VI. (Elenwe)
Before the War of Wrath, there was only one full-blooded Vanya who ever set foot within the halls of Mandos, only one who ever took part his curse.
Compared to the mournful gloom of her surroundings, her lost shone itself like a wayward star, even when the memory of the glittering ornament she was wont to wear in Valinor was far behind -
Or perhaps, that's just how it seemed to one who would come to kneel at her feet to beg forgiveness.
The auburn-haired huntsman was, of course, well-aware of the irony, and the hollowing of what little ground they'd ever had to stand on now that they had caused her daughter – the child of their own cousin – to be left without her mother.
The last memory he had of her was of a small girl scarcely older than his now half-grown nephew. He wondered what Elenwe's daughter would feel, how she would come to remembers this.
He wonders what Elenwe's daughter will become.
The lady herself is, of course, as gentle and serene as her husband was strict, so wise and forgiving that he felt all the more crushed beneath the weight of his sins.
"It is alright, Pityafinwe. You are punished enough as you are."
"I am not nearly punished enough, lady. I received a mercy I did not deserve because I repented.
Only the all-father knows what might be in store for my brothers."