The outstanding bit happens, after the second horizontal line onwards.


Chapter Fifty-One

She was floating. Or rather she would be if she was of any substance, including gas. But she was not.

She was surrounded not by darkness at all, but light.

How strange. When others try to imagine what it would be like to die, they always imagine darkness. Not this. But there she was, bathed in white and golden light, weightlessly flying to… A source of bright light?

It was light and darkness both. That was what she remembered. She didn't know how to describe it for others who have not died, she could not even process it in her own mind, but there it was.

There. Next thing she knew she stood before the Gates of Mandos.

It was a shining white metal- something bright, and pure. Not even mithril was like this. But she could tell that she stood before the Gates of Mandos. High and well-wrought, with the mark of the Doomsman and Judge of the Valar formed upon it. She could not remember the Gates swinging open. The next thing she knew, she was walking (was it possible to walk without a physical form- it just felt so natural to her) on grass that was green and a sky full of light- nothing like she remembered.

She did not remember entering anything. But there she was suddenly, encased in the darkness of a room, built of shiny black stone or tile. Everything around her was dark.

She felt no fear. No discomfort. The same pang of pain resounded through her at the memory of her daughter, husband and son, the ones she was leaving behind. But her fate was now in the hands of Powers higher than hers.

She smelt roses.

Roses. Suddenly she smelt all the scents she had smelt in her life, even those that she had forgotten. The smell of the air she inhaled when she took her first breath of life, mixed with the sharp, slightly salty tang of body fluids. The scent of the soaps and oils and the clean, fresh water in her first bath, the warm scent of lavender and sweet, sugary powder in her baby blanket. The soft scent of the carpets she first crawled upon. The fresh grass that she learnt to walk upon for the first time, in the green hill of Túna. The scent of the fresh salt-tinged sea, and the clear, cool sea air.

Estela didn't know when the reminiscing turned to actual memories playing right before her eyes. When did the thoughts become visions? But suddenly, she saw it all.

Until the very last- the end.

The scent of battle- of blood and gore. The strong sour yet sweet tang of Miruvor and the sickly-sweet smell of medicine, the earthy fragrant honey scent of healing herbs. The scent of Ereinion's robes and hair. The dustiness, and scent of the fabrics she wove. The hot acidic, sharp, tingling, burning smell of Telpe's forge. The fragrance of the flowers on her wedding day. The smell of the blood, black as pitch that filled the room when her son was born- the same smell that lingered on him- bitter and salty, and no matter how many times she bathed him…

And the scent of the elanor blossoms. And roses once more- that she smelt on her daughter- elanor, roses and Vardarianna.

All the scents she had known in her life. And all the memories, hopes and dreams, and experiences. They were there- with her. The ones she had lost, and the ones she had left behind.

They were there. But they were not. And she was truly alone, just- as she now realised with a shock- she had always feared.

Alone.

No, she was not alone.

"Come to me, child."

That voice! It was warm yet cold. It was strong, yet gentle. It was old and powerful- ancient as a matter of fact, yet eternal.

It was not Sauron's voice- the voice of the Darkness.

"Child."

Again, the voice called to her, beckoning her. Without knowing it, without even thinking about it, she felt herself moving.

She did not know if she floated or walked. It could have been the former, as she no longer had physical form- something that should have alarmed her, but didn't- but she went.

It should have been cold, deep and dark as it was. But she did not feel it. She neither felt hot nor cold. She did not feel fear, as she should.

And she passed through halls that grew over time, with every Age.

And she saw them- it was dark and yet it was light, inside there. She did not know how she would describe it to others.

But a particular illumination came from the sides.

Tapestries adorned the walls, or they seemed to be tapestries, but they were made out of… not ordinary thread that was certain.

It was only then she realised that the 'room' she was in, was in actual fact, a very- very- long hall- the longest hall in all of history, and it was no surprise- after all, it grew every day. The ceiling was so high it was shrouded in darkness.

And yet there was light.

Not the Fëanorian lamps that her grandfather invented. Not torches. But glowing balls of light floating around, hovering in mid-air, giving off a dream-like, otherworldly glow.

The tapestries themselves seemed to be made of threads that were a perfect blend of fabric and light. She did not know when one ended and the other began.

