Finally we have the sons of Fëanor! For future reference, I follow the plotline where neither of the twins die at Losgar. I absolutely cannot reconcile that, and I don't think their father would be able to either. Warning for shameless fluff. Please enjoy!
Homecoming ~ Part V
Never had I danced as I did that night. In my youth, dances had been associated with stiff robes, irritating, flirtatious maidens, and poorly-hidden attempts by the lords of court to marry their daughters off to me. That night was entirely different. The music was fiery and playful, worlds apart from the stately waltzes I had grown to hate, and the accompanying steps were just as wild. Nerdanel knew all of them; she never once missed a beat. I responded to her as best I could, not knowing what to do, but somehow, I did not feel awkward. We were of one mind and one soul, she and I, our movements flowing into each other, creating something beautiful. By the end of it, I was breathless and trembling with exertion, but never could I recall being so blissfully happy.
My exhilaration lasted only until we departed the city and walked out onto the hill of Túna. The torchlight fell away behind us, the stars came to the fore, and a full chorus of crickets sang from the grass. The world could not have been more peaceful, more right.
Nerdanel's next words, however, froze my blood.
"The boys should all be home by now, I would think."
Of all those from whom I ought to beg forgiveness, my seven sons ranked most highly. They had suffered most and longest from the legacy of ruin I bound them to, right to the very end. There was nothing I could say or do to make reparations for that, for the full measure of devotion they gave to my fruitless quest. Nothing could erase their pain or their despair, even now.
"Do they hate me?" I murmured, with bitter self-loathing.
Nerdanel turned in the middle of the path and laid a hand on my chest, halting me. "Do not ever think so," she said, low and fierce. "At any moment, they could have forsworn the Oath and consigned themselves to the Everlasting Darkness. Believe me, I know there were times when they found it at an attractive alternative. But they carried on - not out of a desire for the Silmarilli, not out of fear of the Void, but out of love and loyalty to you. They could not stand to fail you, certainly not after your death. All they wanted was to fulfill the Oath and give you peace."
There is no peace in the Void, my brave ones, I thought, my throat constricting painfully. We all learned that before long. Dear Lord, how desperate must you have been, to wish for that place as a respite from your vow?
I shook my head, unable to speak, hating myself.
Nerdanel took my hands and looked kindly into my face.
"If ever they did hate you," she said, "it was for dying and leaving them, and nothing else."
Fierce love for my family kindled within me. I drew Nerdanel close, my arms encircling her waist. She laid her hands on my shoulders and rested her head in the hollow at the base of my neck.
"I will never leave you again. I swear it."
I kissed her brow to seal my promise, and she smiled. "I shall hold you to it."
I had made another oath, just as I had that first day in the Gardens of the Reborn, when I had sworn to Eru that I would never again take life for granted. I knew better than most the consequences of such vows, and yet, I was unafraid. With my family as my anchor, I knew I could keep both of my vows, and I knew they would bring healing rather than harm.
There was never a more welcoming sight than that of the house in which Nerdanel and I had raised our children. Little about it had changed; it was as small and charming as ever. Ivy climbed the trellises leaning against the side walls, draping over the railing of the porch that encircled the building. A simple stone bench and a fountain of similar style, the first works I had attempted without the guidance of Lord Aulë or Mahtan, sat beside the bright flowerbeds. Silver lights to match those in Tirion were strung from the roof-eaves, and two lanterns hung on hooks flanking the steps to the front door.
I leaned against the faded gate-post for a moment and closed my eyes, breathing in the familiar smells of dew-damp grass, blossoming flowers, freshly-tilled earth, and burning lamps. It was all so real, so vivid, and yet I could scarcely believe I was truly home at last. It was like a beautiful dream from which I would wake to find myself back in the choking dark of the Void. It seemed too fine a gift to be given to one such as I.
Nerdanel watched me a moment in silence, then said softly, "Are you ready?"
Regrets and sorrows welled up within me, and I forced them viciously aside. No, I was not ready. I would never be ready to meet the ones I had wronged above all others, but I would meet them all the same. I loved them too much to stay away any longer.
"No, but I must do this. I shall find neither peace nor happiness if I do not."
"They will be overjoyed to see you," said Nerdanel, and led me inside.
