14. Regrets of the Past
While the debutante ball was going on in Tirion, things went on as usual in the rest of Aman. On a mountain road deep inside the Pelóri, two brothers were searching for their older brother.
"Túrëo? Túrëo, where are you?" the middle brother Vórimo called, knowing that the firstborn of the brothers should be here. The third brother, Almo, tried to not slip in the snow because of the heavy packing he was carrying.
"Really, ammë Calcanis should actually try and carry these to the cave herself! This is not Tirion where we can ask servants to bring them to the vineyard which we once owned, here we has to fix things on our own…" Almo complained out loudly, not because of the task of carrying the packing with food that he had on his back, but over that he and his two older brothers had been forced to bring home extra food in this kind of weather when it was winter. The reason why they had been sent out on this task? Finding out that their food supply for the winter had already fallen very seriously when it was supposed to last though all the winter months and a bit into the spring when nature offered more food again. And they knew why it was lesser food than it should be.
"Ammë truly needs to stop overfeeding Finyo the food portions that rightfully should have been ours. Yes, he is the youngest of us four, but he is not a baby anymore and should be working for the food he eats…"
Almo took a look on his older brother, already knowing that Vórimo was thinner than he should have been. It was the same with both Túrëo and himself. They were all slender by body shape, but the uneven food distribution between the four brothers over the years since they had been banished from Tirion had not been good for the oldest three.
"Look, there our brother is!"
Indeed Túrëo was standing there at the place where he tended to go when he needed to be alone, but he was not alone. He was talking to someone, who was not another member of the group of banished Elves that was under control of Calcanis' iron fist.
"Qucha!"
Almo immediately became happier at the sight of his secret sweetheart, an young Avarin woman from the Mountain clan that only the two brothers knew about. Qucha smiled warmly at seeing them.
"Hello there. Things well with you?" she asked with a friendly smile as she hugged Almo. Then, at feeling how thin Almo was under his clothing, she let go of him for a better look. She also frowned at seeing Vórimo spotting a black eye that was unlikely to have been caused by one of his present brothers, as neither one of the three was violent or quick to anger in nature.
"Your mother again?" was all she asked, getting three rather hesitant nods in answer as neither one of the three brothers saw her in the eyes. Queha sighed in worry; she had long suspected that her Noldorin admirer and his two older brothers were seriously neglected, perhaps even openly abused from the injuries they could wear at times, by their mother in favour for their youngest brother.
"I have said it before, and I will say it again; you can't let this go on. The offer of coming and live in the Mountain clan still stands…for the same of your own lives, please leave your mother and youngest brother to deal with things themselves. They are not worth any of this, you can not let them control your lives like this."
Túrëo tried to keep himself under control, but he failed to hide the terror in his voice as he whispered:
"We can't…if…if we leave her and our brother…atar… our atar will be angry…"
Even if he had been dead for 78 years thanks to his crime of trying to kill the House of Fëanor by poisoning them, it was clear that Nárion still had a massive presence in his three oldest sons' mind. They still feared their father, and many times had the feeling that he would show up behind them with fury in his cold eyes and start screaming at them of what shame they were for his family and how useless they were as his sons.
"Túrëo…"
Qucha placed a hand carefully on his arm, holding to help her eventual law-brother to calm down before the memories got full power over him. It seemed to help a little, for he relaxed slightly at the touch.
"I am sorry, Qucha…we have all tried to leave over the years, but…I know, it is such a weak excuse when he is not even here anymore…" whispered Almo as he hugged her, trying desperately not to start crying. But she understood. They were no cowards, they were simply so terrified of their father that they still acted as if he had been alive. Sometimes, no matter how long time that passed, that kind of fear never passed unless something really big changed their lives. Her own parents were two Avarin elves who once had been enslaved in Angband, so she could see the signs.
"I am sorry that I can not help much, either. But even if is just a little, I want to help you three until you find the courage to finally leave your mother and spoiled brat to a youngest brother."