But they were there. And they glowed, with so much power, and greatness and light, and suddenly they were no longer mere illustrations anymore- no matter how fantastical nor magnificent.

Suddenly they were there- more than reality, more powerful than anything could describe.

And she saw it all before her eyes.

She saw the darkness of the eternal void before light burst into existence- she saw Eru Ilúvatar, somehow, forming the light, and the image of the Ainur in His mind. She saw the Ainur as glowing beings of bright, unextinguished light, burning so bright, even though they seemed translucent, or even transparent, they were formed out of the light of the All-Father Himself.

She heard them sing- soundless beautiful notes that could not be heard by earthly ears, nor fathomed and processed by earthly minds. Something so powerful and so beautiful, no one could comprehend it.

And something broke.

A dark chord. A distant thing, but dark. Disturbing, breaking the peace, and beauty and light. Something shattered. Something broke. And Eru stopped the music.

There was someone there. A being that was growing dark and more opaque. Something that promised to grow darker still.

And the All-Father gave his bidding, and suddenly, falling like stars the beings of glowing light- the chosen Ainur- fell from the Timeless Halls, the Heavens and plunged, diving down below.

And the All-Father wove a swirl- the music that had been made suddenly took shape and formed and fell into the very centre of the void.

Something grew in there.

Something solid.

Something burst all of a sudden- whole galaxies, the entire cosmos, of swirling light- like the stars Varda would later nourish. Swirling, swimming through the infinite dark, making it brighter and more beautiful than it could ever be.

Eä.

And then rock came- a train of asteroids, forming. And finally her eyes came to rest upon a dark, great expanse. Arda.

Something like burning fire, entered deep inside its crust. But the Arda there, was not the Arda she knew now.

She saw rough, harsh jagged rocks, jutting out towards the sky, a dirty red, not the same shade as blood. She saw it move and thrust sharply and suddenly around, shaking terrifyingly, quivering, violent and frightening. Lava boiled and jumped, leaping even.

There were no seas of water. Instead the oceans, seas, rivers, lakes and falls were of lava- molten rock and fire. Toxic gas, so poisonous, rose like smoke into the sky. It was violent. Deadly. Frightening.

And there was static. Static like lightning, suddenly pulsing through the clouds of toxic gas, on and deep inside the rock. Powerful, electric impulses, crackling and waving, reaching out, grabbing, a brilliant fire of light and life, affecting the rising volcanoes, the rock, the magma, the air- everything. And everywhere they touched, it exploded. Sparks and sprays of lava flew into the air, surges of energy everywhere. Lighting struck. Mountains and volcanoes rose. The rock softened, tenderized, mixed with other substances to become earth. Lighting and energy of all kinds and colours suddenly formed the first mountains.

Or was it the All-Father and the Valar?

The mountains rose higher, the first soil emerged touched by all the energy and what appeared to be lightning.

And suddenly out of the burnt-orange and red gas, a river- no, an ocean. Amidst dry land- a peninsula, or a bay, it seemed, made out of the first soil, amidst the first waters.

And gradually the gas cleared, cleared to form something not toxic, but clean and fresh and healthy. The air turned greyish-blue and soon, the land- not just their mountains emerged and rose higher and it appeared vaguely green- was it emerging with life yet. The greyish gas in the sky suddenly formed into clouds. The sky emerged for the very first time, blue and clear and the water was clear too, and the soil was turning green. The mountains and Arda's crust shifted and moved and grew in height, constantly, the north whitened and ice and snow formed upon it. The clouds moved overhead.

Then she saw the Valar and the Maiar. Yes, she saw them at their work.

And they must have been there for a long time, now. She realised with a shock. They must have been there, doing the work, with the All-Father at their lead, telling them, or guiding them what to do.

She saw Aulë, hammering and chiselling at the mountains, forming them in a certain manner, none of them the same. She saw Ulmo raise the seas high, filling them and urging the life to grow and multiply a plenty, through the depths of the waters. She saw Yavanna spreading her long arms, telling the green, stroking them and loving them, nurturing and nourishing them, making them grow, stronger and healthier than ever. She saw Oromë on Nahar, bringing the animals forth and teaching them, as did his sister Nessa, to run. She saw Nessa then, dancing and Tulkas, laughing at the beasts and their jokes. Vána Ever-Young scattered flowers nearby, making everything bright and fruitful and luminous. She saw Manwë holding out his arms, and he and his Maiar blew, the freshness of the air increased and so did the winds, shifting in their currents, and the skies grew bluer yet. The King of the Valar spread out his arms and the Great Eagles appeared. They brought the wind with them, it seemed, on their mighty wings. And the wind blew. It blew.

