Fadesintothewest : Hello again! What can I say haha that whole 1st Age is a tragedy.

I realized there were a lot of typos in Chapter 9, well even more than usual. Sorry about that.

And I thought there was not enough Finarfin in this fic haha (to be honest, he feels intimidating)

Chapter 10 - Changes

1495 Y.T. - Araman

From the start, he had known it would be a perilous journey yet, like his father, he had deemed his duty was to follow his kin and his people and there barely was any regret he could afford to linger on. On their way, things had changed though. Dramatically changed : there had been the blood in the harbor, the stolen ships and the cold, the terrible cold of the north. And it had been but the beginning of the nightmare, for the Curse had been pronounced against them and Fëanáro had set afire their only mean of transportation to Beleriand.

They were lost on the ice, miserable and facing the unknown. Findaráto could not have blamed his father for turning back to Tirion, for wanting to seek the Valar's pardon - it was not desertion, it simply was the right thing do, what they all ought to do. But he would not follow lord Arafinwë, not this time. He had chosen exile, although his heart belonged to Valinor.

This last parting was the worst, by far. Lord Arafinwë had said farewell to the three youngest of his children and they stood in line, weeping silently. At length he had turned to his eldest son, whose face was pale, almost as white as the snow covering the grounds around them.

"Father..." had uttered Findaráto and truth be told, he felt rather pitiful in that moment whereas he should have been proud and resolved.

"Ingoldo, my beloved son, what burden do I put on your shoulders... although you shall handle it well, I know," said lord Arafinwë, putting a kiss on his son's brow.

"Hereafter you shall be the head of our house, Ingoldo."

"No, Father, you—"

"You will, in Beleriand. And I foresee you shall bring great honor to my name."

"Should I not go back with you?" Findaráto whispered to his father's ear and to lord Arafinwë only would he dare confess this ultimate doubt of his.

"You chose your way already, Ingoldo, so did your brothers and your sister."

"I am sorry, Father."

"No, I am sorry I shall not be there anymore, dearest son," said lord Arafinwë and he took Findaráto's hands in his, gazing at him intently. "Take my ring, Ingoldo, wear it proudly and do think a little about your father whenever you look at it."

It was in his palm, shimmering faintly. The two serpents intertwined, their eyes made of green jewels, the crown of golden flowers, these were all too familiar to Findaráto, yet it had never crossed his mind it would become his one day. His fingers were slightly trembling when he put it on and it felt like cold and hard against his skin.

"Farewell, Father."

"Farewell, Ingoldo."

541 F.A. Tirion

"A lot more has happened than I could foretell when I gave you my ring, yet I am glad that it was not lost and has become a heirloom of one of the Atani's greatest house," said lord Arafinwë once Findaráto had told him of Beren and Lúthien, of the Quest for the Silmaril and of his own death.

Lord Arafinwë had wept, of course, how could the woes of his son leave him unmoved? Yet he was not sad, no he really was not. Instead he felt amazed, extraordinarily amazed, and he did not quite understand why.

"A heirloom? I'm afraid I cannot be so optimistic, Father. It could, if Beren and Lúthien have wedded and if they did, then one of the Silmaril was taken off the Dark Lord's crown..." and as he said those words Findaráto was shaking his head, in disbelief. "I have always presumed their love was meant to fulfill some higher purpose... yet a Silmaril..."

He thought a Silmaril would bring only misfortune to Beren and Lúthien, for the sons of Fëanáro would pursue them relentlessly, pressed by their terrible Oath to recover their father's precious creations.

"A child of them would be worth more than that Silmaril they were asked to retrieve from Melkor," said lord Arafinwë, almost absentmindedly.

"What is it that dwells on your mind, Father?" inquired Findaráto, frowning.

"A vague feeling, nothing more..."

"They probably died a cruel death, crueler than mine I daresay."