To show her promise, she kissed Almo on the lips instead of the cheek as they normally did. The brothers allowed the youngest some few moments of bliss over the kiss, before Túrëo had to pull him along as he said:
"I am sorry, but we have to leave now before she starts building up stream to give us a telling-off for being late. Come on, lover boy."
Vórimo waved good-bye to her, before Qucha vanished along a small road like a swift-footed mountain goat.
"You do right in keeping your relationship with her a secret from our ammë, Almo. She would be insane with anger at the mere thought of an Avarin law-daughter." said Túrëo in an apologetic tone to his second youngest brother, as if he wanted to apologize for the way their mother behaved.
"And yet she insists on trying to marry off our spoiled brat to little brother to princess Cúwen of princess Nelyafinwë's line, who has an Avarin father! Sure, lord Rog might be a hero from the First Age and it did not matter if he was an Avarin Elf back in the Years of the Trees, but that still does not excuse the double-standard our ammë is doing! Why is she so blind to how limited we are to possible marriages nowadays, thanks to our idiotic father's selfish attempt to kill the Noldorin crown prince and his family by poison, all because of his old resentment for not becoming the husband of princess Nelyafinwë back in the Years of the Trees?! Personally, I find it very difficult to blame the princess for wanting another husband, especially when we all three knows too well how our father was in personality…." Almo snorted in displeasure, feeling angry at their mother.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
At the same time, far away in the south, the Sand clan was at their winter camp. Similarly to Tirion, there was a feast going on. But it was not a coming-of-age event, oh no, it was the celebration of Sauron's defeat on this date back in the Third Age year 3019.
"In honor of those who helped to defeat the Fallen Maia once for all; Cheers!" called Osiris as he raised a wine-filled goblet.
"CHEERS!"
After all, music was starting to be played as many couple danced. There was laughter and talk in the air, a truly warm happiness felt among those who once had suffered by Sauron's cruelty back in Angband during the First Age. But there was one among them who was not feeling the mood for this. She carefully sneaked away between the tents when no one saw her, to be alone for a while, away from the fest. Out of a habit that had been forced into her over the years, she went loose on a pile of dirty laundry that she would wash clean. As she pushed away a loose hair curl from her face, the reddish-blonde She-elf almost screamed in anger:
"How could I have been so damn STUPID ten years ago!?"
Similar to Saira and the others who was the focus in Tirion, this was a young She-elf of high noble birth who could have been among them right now on the debutante ball. But she was not, and the reason why? A careless act made without really thinking ahead and being totally blinded by jealousy and greed, had ended up destroying her life. Long gone was the days filled with her parents' almost pleading suggestions to slow down in her actions before she messed up for herself, the boring studies in how to be a proper wife and host when you had been wed, the boldness of "adding" a couple of things that would reveal more skin in everyday clothing under the moral guardian's eyes, the buying of the latest fashion and asking the dressmaker to send the bill to her father so he would pay for it, the weekly tea parties with her friends, and the dreams of possibly marrying into royalty.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!"
Once she had been stranded here in the Sand clan after the punishment of being banished for life from Valmar and the public humiliation by the Wood clan, Vanë had been forced to grow up faster than she ever had done in her early life. Not only was her days filled with work and social ostracism, she had gotten a mental bucket of cold water thrown on her in terms of behaviour. In Valmar, she had never really been thinking of how her superiority, lack of regards against others and actions against people for being of a lesser social background could lead to. Now, she had to do the same work as the servants in her old home once had done if she wanted her daily food, and found herself hopelessly overpowered in not knowing anything about how to do housework at all.