And there was Varda. High on a mountain. With her Maiar around a great cauldron filled with a swirling something that exuded so much light she knew earthly eyes could not see them up close, before she and her ladies scooped handfuls of them and gently tossed and scattered them, high in the night sky.

And then the scene changed. She saw Aulë hammering, up close. Flames whooshed and rose high. He was hammering something. Two things.

Made of gold and silver. If Estela could, she would have gasped. Ornately carved and fashioned, this was elegance and magnificence. One gold and the other silver. Varda filled the two globes at the end with light. And both rose, one in the north and one in the south. Illuin the Silver and Ormal the Gold.

But something was wrong. Blood crept into the rivers, ponds, streams and springs, and poison leaked into the plants, making them wither and die, rotting to the ground. Blood from the corpses of dead animals. Some of them were found growling nearby, feral, with sharp and snarling teeth, and hateful, glowing eyes.

Tulkas sprang into action. She saw a dark shadow in the distance and she knew it was Morgoth- or Melkor as he was known then. Tulkas gave chase, Oromë did too, on Nahar. But soon all was well, it seemed.

Tulkas arrived back and Nessa danced, flowers springing from her feet and on her hair, rich and bright. She was gowned in white, with flowers in creamy-pastel shades upon the fabric.

The Valar and Maiar laughed and danced, feasting and singing. And Tulkas lay down, weary, and Nessa did too, not far away and both slept upon the fragrant green and the beds of flowers.

And Melkor delved deep underground, a fortress delved deep into the unwitting earth. It was cavernous, terrifying, dark and so frightening she wanted to scream. There was a pit… larger than anything else. And in it Melkor filled… it with swirling evil, as foul and terrible as everything else was bright and beautiful and pure.

And then Melkor charged. He toppled the Great Lamps.

The Valar freeze and the Maiar started, stopping whatever they were doing.

Tulkas jumped to his feet, and so did Oromë. And Manwë appeared before them and bade them go after Melkor. They gave chase, but Melkor had already fled, trusting in the safety of Utumno, his fortress.

And up above, the stars shone, in the absence of any other source of light.

Underneath, in a bay, with a clear sea, people stirred. One woke and rose to his feet, gazing down at the maiden next to him in awe and wonder, which she returned, entranced, as he helped her to his feet. Both were gold-haired. And more came- two dark-haired ones, and two silver-haired ones.

And so they went forth, searching, coming across their people, the patriarchs and matriarchs, and all of them made homes and prospered happily, together.

And there. They looked. They pointed. Over the distance, a rider came, galloping upon a noble steed. Oromë, the Vala Woodsman came with light like the dawn.

And he spoke to them. And many of them readied to depart, while others balked. And so they set forth. With Oromë. On horses and on foot with canes, with packs upon their backs and saddle-bags. Over the hills and mountains, across the valleys, near the forests.

Some strayed and stayed behind. Others were lost.

And the earth shook and thunderous lightning was seen in the north as many of the fearful elves fled.

And the Valar and Maiar, in a great host of life, rained down upon Utumno, with Melkor desperately charging his foul minions, many of them twisted and warped elves, with his dark powers, before retreating deep into his fortress.

And finally they broke through, and Manwë was shocked as was Melkor. Melkor because he trembled in fear before them, and Manwë because he expected Melkor to be overwhelming in might. But Melkor must have spent the greater part of his powers on his minions and securing his fortress.

Melkor struck- a desperate try. Tulkas wrestled him to the ground and there, they surrounded him. Aulë bound him with Angainor, the chain stronger than mithril, which appeared green and red- and alloy called tilkal, which only Aulë could make.

And there, they dragged him to his prison.

Three led the way.

She recognized one of them all too well, and if she still had a heart it would leap. Finwë.

