéva and its silver beam? Or the Great Square?"
"All of it is fascinating, and your folk has the best goldsmiths," said Amárië. "The workshops are such busy places though, do you reckon it would be correct to have a closer look at them, especially the jewellers?"
Findaráto himself was fond of gems, and that day he wore finely wrought rings and a necklace adorned with emeralds that matched his dark green clothes. In comparison, Amárië's lilac attire was much simpler.
"What stone do you like best?"
"I do not know, I have yet to learn more about it."
"Amárië, you do have a favorite color, do you not?"
"Blue."
"And what would you chose, gold or silver?"
"Gold."
"Have you got any jewels?"
"I do, yes..." she said, sending him a puzzled look. "You are quite probing today, is something the matter, Hanquento?"
"Will you call me like this from now on, then?" he laughed, eluding her question.
"At times, yes."
"I shall think about another set of names, dear Maquentë, for I am not so sure our friendship can be described so easily."
"As you like," agreed Amárië, smiling. "But you have not told me yet why you are so curious about my taste or the goods I own."
"I've realized that by now you heard much about me and I so little about you," said Findaráto. "It is true I am rather expansive and never fears to embark on lengthy talk, yet it does not mean I cannot listen. Tell me, what do you like, Amárië?"
"Ah, what should I say? I favor trees over towers and gardens over houses, and I grew up by the light of Laurelin and Telperion and have never seen anything that could match their beauty. I think I could never live far from the Trees, I would probably fade in the darkness, as it would be a grievous separation."
She was silent for a few seconds and Findaráto could see she was collecting her thoughts - her brow had furrowed.
"I do not possess your talent with words, Hanquento, I do not know how to express my love for the Trees and for all things growing in Aman," she confessed.
"We have plenty of time ahead of us and there are a lot of streets in Tirion, I do not doubt you shall find the right words eventually, Maquentë," said Findaráto, extending his arm so she could take it. "And I am sure you won't need my help either."
"You are quite confident, Hanquento," said Amárië, giggling. "Then be ready, it is my turn to talk."
F.A. 541
Amárië and her family had been formally summoned to the halls of King Ingwë where lady Indis was holding her small gathering - the guests were few and closely related to Findaráto - and they were expected there at dusk. The road from their own dwelling was not a long one and so they departed at late afternoon, all clad in pale blue. Some of their neighbors were watching them quietly, as they passed by, yet it was only further up, when they neared the summit of mount Taniquetil, that they soon found they had some unexpected company.
"Ingorion, are you also on your way to lady Indis's dinner?" asked loudly lord Tárano, Amárië's father, as he beheld a tall Elf walking a couple of yards ahead of them.
The Elf turned around and, seeing Amárië and her family, he greeted them warmly.
"As it happens, I am, yes," he said after they had joined him. "Lord Arafinwë was kind enough to presume I might be glad to hear from his son, and from the Noldor who went into exile."
"Would your cousin have been part of lord Findaráto's household then?"
Lord Tárano, despite having nearly been a father-in-law to a Noldorin prince, was not exactly familiar with the Noldorin houses and their numerous lords.
"No, he swore allegiance to lord Turakáno, for we are of Elenwë's kin," explained Ingorion.
He then glanced at Amárië.
"It is a pleasure to see you," he told her, nodding.
Ingorion and Amárië had been acquainted to one another long ago, yet they had become close friends after the Noldor had gone into exile, when they had realized both of them had lost someone dear to Fëanor's folly. While Amárië had grieved for her betrothed, Ingorion had been deeply saddened that his cousin Laurefindil, whom he had loved like a brother, had left Aman, and he had spent much time comforting his aunt and uncle who had not followed their son to Beleriand.
"It is for me too, truly."
"And for me as well!" cried Astarë.
The little one had been holding her parents' hands, but as soon as she had seen Ingorion, she had come by her sister's side, clutching her dresses.
"I am very happy indeed you have been invited to this dinner, Astarë," said Ingorion, bending down so he could pat the child's head. "I'm afraid I do not visit often enough, do I?"
Astarë grinned broadly and she was staring at the Elf with obvious fondness - it was no secret Ingorion was one of her favorite playmate, mostly because she loved to climb on his shoulders and order him around.
"Let me hold you," said Amárië, kneeling down to grab Astarë, "so you won't need raise your head high everytime someone addresses you."
Now that they were in sight of Ingwë's halls, she was starting to feel tensed and she thought having her sister close to her would soothe some of her restlessness.
"You are not so tall yourself," said Astarë, giggling. "I do wonder if I will end up being like you!"
"It is not so bad, is it?" sighed the elder sister, turning towards Ingorion and glancing at him.
"I shan't say a word about all this," he laughed, knowing very well Amárië's short stature was a delicate matter.
"Oh well... should I hand you over to Ingorion, then? Is that what you wish, young lady?"
And Astarë got what she had wanted, perched in Ingorion's arms, while her father walked by their side. Behind them, Amárië managed to smile, despite her growing nervousness, for she was always in a good mood when her little sister jested. Yet her mirth was short-lived, she had just glimpsed five silhouettes standing on the vast terrace, near the gates of the King's dwelling, and one of them was achingly familiar.
"I beg you, take my hand, Mother," she whispered as they moved forward.
"I am right near you, dearest," was lady Calimë's firm reply.
On top of the stairs, lady Indis stood forth, clad in luminous white robes, and an intricate golden circlet adorned her brow. Next were Findis, the lady's eldest child, and lord Arafinwë, whose bright eyes shone with kindness. His wife was slightly behind him, her long silvery hair neatly braided, and she was perhaps the one smiling most earnestly, for her arm was linked to her son's. Findaráto was farthest, yet Amárië saw him first, and saw him only.
The maid had not lied. It was just as if he had never left. Nothing had changed.
His pale golden hair surely was a familiar sight to the Vanyar, yet he was lofty and sturdy, like any prince of Finwë's blood. His grey gaze sparkled brightly, an ever-burning flame was in it, and its light was that of a star. Even his hands, his beautiful hands and his long slender fingers, had remained unchanged and bore no traces of the hardships he had gone through during his years in Beleriand. There he stood, looking as regal as ever, and Amárië, petrified, found herself unable to speak. It did not last long however, for everyone else spoke cheerfully and the parents supplied for their children's lack of words with enthusiastic greetings. For Findaráto too did not utter a word and, after a few moments, he murmured something in his mother's ear and left the terrace, heading into the halls hurriedly.
Amárië had often imagined the two of them would be reunited someday. Mostly, she had pictured that, as she would be walking in a clearing at dawn, or in a forest under the stars, she would see him, standing a few feet ahead of her. At first, she would think he was a dream, a mere fantasy, and she would walk toward him, calling him Ingoldo, like in old times. Yet he, the living miracle, he would simply open his arms and hold her against him, so she would understand all of that was true. And she would hear him whisper 'I love you' in her ear, seconds before his lips would be on hers.
She had never deemed serious her flights of fancy, however reality seemed much bitter as she watched him disappear into the halls - he had fled before her, had he not?
It'll be mentioned later, but in this story Amárië was quite young when the Trees were killed. In 1493 (years of the trees) she was 17, although it's 17 valian years, so around 163 of our years. In comparison, Finrod was born in 1300 Y.T..
Oh and Hanquento would mean 'one who answers' and Maquentë 'one who questions'.