The house was dim as we entered, the lamps burning low. Even so, the warmth of the place was undeniable. With the funds at my disposal as a crown prince, Nerdanel and I could easily have lived in a palace of our own, but I had always found such dwellings cold and uninviting, as had she. Thus we had both chosen a simpler, more modest home on the edge of Tirion, away from the backbiting politics of the royal square, and never once had we regretted it. My feelings had not changed. A few pieces of furniture had been moved, perhaps, and Nerdanel seemed to have added a number of sculptures to her collection of works, but other than that, the house was as welcoming as ever. The plain kitchen table, the wrought-iron chandelier, the deep armchairs before the stone fireplace... All evoked memories of light and laughter, and happiness so complete I could scarcely believe it had been real. I stood for a moment gazing into the deep orange embers in the living room hearth, silently swearing to my family another vow:
Those days shall be renewed. You shall live in joy as great as that which you once knew, and greater still.
I wondered, strangely, if the rail of the staircase next to the front door, that which led to the bedrooms, was still loose. Most likely it still was. I had meant to fix it, but then I had been exiled, and my life had spiraled out of control.
Never again, my dearest ones.
I perched myself on the edge of the kitchen table, closing my eyes and breathing deep the smell of fresh-baked bread.
Eru, it was good to be home.
I felt Nerdanel sit down beside me. "Keep your eyes closed," she said, and popped an apple pastry into my mouth. It was still warm from the oven, and spiced with sugar and cinnamon. The filling had the sweet-sour flavor that only ripe apples can achieve. It tasted like summer.
"I made them as a treat for the boys for solstice, but they were too hot to eat earlier. I know how you like them."
I could hear her affectionate smile in her voice. I returned it as I swallowed and licked the last of the filling from my lips. "Your cooking is as fine as ever, my dear."
She laughed gently. "Good. I could teach you a thing or two."
There was a moment of contented silence, our hands twined, and then my gaze was drawn to the softly burning lamp which sat behind us on the table. It was wrought of a dark grey metal, out of which various elegant curves and spirals had been cut, so that when the flame passed through, it cast dancing patterns over the wood. It seemed quite old.
"Is that one of mine?" I asked. "Why do you not use a lampstone?"
"Firelight is so much more pleasing than the cold, blue glow of your stones, if more impractical. But yes, the lamp is of your making. It was one of your last creations, before the Silmarilli and the Noldorin succession obsessed you. Ambarto lit it this morning, saying that from now on, it would burn on the anniversary of your return to us. He did not know you would be arriving tonight, of course, and yet he was so certain of it... I confess I did not have quite as much faith."
"A child's innocence can teach us many things, faith being one."
Nerdanel smiled warmly, looking towards the stairs in the front hall.
"Speaking of children, my love, we appear to have woken two of them."
I followed her gaze and beheld two young men clad in white nightclothes, both rubbing sleep from their eyes, their russet curls tousled. Each was the very image of the other, and yet even know, I had no difficulty in telling them apart - Pityafinwë Ambarussa was on the right, and Telufinwë Ambarto was on the left. They had both been returned to life at a young age; neither could be much past his majority.
"Atto?" said Ambarto drowsily, as though believing me to be a figment of his dreams.
My chest tightened, and in my mind I saw them both dead in the white streets of Sirion, lying very close together as they would in sleep.
"Hello, my dear ones," I said softly, kneeling down.
An incredulous silence fell, and for a moment, I was horribly certain that both twins would flee from me in terror.
Nerdanel must have sensed the sick roiling of my gut, for she laid a hand on my shoulder and said, "Your father returned from Mandos earlier this evening. Come, say hello. Give him a proper welcome."
The twins glanced at me, then at each other, as if silently agreeing that I was real. Then, with a cry of "Atto!" they both ran into the kitchen and flung themselves into my arms. The force with which they struck me knocked me onto my back, but it did not deter me from gathering them into my arms and kissing every inch of their faces.
"I missed you," Ambarto murmured, nuzzling his head into my shoulder.
"As did I," said Ambarussa from my other side.
"And I you, my darlings," I managed past the lump in my throat, ruffling their hair fondly. "You have been ever in my thoughts. This is exactly how I hoped to find you. You have been happy, I trust?"
"We've been into all sorts of mischief!" said Ambarussa proudly.
"A few days ago we locked that horrible old tutor of Maitimo's in his study!" added his twin, earning a glare from Nerdanel that was only half angry.
"But now that you're back with us, we shall have even more fun!"
"Of course we shall," I laughed. "I trust you have discovered all sorts of new hiding places since last I saw you."
The twins' eyes lit up at once.
"Can we play capture the flag?" asked Ambarto eagerly.
"Not tonight, love. 'Tis much too late, and too dark, but I promise you a game very soon."
The two nestled closer to me. Each kissed my cheek in turn, whispering, "I love you, Atto."
My heart soared as I replied, "I love you, my little ones."
They seemed inclined to fall asleep in my arms, and no doubt they would have, had not our joyous laughter roused the rest of my sons, and brought them all to stand in the kitchen doorway.