And there, they came across the shores, of which she would know. And across waters that were strangely and uncharacteristically smooth, like dark blue glass, there were white ships, light and narrow, more graceful than other vessels. And they sailed, the elves aboard, with flocks of swans tied to them, leading the way.

And there. The ever-green grass and diamond-dusted shores of Valinor, where the loveliest flowers grew aplenty.

She saw Yavanna and Varda combining their thoughts and minds until two shoots sprung from the earthen mound, one gold the other silver and filled with light. Nienna watered the ground with her tears and there they sprung, causing the great cities the Eldar raised to bask in its glory and beauty.

And then, there was peace.

But then Estela saw scenes she knew all too well. Some she had not seen herself, but had been told about. Others she had witnessed and it had scarred her for life.

For then she was herself, confronted with these memories of time. When had they become images passing through her very eyes from mere embroidered patterns?

Her great-grandfathers' coronations in Tirion and Alqualondë, respectively. The coronation of High King Ingwë in Valmar. The marriage of her great-parents. And the royal births.

Including her own grandfather.

There, the cowardice of Míriel hit her harder than before. She would have been here, Estela thought, in anger. The foremother who willingly abandoned them all, in spite of knowing what would happen. Or rather, because she knew what would happen.

And look what Estela had to go through. And not only Estela, which she alone could forgive, but every other member of her family, and countless more besides. The price Míriel paid for her sole tranquillity.

She saw her grandfather remastering the Sarati, and inventing the Tengwar, the Fëanorian Lamps, the Palantíri and worse of all- the Silmarils.

And his marriage to her grandmother. Her grandmother, whom she realised in shock, would still be alive. As would her maternal grandparents.

She hadn't thought about Nerdanel in a while. Even her maternal grandparents received more thought.

And there was the birth and growing of their seven strong, and healthy, talented sons.

The marriages made. The births. Her father's marriage. Them beseeching the Valar and the All-Father for a child. The Fëanturi's response. Her birth on Telperion's brightest-shining night.

And the happy years. Until the madness. When Melkor was released.

It was all too much. She wanted nothing more than to look away. But she couldn't.

Her vision stayed glued to the images.

There was nothing she could do but watch the very events that shaped her family's reputation go before her eyes.

Until the very end. Their deaths. Her father in the pit of fire.

Estela moaned. She saw the beginning of the Second Age and the Chaining of Morgoth, once more, but it brought no satisfaction. Her cousin finding Eregion. The marriages between her and the High Elven King. Their children. The making of the Rings of Power. And the One Ring.

The destroying of Eregion. The slaughtering of her cousin's family.

Everything. Even the births and losses.

Estela moaned. She did not remember falling, and she could not imagine it, but she felt herself bent down.

She didn't even know she had stopped.

Soundless screams and moans were heard in the Halls. Sobs resounded. Moaning and sobbing, she had no idea that it was she who was weeping.


"My child," a voice said gently and softly.

She sobbed and looked up. There, upon a black marble throne stood a figure she had known she would someday see. Even hoped for it at many times.

Robed in wine-red and black, his locks black as melted jet with a crown of mithril and shadow covering his eyes and expression, the Lord of Mandos sat, on his throne before her. His skin was pale, but she could only see a small amount of his face.

Estela knelt there, in front of the Doomsman she knew she would confront someday.

She bowed her head.

"You've seen the memories, I see." He mused. She was shocked. Because this was the voice she had heard when she first entered. And it was not what she was expecting from the Vala that pronounced the Doom. "The Images of Time recorded on the very tapestries of my beloved, and her handmaids."

Estela stared, then looked down, numbly.

I do not deny anything. She found herself saying, as if she still had a tongue and mouth. As if she had physical form. Except that it was totally soundless. Yet the sound of her voice filled her ears- how could this be? Maybe as she was not in physical form, then her voice would not be either?

I wondered if this moment would come, she continued. Always I wondered. Sometimes I even longed for it. And I am ready to accept whatever Doom you may have for me, Lord Námo. I accept my fate and I trust them into your hands and in the hands of the other Valar, and the All-Father.

Námo raised his eyebrow in the shadows. "Truly? Most even deny or despair that they are dead."

