Now did Findis come down from the mountain.
An incident of this magnitude couldn't possibly be ignored.
She was part of the delagation that accompanied the Valar themselves when they came down to investigate the matter; She took part in the questionings and investigations and was present in the assemply as one of many jurors when the son of her father proudly declared himself without a single shred of doubt in the rightheousness of his unprecedented actions.
When Manwe himself consulted her privately to ask her opinion of what might be behind the happenings in Tirion, since it was after all her birthplace, she felt the taint of the association, and judged that it was obvious, for there was one man in all of the city who was most eminent in his pride and flagrant blasphemy, his intemperance made manifest once more by this newest transgression that had outdone all the ones preceding.
But as it stood, her brothers had answered their questioning with contradictory claims, and Findis was asked not as a loyal servant, but as the sister of the accused parties which of the two she believed. They even apologized to her, for forcing onto her what they thought must be a 'painful choice'.
She felt very little attachment at all that could have moved her heart to pain.
The more she'd heard of both the offending event and the leadup to it, the more she'd felt her chest turning to a stone.
"I don't know what either of those two are thinking. It seems to me that they have both gone mad – but if you ask of me my best guess, I would guess that the origin of the matter lies with Curufinwe Feranaro. His iconoclastic heresies have long masqueraded as scholarship, and his disposition is known to us all."
But the King of Arda had just regarded her with some wistful concern, and at last concurred with his wife and appointed Doomsman in their suppositions that there must be more at work, and as the fuller picture emerged over the course of the investigations, the outline of that picture left her on the surface, duly concerned, and in the depht, struggling explain away the touch fear licking up her spine.
She had lived a long time and seen many things, thus having the wisdom to recognize a presence that lay wholly outside the scope of her long, regular experience. There was something new at work here, something disordered, portending the disruption of all she had known, and she did not like it once bit.
So she did what she had always done in the clutches of doubt, and clung ever fiercer to that which she thought to be certain.
…
While both questioning and judgement were still ongoing, fragments of a heated discussion were heard from the lodgings of prince Arafinwe. Of course, it was not the princes' own words that were hear from the windows.
"He is – NOT – our brother!" declared Lalwen, interrupting the lord of his house in his quieter, gentler words.
She was pacing, gesturing, fuming – and her hairs were out of place.
Her sister, if anything more put-together than usual, looked on from the side of the room like a statue.
"He never wanted to be our brother. He never acted like it – I say he can have his will. As far as I'm concerned, he's no brother of mine! Our brother", she stressed, "- just had a deadly weapon pointed to his heart. What manner of family are we if we do not stand with him?"
Immovably rooted in her place, Findis balked at this:
"So because Curufinwe transgressed, you want us to transgress yet more in response? Two wrongs don't make a right. We shall not lessen the amount of sin in this world by adding to it ourselves in the name of its prevention."
"We don't really know what happened yet-" cautioned Arafinwe, struggling to keep it from sounding like exhausted pleading. "Let's just wait for the end of the trial-"
In her exasperation, Lalwen's arms when swisching through the the air.
"Come on now! Whose side are you on?"
"There are no sides-" insisted Arafinwe – thought he wondered why he kept trying. He didn't feel like anyone here was listening to him very much, as of late.
Or maybe they were: The oldest of his sister fixated him with cold eyes: "Are there? Cause I think this matter is very clear. The people of this city are callously renouncing all the good and generosity they received by the grace of the Valar. They are proud and ungrateful and drunken with their might; If the works of their hands and the knowledge they have gathered blind them to goodness and truth, it would have been better for them if they'd kept living in huts rather than to raise up the towers of their pride. They'd all do well to do penance – and that includes you, Arafinwe. You know in your hearts that our brothers are both in error and rebellion, that they are both drunken with jealousy and pride, and utterly irresponsible in their petty rivalry - and yet you dither in calling it by its name. Have some fortitude, will you?
You can't avoid taking a stand forever."
It seemed then to Arafinwe that his much divided sisters were suddenly an united front, boring into him with their eyes and urging him to choose.
But he could not.
"You're all mad!" judged Findis, in more disbelief than wrath, "All four have you have gone completely mad!"
….
The instruction, in itself, was pretty simple:
"Now go to your room, and fetch all the things you'd like us to bring."
And yet young Tyelperinquar couldn't seem to shake off this sense of unease that seemed to be permeating the entire town as of life, but most of all his household, and lingered in the doorway, reluctant to bear the tension in the air without the company of his father, though it was no lesser in his presence.
If he had the choice, he would have clung to his father's robes and refused to leave his side even for a moment, but of course that wasn't much of an option, since he was supposed to be a big boy now. His father and grandfather always stressed how it was crucial for a man to stand on his own.