"No wonder that fewer and fewer Noldorin and Telerin nobles want to marry a Vanyarin high-born girl those days, when they see far more interesting ladies to marry among the Avari Clans and the Sindar…" …"
Vanë had also opened her eyes to how the Vanyarin Elves were truly seen as by others; far too excessively pious, overbearing, and unpleasantly too eager to quickly point out to the Avarin Elves that they were "not pious enough" and too uncivilized to even be seen as civilized by the most self-righteous Vanyarin Elves. In response to that narrow-minded view, the Avarin Elves freely welcomed the Noldor, Teleri and Sindar into the six Clans by marriage while any Vanyarin Elves in the same situation found themselves much more distrusted.
"Oh, if I only could beat my past self up like princess Maeglin did, I would gladly join her!"
Vanë gasped for breath as she finally was done in beating the dirt out of the laundry. It was hard work, and nowadays she was rather ashamed of how weak she had been in her body during her first 90 years of life because of how pampered she had been. She pushed away the hair curl from her face again with a tired sigh; she was forbidden to grow her hair past the shoulders, and the brand on the right side of her face told anyone in the Avarin clans that she was a sexual assaulter. The true punishment for her was that she was seen as an undesirable bride by Avarin standards thanks to her actions against Rûsa nearly ten years ago, and would be unable to marry anyone unless he wore the brand on his face for the same or a similar crime. In short: ether marrying the only kind of Avarin Elf that would be allowed to take her as his bride, or having to face an eternity of loneliness while watching others fall in love and marry. And given how rare it was for any Avari Elf to actually commit a crime because of how they were intimidated from doing such things because of horror stories about how punishments were done in Angband, it looked like her current marriage chances was equal to zero.
"No wonder why my parents disowned me after I had been banished...how can they even be able to face one another in shame over having a such selfish daughter like me, when I acted like a true fool and did something such horrible like that towards someone...a prince of the Noldor, no less! Why did I not see the dangers in trying to force him into marriage...but I was the foolish one in not wanting to wait until that he had came of age..."
Vanë tried her best to not start crying in anger on herself. She had made this bed herself ten years ago and now she had to lay in it.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Meanwhile, Rûsa and Maeglin were enjoying a quick moment of privacy inside the royal palace of Tirion. Nothing special, really, outside a few kisses and hugs as a couple.
"I can't stop enjoying to see how you react at being kissed like that," Maeglin laughed softly as he blushed slightly at feeling her breathing in his neck. Rûsa drew a sharp breath and shut his eyes for a moment when she did it again. Because of his past life in Angband, he was actually somewhat afraid to show a behaviour that could misread as sexual implications towards others, especially towards She-elves. Maeglin had helped him over the past ten years since they had agreed to a secret courtship until that he came to age, but they had to take it slowly with one step by step. After all, it would not go to cause anything that might discourage the other one from having a real relationship in the future.
"Just you wait, and you will soon be given the same taste...ai!"
Rûsa tried his best to not react too much on it, as he did not want to risk drawing attention to them by being too loud.
"Brother! Older brother, where are you?"
Their private fun was quickly cut short at the sound of his younger siblings, calling for him.
"Sorry, looks like I have to keep a eye on them before they end up in some sort of trouble and the servants will be angry."
"And we will have our whole lives ahead of us if we wed. There is no need to have offspring directly after the marriage when we are immortal, even if we Eldar normally have children when we are young."
"Try telling that to my ammë, firstborn uncle and Celebrimbor," Rûsa chuckled in memory of how things really was in his maternal family when it came to the second generation's ages at having children. He did not mind the possibility of being a father to his own set of Elflings in the future, but he wanted to enjoy a couple of years in marriage bliss with only his wife before that. Children were wonderful, but sometimes it could be nice to have a chosen time period between the wedding and the birth of the fist child.
"Hurry before the kids get away," Maeglin laughed and gently pushed him towards the door. Rûsa gave her an honest smile of pure joy before leaving the room to find the troublemakers.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Author's note: I imagine the Avari Mountain clan to be like the Inca people in pre-Columbian America. The name Qucha comes from Mama Qucha ("sea mother") the sea and fish goddess, protectress of sailors and fishermen in Inca mythology.