She shook her head. Not I, Lord of Mandos. I have resigned myself to this long ago. My fate is in the hands of higher- and purer- beings than myself. This, I have always known, and accepted.

"You are a different child to Our Father," he mused. "Pure and strong. Beautiful yet as strong as you are fair and pure. You were right. And on more than that. The War of Wrath was a failure on behalf on the Eruhíni. The various divisions with elves, humans and dwarves. Even the ents failed. All of them, more concerned about their own well-being and their own goals and aims to worry themselves about the fate of Arda. But you? You are different. Although I felt you intended to redeem your House, I believe as such that you wanted something else. Something not for yourself. Am I right?"

Estela didn't know what to say.

"Very few things you have allowed to keep for yourself," Námo continued. His voice was gentle. Not at all like one that imposed doom. "Why is that? Even your marriage, your children…. Everyone sacrifices things if they understood love, but never more than what they have to. You?

"Oh, Estela. My child. You believe that I would impose the Doom against you? Heartlessly against all others? Even the ones that fall deserve to have a second chance, if they are capable and choose to do Good. But we had to be sure that you would choose Good. Was that what you feared? That no matter how much the fruits of your labours, it would all be for nothing?"

My son, Estela whispered brokenly, in tears of light. My husband and daughter.

Námo sighed. "Yes. There is that. But even in the darkest of nights, there is always light. Come,"

Suddenly, the room swirled. Estela found herself somewhere.

It was dark alright. This was, without the place, the darkest place in Eä. In fact, an imaginary chill (she could no longer feel cold) swept through her, as she wondered if she was still in Eä.

But then she could make something out. A huge, dark shape. It was HUGE. Larger than anything she had ever seen. Not even dragons or Balrogs could compare. But then she saw it had the outline of… something. Or someone.

And there, glinting around the apparently dormant form, wrapped around it, was a chain that glittered in all colours- predominantly red and green, depending on where one looked at it. A metal unlike any found on Arda or made by the elves.

And an iron crown.

Estela would have gasped if she could, as she realised who this was.

"Here lies Morgoth, Dark Enemy of the World, formerly Melkor, He-Who-Arises-In-Might, former Vala and brother to Manwë in the Eyes of Our Father." Námo intoned solemnly. "The cause of many sufferings. Including yours. And who would one day be released."

Startled, she looked up to him. What?!

"A day will come, as Our Father would say, when Morgoth kicks aside the Doors of Night that separates him from the rest of Eä. When he and Sauron arises and sets free the other monsters from the void. A time when he destroys the Sun and Moon. The time for Dagor Dagorath."

That term meant the Final Battle.

Námo looked at her. "Yes," he said. "All things have an end. Including the Ages of the Sun and Moon. Including Arda as we know it. The next time Morgoth is freed, would be his last. And at last, we shall descend from Taniquetil, and battle once more. And all those great heroes of the past shall be re-embodied, released from Mandos. Ecthelion of the Fountain. Túrin Turambar son of Húrin… And your family."

She stared at him, wide-eyed and in shock.

But, she whispered. I thought you said they were Doomed. Forever condemned…

"My prophecy was given," he said softly. "But it was the journey, not the destination that was foretold. You were the key to the destination. The one who revealed the End of the Journey- for us and for Arda. "

Estela stared at him.

"The test had been passed. We were to see if there was one among their number who had the courage and the strength to resist the lure of temptation and their own desires. And if one passed the test, others would be spared- and redeemed. The All-Father promised the House of Fëanáro would not be destroyed, if just one could prove them wrong- prove that they, who had been adored and looked-up to before their fall- could stand and hold against evil. And against all odds, you exceeded all expectations. You did what you did, even for those you had never met. Thousands, if not millions have you to thank for. And although they may not know it, it is to you, that we will survive the fall into darkness."

Námo smiled down at her, and suddenly Estela found herself in another place entirely. Where she was, she did not know.

"Estela, child." Námo said. "Eruvandë, you were named, Promise of Eru, for you were the promise Our Creator made, not only to your parents- but for the rest of Arda. Estela was your mother-name, and it meant Hope. And a Hope you were to become for the races of Middle-Earth and for Arda."

They stared at each other for a long time.