They were exactly as they had been in my happiest memories. Curufinwë was the very image of myself in the first years after my majority, down to the sweep of his ebony bangs and the light burning in his keen silver eyes. Carnistir was as dark and intent as ever, at first surly at being woken so late, but gradually his face relaxed into a wider grin than I had yet seen there. Tyelkormo was still more a Vanya than a Noldo in appearance, his eyes as blue as clear water and his skin tanned nut-brown by the sun.
Maitimo and Macalaurë stood apart from the other three, the younger leaning lightly upon the elder. Their eyes alone belied the suffering they had endured, for these looked distinctly old, and the joy in them was tempered with ancient, unhealable hurts. The shadow of his torment in Angband was yet in Maitimo's face, if I looked carefully enough. Macalaurë especially was rather paler and thinner than he ought to have been, and I knew why; I had been shown it in the Void: after Maitimo's death, he had wandered the seashores for Eru only knew how long, lost in his own grief and regret, suffering in endless pain as the world altered around him. What had brought him home at last, I did not know, but I was so glad that it had.
One by one, they came to my side and knelt down, the great shaggy figure of Huan trotting behind them like an escort. None of them spoke. Nothing could be said. Nothing was sufficient.
At last, Maitimo took my hands in his - both of his - and said in a soft, broken voice, "We tried, Atar. We tried so very hard."
He bowed his head, tears trailing down his cheeks. I felt my heart crack and bleed for him.
I opened my arms, and he came obediently to me, stretching out on his side so that his head rested on my chest. I tucked my arms about him and stroked his rich copper curls, shushing him gently as his tears began to soak into my robes.
"I know you did, dearest one," I said thickly. "I know you did. It was I who failed you, not the inverse. It was I who ran foolishly to my death and left you with an impossible quest, rather than blessing you for what you had done and releasing you from your task. I knew, too, that you would never succeed. I knew it, and yet I bound you to my war nonetheless. Dear Lord, what was I thinking? There is absolutely no forgiveness for that."
Even in the Void, I do not think I ever loathed myself more than I did in that moment. No, there was no forgiveness for binding my children, whom I had loved beyond all else, to a fruitless quest which claimed six of their lives and left the seventh to a fate worse than death.
Eru, it drove my eldest to suicide.
"We have all forgiven you," said Maitimo, "have we not?"
His brothers nodded silently, gravely, and this was too much. I would have felt better had he spat venomous words of hatred at me. At least then I would have gotten what I deserved, and not been left with a terrible feeling that my sons' love was the last thing I warranted.
I drew Maitimo close, tears choking my own voice as I said, "I am so sorry, my dear, precious children. So desperately sorry. It is not enough, but I can say nothing else."
I broke off, my shoulders shaking. Maitimo shifted himself so that his arms were wrapped protectively around me, so that I became the child and he the father. Macalaurë was at my side as well, his presence calm and gentle, his hand rubbing circles on my shoulder. Huan came and licked my hands, which were limp and useless in my lap.
"That is all over and done with now," said Macalaurë in his practical, soothing way. "You are home. We are home. We are together. Nothing else matters."
"We feared it would come to this," said Tyelkormo, shaking his head. "We tried to reach you while we were in Mandos, and again when we returned home, but we were never able to break through. Had we managed it, we might have reassured you that we bore you no hatred, and prevented this..."
"You should hate me," I gasped between sobs. "If you had any sense, you would hate me for what I did to you!"
"Shh..." Maitimo murmured. "We never hated you. We realized very quickly that our father, our true father, died with Haru Finwë. The man who made the Oath and bound us to it... That was not you. That was a demon of some sort, born of grief and rage. We separated the two of you, turned our hatred to the thing that Morgoth made you, and fought on for the Fëanáro we remembered, the one who had shown us nothing but love since the day we were born. We all loathed the quest, of course, but we would have endured it and more if it had meant laying your soul to rest."
This did not soothe me; in fact, it made me weep harder.
"That only tells me how desperate and miserable you were in the end, when you both surrendered your Silmarilli! Eru, Nelyo, you cast yourself into a burning chasm!"
He had no argument to counter this. Maitimo was nearly as fine an orator as myself, and had he had any sort of refutation to offer, he never would have allowed silence to fall.
"I... The Oath turned me into something that frightened me," he said at last, very softly. "In my madness, I thought that the fire would somehow cleanse me of my sins... Atar, please, let us not speak of this now. It will only upset you."
We would have to speak of it eventually, I knew. If we did not, it would lay between us forever, just as the Helcaraxë lay between my half-brother and me.
But perhaps he was right. Tonight was not the night.
Emotionally drained, overwhelmed, and exhausted by all I had experienced since my departure from Mandos, I laid my head down and wept quietly into Maitimo's shoulder.