Lord Arafinwë's piercing gaze set on his son and soon he had forgotten all about Beren, Lúthien and the Silmaril. "It hurts to say I do not know what it has been like," he said. "I do not know, I can only imagine... Ever since I heard those terrible words, in the North, I have tried to imagine what you and your siblings could have gone through... yet I still do not know."

"Artanis has fared well," Findaráto replied. He loved to say that, it had almost become a prayer - at least one of them would have survived the wars.

"Indeed, our dear Artanis would have always known what to do," agreed lord Arafinwë, then he added, cautiously, "Ingoldo, your mother... She may be terrified of these trials you had to face in Beleriand, however tell her about it. Tell her everything, as you have done with me."

"Father, she is still grieving for Angaráto and Aikanáro, thus shall I not wait before revealing how a werewolf ripped open my chest and drained all blood out of me?" Dark humour was not something Findaráto was fond of, but he could not figure how to tell lightly the story of his death, especially to his own mother, and there was not much he would not have done to spare lady Eärwen anymore tales of sufferings.

"It will be a relief for her to hear it from you," insisted lord Arafinwë. "She will want to understand what happened."

"Alright... She will know everything there is to know," said Findaráto. "After the festival."

"Have you decided to come, then?"

"I did, yes. I shall like to take part in some rejoicings."

"Shall you?" said lord Arafinwë, smiling softly.

"It seems I am not as afraid of having fun as I used to be, barely a few weeks ago."

"You deserve to be happy, Ingoldo. You truly do." Lord Arafinwë grabbed his son's arm, leading him along the white walls of Tirion.

Father and son were seen walking beneath the trees, all day long, for their morning stroll lasted longer than usual and their laughters echoed everywhere in the streets of the city.

Valimar

Findaráto was following Amárië closely and he was glad she was there to lead him through the crowd, for he was too busy marveling at what surrounded him to pay any attention to where his feet strode and, in fact, he felt a bit dizzy. He had often dreamed of Valimar while he had been in Beleriand and the longing had ever been keener on holidays - for a Noldo born under the light of the Trees, what could be more beautiful than the City of the Bells, with its golden roofs and silver floors? And if his halls in Nargothrond had been handsomely crafted and if among his people there had been many gifted menestrels, he had known that, east of the Great Sea, he would never find the likes of the merry and careless atmosphere of festival days in Valimar.

He felt he had travelled through time and that he was back in the glorious days that preceded the darkening of Valinor, although some things were forever lost - the light of Laurelin and Telperion, the Silmarils, part of his innocence. His siblings too were no more by his side and even thinking about Angaráto's annoying way of teasing him made him nostalgic. However if his Noldorin cousins were also not there, his Telerin cousins had all come, along with his uncles, their wives and even his grandparents, king Olwë and his Queen. It was almost an overwhelming party, or at least it would have been, had not Findaráto finally started to sort things out in his heart and in his mind.

He was happy to be part of a clan again and he had understood all of them meant well, even though some of their questions might have been too persistent at times - and Hórindo could be obnoxious, still. Yet Findaráto had found there were many things he could tell them easily, for all that concerned the Sindar enthralled them and they soon took great pride in the power and the beauties of Doriath, as if it had been their own. They also loved the fact that Elwë Singollo had wedded Melian the Maia, for none would have believed Elwë had been lost forever, and Findaráto had to repeat their tale quite often, as he had heard it himself from the bards in Menegroth.

It could be straining, but Findaráto was slowly getting back to his former self, who knew not when to stop once stories were told. On that day though he only saw the bright sides of having his family close and once he had reached the Great Place, he danced and he sang, for the first time since his reembodiement. Findaráto was as agile and as graceful as before and he felt he had regained control over his body, at last - he feared no more to unfurl his strength, to display his skills and moreover he did not feel guilty for laughing out loud so often.

It was not after several hours of celebrations that he had the need for a break, a small pause away from the main crowd, and so he sought Amárië, who had been playing games with some her Vanyarin kin, for he wished to have her close to him. They chose to head towards one of the smaller fountains of the city, one located in a courtyard where ivy grew on high stone walls. There few Elves wandered, but the melodies sung by choirs of Eldar and Maiar could echoed on the silvery pavement and garlands had been suspended in the trees, where mynas whistled gaily.