"Long have your fates been determined by others," Námo said. "But now, I give you a choice: Stay here, in my Halls, and find healing and peace. You will like it here, for despite their fears, they always do." There was a hint of a smile in his voice. "Here you will find bliss, rest and healing. And when the time comes, if you so choose, you may be re-embodied and sent back to live amongst the ever-green valleys of your home- your birthplace. Do you wish that?"

Estela felt once again that she was crying imaginary tears.

Peace, she whispered. I may have forgotten what that was. She hung her head. But how can I heal when my children- are still out there? And my husband? What will happen to them? I have lost all. How can I save them, if I am to stay here, to linger in bliss? How can I even heal? I have no desire to be ungrateful, Lord Námo. In fact, you have shown me the greatest kindness and mercy. But I cannot be at peace when others are not at peace. The world will suffer. And as a mother… She choked.

My children, she whispered. Oh, my children. And there Estela, deceased Queen of the Noldor wept.

And I cannot go back, she wept. Even if all my family were there, even if the memories could be erased. Nothing would be the same without them in any case. And not all my loved ones will be here. Sauron has my son. My family will suffer. The world will suffer. Lord Námo, how can I be at peace with that?

"If that is your decision," Námo mused. "Once again, you think of others before yourself. Then I have a solution. Your family is to be released- but not all. And you, yourself, Estela must come. The All-Father has called to me."


And at that moment, every Ainu froze. Every Vala became still and listened to something, it seemed, with a rapture. Every Maia stopped whatever they were doing and froze.

And at that moment something unheard of, unprecedented happened in the history of Eä.

At that moment, in the Halls of Mandos, Estela, the fëa of the Queen and shieldmaiden of the Noldor was submerged in a rectangular pool filled with waters of deepest midnight blue, glittering with lights, like stars, except that these were something else entirely. Something with the Light of the Ainur.

And there, the Lord of Mandos came. He took the fëa of Estela, and bore it with him up high.

For the first time in Ages, he departed Aman. And the other Ainur came with him.

They had made their judgement. The Valar handed this power to the One from which all powers come from.

And to Halls of Light, timeless and immemorial, did they bear the first earthly being to come.

The last thing Estela saw before she rose to the Heavens was light.

And there something truly miraculous happened. The stars themselves seemed to celebrate, and the sun and moon glowed together at the same time.

The Ainur glowed with their inner light, shining so brightly, it could only be Heavenly Light. In the ever-green grass of Valinor, in Tanquetil and the skies, under the deeps which were ruled over by Lord Ulmo, everywhere, the Ainur shone with light through their real forms- their own spirits.

And an elven fëa was forever changed. No longer elf. Not human or dwarf either. No longer bound to the earth.

And the heavens exploded with light, as did the sky. And Elves on Valinor gasped as they beheld the night sky, as bright as day.

And then something burst through the heavens, shining with such brilliant light. No star could shine that bright. No gem. No, what shone was not of the earth, what shone through the heavens and the skies, was a Maia.

With wings so white and shining they outshone those of clouds just before the sun bursts through them, so magnificent they were, they created the most powerful winds, the Maia soared through the skies.

And there, Eärendil on Vingilótë, stopped as he sailed through the skies, and stared as something much, much brighter than his Silmaril, swooping past him, and soaring high into the air, on great, shining wings, reflecting the light as well as exuding its own. High into the air, amidst the stars, she went and the Maia took her very first breath as another being entirely for the first time.

Her burnished copper hair, streaked with pure silver and gold, as if from Laurelin and Telperion, shone brighter than ever, streaming back, loose curls and gentle waves moving with the wind. Her eyes were closed, savouring this new moment- and the opportunity, above all, to help the ones she cared about.

And the ones she loved.

And Estela opened her eyes to a brand-new life. An eternal life, something which not even the elves dreamt to have- the earthly beings. For all was filled with light and the freshness and coolness of the air.

And tears shone in her emerald eyes, shining with the Light of the Ainur which the All-Father bestowed upon her, as she beheld all in her new life, and whispered the names of the ones she loved.

And as she stretched out her arms, she whispered their names.

And readied herself for a brand-new task, one that lay ahead.


Bet you weren't expecting that!

Epilogue is next chapter. What happens next. The task she's assigned to.

Yes, I know this is unusual. But any explanation would be given next chapter.