Huan nudged my side, whining anxiously. The twins rested their heads on my shoulders and Curufinwë propped himself against my side; Carnistir sat stoically with my hands in his; Macalaurë kept his fingers twined in my hair, softly humming the beginnings of a song; Maitimo held me tightly as my own father would. All conveyed to me the forgiveness and love that could not be put into words, and I felt the icy shard of pain in my heart begin to melt.
"Do not weep, Atar," said Curufinwë. There was a gentle command in his voice, which was so very like mine that I could not help but smile.
Brushing at my cheeks, I composed myself with a tremendous effort.
"You are right, dear one. This is no time for tears. Come, give me your hands, all of you."
They did so, laying their hands atop mine, some hard and calloused, some soft and smooth. Even Huan put forth one of his paws. I looked into all of their faces, saw the hope that even the suffering of their pasts could not extinguish. It lifted my spirits more than anything they could have said. Yes, the halcyon days of their youth would yet be renewed. To my last breath at the world's ending, I would ensure that they lived in happiness greater than any they had known before.
"I promise you," I said, "that I will never leave you again, and as long as I am here, you shall live in nothing but joy. I lost sight of it once, but I see now that you are my true treasures, more precious than any work of my hands. I shall never forget it. If there is anything I may do to prove my love for you, and to right in some small way the wrongs I dealt you, I beg you, ask. Know that I love you all so much, more than life itself."
They each returned the sentiment, their voices overlapping and stilling the black wave of anguish that had risen within me. I could not possibly have felt more blessed than I did then, with my sons resting comfortingly against me. I could feel each of their steady pulses, especially Maitimo's, which beat beneath my cheek.
I cast a glance at Nerdanel, whose green eyes were suspiciously liquid as well, though a warm smile brightened every inch of her face. She gave me an approving nod and a tilt of her head which said plainly, I told you so.
"All right, little ones," she said gently. "It is late, your father is tired, and so are you, I suspect. You have many more beautiful days ahead of you in which to reacquaint yourselves. For now, all of you need your rest."
There was a collective noise of protest from my seven sons, and I felt the twins tighten their arms around me. I was indeed exhausted, but I would gladly have stayed up for what remained of the night talking with them all, and hearing of the adventures they had had since their rebirths.
"Istyë, please, let them stay with me, if they wish."
"I wish!" announced Ambarussa, to indulgent chuckles from his elder brothers.
Nerdanel did not need much convincing. She attempted to look stern for a moment, but the light sparkling in her eyes betrayed her.
"Very well, then," she said. "Go on upstairs, all of you, and bring down your pillows and blankets. Tonight, we shall sleep side by side."
The boys were most efficient, forming a very comfortable nest of quilts on our living room floor, settling themselves so that all of them were close to me. It was not long before each one sank into slumber. Their breathing slowed and lengthened, the moonlight touching their faces and smoothing the hard, aristocratic lines. Nerdanel's head lay on my shoulder with a gentle pressure, one arm draped lazily across my chest. Maitimo lay on my other side, facing me, conveying protective vigilance even with his eyes closed. The peace in the room was absolute.
"Don't you dare, Atar," he said into the quiet.
"Don't I dare what, Nelyo?" I asked drowsily, not opening my eyes.
"Don't you dare punish yourself any more. I cannot stand to see you in pain."
I could not promise him that. I could not promise him that I believed he and his brothers had never borne me anything but love, for deep within me, I suspected their forgiveness was not as absolute as they would say. I could not even promise him that I had always loved him absolutely, for there had been moments on the march to Beleriand when I feared that any one of my sons might slit my throat in my sleep. What I could promise him was that I loved him absolutely now, and that I was quite certain that that fact would never again be altered.
"I shall do my utmost to be happy, dearest one," I said.
Sleep encroached quickly upon me after that, stilling my turbulent emotions, slowing my heartbeat. My last conscious sight was of the lamp on the kitchen table, burning low but steadily with the last beautiful flares of dying embers. It was quite appropriate, I thought. I had died in a similar way, burning to ashes upon Dor Daedeloth, and I had risen again, just as the sun rose each morning, just as the lamp would be re-lit next year on Midsummer's Eve.
It would take time for my flame to regain its full strength, perhaps. It would burn at the heart of a lamp soot-blackened and damaged by time, irrevocably in some places, and on occasion it would flicker, but it would be all the more beautiful for its imperfections, and all the more inspiring for its struggle.
Author's Notes
Elves don't age like humans, but for reference, the twins are about 17 or so, Curufin and Caranthir are around 21-22, Celegorm is in his mid-twenties, and Maglor and Maedhros are in their late twenties.