"The city and the festival are ever the same, yet it feels different to me..." said Findaráto, dazzled.

He was dressed in Telerin fashion in tones of blue and grey and although his outfit was a simple one, these colors suited him well and his eyes shone bright.

"You are coming back from a long journey, it should not be a surprise your views on many things have changed," said Amárië who was at ease among the singing and dancing Eldar - she was smiling, giggling and humming ever since they had entered the city and she had even agreed to twirl with Hórindo.

"I suppose not... It is far from being unpleasant though," he said as his fingers trailed her long braids. "I get to discover many delights once more, which is quite unexpected considering I never imagined I would leave the halls of Mandos..." For once he was not afraid to mention the Halls, for it seemed so far away, under the warm sunshine.

"You changed, Ingoldo," told him Amárië, peering at him shyly. "You changed, yet when I look at you, I still see the Findaráto I met in Alqualondë."

"The one whose endless speeches scared everyone away? Ah, I really did hope everything that has happened since then would have erased that unfortunate memory of me off your mind," he chuckled and he sat beside the fountain. "You changed too, Amárië. You did, in a marvelous way," he then added, more seriously, kissing the back of her hand.

"You are kind to think so, but how could I? What lands did I explore that you did not?" She was not trying to be modest, for she truly did believe her years in Valinor could not have brought her as much as years in exile would have had, somehow.

"Have you not stayed in the Gardens of Lórien?" Findaráto asked softly, brushing away a curl behind her ear. The Gardens were not exactly unknown lands to him, for he had visited them during the years of the Trees, but he presumed that Amárië's long stay there would have taught her much and he had meant to question her about it for a while.

"I did," admitted Amárië in a mutter, and all her previous merriness seemed to have vanished.

"You need not be ashamed, Amárië," Findaráto assured her, trying to meet her gaze.

"I am not," she replied quickly and then she pretended to be very absorbed by the statues adorning the fountain.

Their hands were still linked and Findaráto was careful not to let her go too far from him. "I am sorry, Amárië," he said in a low voice.

"Why would you be?"

"Well... it was because of me, was it not?" Her face darkened and Findaráto regretted having brought up so suddenly such a delicate topic, although it had been bothering him for a moment already - he had expected her to tell him well before he would get the opportunity to ask her about it.

"I was weak... and vain," said Amárië grudgingly. "Your parents had lost four children, your aunt, her whole family... Yet I was the one who could no more walk, no more talk..."

"You were sad... sad and disappointed", said Findaráto, as he rose and cupped her face with one hand. "And I daresay you felt a little betrayed, did you not?"

It was true, very true indeed. She had felt betrayed, highly betrayed, but she would not voice it.

"Ingoldo, it is a feast day, should we not sing and dance some more?" Amárië suggested instead, her eyes half-closed - she relished the feel of his fingers against her skin.

"Alright..." agreed Findaráto. "But you will tell me, won't you?"

"I will," she promised, and she asked, "Astarë spilled it, did she not?" Amárië was again smiling, as she remembered how she had found her sister asleep on the bench, her head resting on Findaráto's lap. They had had plenty of time discuss before she had gotten back to the gardens of her house and she had since then suspected Astarë's tongue had been quite loose during that night.

"She did. Would you have kept it a secret otherwise?"

"I did not mean to conceal it from you if that is what you are wondering about. Rather, I thought it was a useless piece of information for the time being," Amárië explained and her pale blue eyes were full of concerns for him.

"Since when would I overlook anything that concerns you, dear Amárië?" Findaráto whispered. He bent down to kiss her lips - it was but a mere brush, a sweet caress, for he was aware his presence drew many curious looks from the bystanders. "And if I may say, I will never believe that Amárië of the Vanyar could have stayed in the Gardens of Lórien without having obtained all the knowledge she could from the Maiar dwelling there."