Speaking of his father, he was, for the most part, acting like nothing was wrong. All day long, he'd been issuing confident, purposeful orders to all the staff, overseeing with hawkish exactitude how all their belongings were packed away into crates, barels, wagons and carriages.
But there was a subtle, imperceptible difference that the soft heart of a child was bound to pick up, like a crooked note in a symphony.
"Aren't you forgetting to pack Mama's stuff? Won't she be coming with us? Is it going to be a special boys only retreat? Is that why Grandma isn't coming, either?"
"I expect they'll follow us soon enough, once they come to their senses."
There were many follow-up questions that one might have asked to that, but for the first time in his life, Tyelperinquar found that he didn't want to know the answer to something.
He felt hot and squirmy inside, and he didn't know what to do about it.
He wished he was with Mama, but if he went to look for her, father would probably get mad.
He wanted to run and hug father, but that would have meant acknowledging a distress that father seemed determined to ignore. It didn't seem okay to say very much of anything.
Tyelperinquar wanted very much to stand tall and proud like a big boy, but it took all his strenght to keep his lip from quivering.
"I'm going to miss playing Itarille and Artaresto…"
"Never mind them! You're going to have plenty of splendid new playmates when we get to Formenos."
"But they're my friends!"
Now this did draw Prince Curufinwe's attention ftrom the tools that he had been in the process of packing away.
Right away, Tyelperinquar felt a distinct sensation of panic. Now he'd done it, he feared. Now he'd gone and said something that was not alound…
Hearing the thunder brewing, the boy branced himself for the lightning to strike, but though the charge was clearly present in the air, the strike never came. His fathere merely dropped what he was doing, walked over to the bewildered child and knelt down, so that what he clearly considered important words could be spoken from eye to eye: "Listen son, there's something that you better understand sooner rather than later: In life, there's nothing and no one you can count on, except for your family. No one else will stick it out with you no matter what, so you should stick with us as well. Don't let anyone or anything come before your own blood. Believe me, those two brats are not your friends."
"But aren't they our family, too? Isn't Mama family? Isn't grandma?"
"They're supposed to be," conceded the Prince, though there was something clearly smoldering under the surface. "but it seems they don't feel like acting the part."
There was a very ugly expression on his face as he said that.
Normally, whenever he was upset, Tyelperinquar would have ran into his father's arms for comfort, but now he didn't know what to do.
"Daddy, I'm confused."
This he said because of all the complaints he could think of, this one seemed to be the most acceptable.
Yet his feeble attempts at expressing concerns were brushed aside as the immature understanding of a child.
"You'll understand when you're older. Now go and fetch your things!"
….
It only became history in hindsight.
When the fateful decisions were first made, they were uncertain, reluctant affairs, many times second-guessed and underestimated in the far-reaching consequences that they would never have had if any detail in what came after had been otherwise.
"The Lords have served me faithfully many years, but by now they've each minded their own fiefs for almost as long, so they can tend to consider those first-" the King instructed, though what he'd meant to be a sober reminder of important matters could not held but be suffused by the taut emotional tension that had gripped the entire city.
He could not find it in himself to sound much like an exacting lord and teacher, and his second son listened dutifully in unreadable silence.
"Make sure that you also listen to the guildmasters and don't lose touch with the problems and opinions of the common men on the ground. When you are in charge, there will be many who would sing your praises and nod to your every word – these you must beware, lest you lose the invaluable guidance of honest counsel.
Moreover, I expect that you might want many of your own staff – I leave this up to your discretion, but whoever you choose, I advise that you foster a relation of trust with them, so that they may prove your most potent assets."
"Yes, father." spoke Prince Nolofinwe – a somber, dutyful acknowledgement, nothing more, nothing less. The silver light falling through the windows threw his face in sharp relief.
If you supposed that this conversation was about the management of the city, there was little more left to discuss, and yet, the King seemed to find this lump of doubt in his throat, some unacknowledged shame tugging at his shoulders, a feeling that he ought to say more, if there was anything that could be said under these circumstances, as if words could have made it better. It had long been Finwe's chosen business to better things with words, but all his rhetorics failed him when it came to his family.
"I don't doubt," he tried to make clear, "that our fair city will be left in good hands – besides, you'll be having Findekano and Turukano to support you much as you have supported me – they've come into their own so nicely-"
All true, heartfelt sentiments – yet both men knew that the chief concerns hanging of their heads were not chiefly to do with the administration of Tirion.
The presence of things unspoken took rather palpable form in she shape of Prince Maitimo, whose distinctive tall shape could be glimpsed just beyond the sheer drapes in the door arch, where he was waiting for the king, presumably, because their carriage had arrived.
He wasn't the only one present. What should have been a light-filled room framed by slender marble columns was now somehow overcast with some imperciptible gloom.
The queen stood aside, her face concealed because she could not fashion its features into anything helpful or pleasant to the situation.