"I might have asked a few questions here and there..." Amárië confessed, unable not to grin.

"Oh, I assume you did so, and quite diligently," Findaráto laughed. "And you experienced many things, happy and sad, and you changed. You became this beautiful and noble lady I have the honor of walking with today, in the City of Bells..." He was looking at her fondly, yet his smile was a melancholic one. "I used to believe I would be the one helping you grow, guiding you through life and lore... How pretentious of me!"

"But, Ingoldo..."

"My only regret is that I was not there to witness all these moments that have forged you, Amárië."

"Ingoldo, you were my model all along," said Amárië, leaning her head on his chest.

Her confession had been genuine and spontaneous and it left Findaráto speechless awhile.

"Amárië, it is a feast day, should we not sing and dance some more?" His voice was hoarse all of a sudden and unlike what he had just suggested he stood motionless, his arms around her.

"We should indeed," she said and, after having enjoyed being held by him a little while, she lead him back through narrow passegeways and crowded avenues, till they reached again the Great Place.

Both were silent, wrapped up in their own thoughts, and Findaráto had lost himself the golden glints of Amárië's hair, wondering why he had not yet told this delightful creature how much he loved her. Ever since he had been brought back to life, it had all been about him - his wounds, his memories, his fears - and she had coped bravely with his somber mood. He could not remember her complaining or showing any sign of impatience... yet was it not about time he started taking care of her?

"A—" Findaráto had barely opened his mouth that he was already interrupted.

"Amárië!"

He had to look down to find the source of such a heartfelt cry.

"Astarë!" exclaimed Amárië, catching the little blonde thing that had just leaped on her. "I see you ran away from Mother and Father again..."

"I was looking for you and lord Findaráto!"

"Were you?" Amárië had kissed both her sister's round cheeks and she was now adjusting the flowers that had been entwined in Astarë's silky hair. "Did you miss me so much? You know we will be spending the next few days together."

But Astarë, although happy to be pampered by her elder sister, fought to remain serious and she said, "It was a quest, I had to find you, for Ingorion begged me to do so."

And before they could make any further inquiries about this odd statement, Amárië and Findaráto found themselves facing said Ingorion, who, by the look of it, had struggled much more than Astarë to squeeze himself through the dancers and the singers - he seemed strangely weary.

"Ingorion! Should I gather that Astarë has dragged you here?" she said, beaming at her Vanyarin friend.

"She did, yet I—"

But before he could finish his sentence, Amárië cut him off as she scolded her little sister, "Astarë, you cannot order people around like that, Ingorion could have had commitments of his today."

"I did not—"

"Excuse her, Ingorion, she—"

"As a matter of act, she said the truth, for I was the one who asked her to help me find you," said Ingorion and Amárië finally noticed something was amiss. Her friend was not all dressed like he ought have been, on a festival day, and it seemed the clothes he wore had literally been the ones he had grabbed first - that was rather strange, for the Eldar loved to display their best looks whenever they gathered in Valimar to celebrate and the Vanyar were not the last when it came to elegance.

Also, Ingorion had not addressed her and this 'you' had not been Amárië, but Findaráto whom he had been staring at all along.

"Has something happened, lord Ingorion?" asked Findaráto, slightly tensed.

The Vanya nodded, however he seemed hesitant to talk. He glanced around nervously, as the feast was going on around them in a merry melody, and he finally stepped forward Findaráto.

"My cousin Laurefindil, he came back. Just like you did," Ingorion whispered in his ear.

Ingorion looks similar to Ingoldo, but the idea was that it had to be similar to Ingwë. So Ingorion is actually from the root "Ingor" and it means "summit" (if anyone cares haha).

I see that time Amárië spent in the Gardens of Lorien as her recovering from what we would call depression nowadays, so she wouldn't been too keen to talk about it.

Why mynas of all birds? Because they can sing beautifully (I heard one who could sing the French national anthem actually haha)