She had the nominal support of her daughters, but while their arms might have been on their mother's arms and shoulders, the younger's fierce glares were aimed very much at the center of the room, while the elder remained unreadable, thought it would seem that in their shared dissaproval of these going ons, they had found a temporary truce.
They glared holes into their father's back where their mother would not, observing as the king went through all the expected notions, formally declaring his second son as his steward, handing over the crown, all of that.
In the opinion of the two chief witnesses, it was all kind of a farce.
Well – Lalwen was there as witness. Findis was, at least in theory, supposed to preside over this in her function as a cleric, but no oe could say what sort of blessing one might expect her to bestow when the Valar she was supposed to represent had witheld theirs.
"Worry not," the King had told her, "I know you have your own duties to attend to and shall be expected back on the slopes of Oilosse – We won't keep you long, your brother can handle the affairs of state – it is enough if you offisciate the ceremony."
And here she was, officiating. Silently doing her part.
Though she had denied any intentions to return – "The Valar", so she had decreed, "would rather that the peace of these lands were not disturbed again. My duty is here. With these wayward people, and with my mother."
She didn't count them as her own people, least after this ominous unrest that she could not understand. Her own kin had become strange and absurd to her.
"Very well then – then I will ask nothing more than that you keep your mother company, and help out Nolofinwe in with your own gifts."
To all this she had stood at attention and nodded, but said very little.
The thoughts of the younger sister were by comparison simple, and rather plain on her face as the little performance of court ritual began to near its end.
"So you're really going to leave us? After all that? At a time like this?"
The King certainly flinched in such a way that would suggest that he very much felt his daughter's cutting words.
Nolofinwe himself would dutifully restrain the very sister who was intent on defending him, but she would not hear it.
The king, however, intended to answer for himself.
Like one who was being pulled at once into many directions, he struggled for once to find the right words. Maybe, or so he felt, there could be no right words on a day where there could be no right choices.
He was surely pained in his answer, but in the end, he did not change it:
"I cannot leave him. No matter what he has or has not done – I can't. He's my responsibility."
"You speak of responsibility?!" to the surprise of everyone present, it was not Lalwen, but Findis from whom this exclamation had come. "Have you no responsibility to us then? Is Nolofinwe not also your son? Is mother not also your wife? Have you no obgligation to your people, whom you are leaving behind when they need you the most? Have you no obligation to the Valar, who have blessed you beyond al measure and shown you mercy in your weakness?!
Have you no shame?!"
"Findis, please, enough!" at least it was the queen, worn and weary, who put an end to is, grasping her daughter's hand with her own, revealing her drawn and tear-stained face.
Even now her tired voice was gentle and forgiving, do what you must."
"It's alright dear, I understand – Go forth."
In later years, Findis would come to feel a great deal of shame for her very first impulse – which was to turn on her mother and accuse her of shamelessness as well, if she were willing to put up with this unforgiveable slight. Only duty restrained her, her ideas of being a good daughter, or a faithful devotee. She would ever be shamed that it wasn't compassion, that her arms were hard and her glance disapproving even as she went through the rituals of support.
Stonehearted would be the person who did not even feel the least bit of shame after witnessing the queen's pained humility.
One way this was evident was that Maitimo had passed under the drapes.
"Please, my ladies, don't be upset-" he was in all ways the perfect picture of coutersy politeness, except that he would not adress the queen by her title nor his uncle as a relative while his father yet lived. "My father may have made some… questionable decisions because he thought himseld beset by enemies on all side. In coming with him, we shall show him that he has many loyal allies around him, and by the time we return, he will surely have seen that there was never any cause for suspicion – and then it won't be long until we can put this entire matter behind us."
It was still thought possible then that all things might be forgiven, but it was already in doubt wether the people would forget.
Finwe, for his part, did not take it for granted that he would be welcomned back into his seat of power or the queen's bedchambers; but it was the sacrifice he'd been willing to make out of all possible branches of impossible decisions.
...
The king did not pass his youngest son until he was halfway out the gates.
He marked the prince's presence by a sympathetic hand on his shoulder; If not quite a gesture of support, it was at least of a show of pity and understanding.
Though prince Maitimo must have certainly marked his approach, he said nothing and stood asige, going but a little ahead to keep a respectful distance, so that father and son might be granted a moment of privacy, perhaps making a lenient interpretation of the orders he'd received from his own sire.
"I can imagine what you're thinking – you may go ahead. Let me have your opinion as well."
"Nah, " judged Arafinwe, keeping whatever thoughts he might have readied in the secrecy of his heart concealed behind , "Once upo a time, I might have, but then I became a father myself. They've all turned out so much rowdier than I had bargained for. Artanis is always badgering me for new things to do; I thought I'd finally had that sorted out when Aule and Yavanna consented to have her study in their household, but now she's gone and told me that she's tired of that, too. Recently, they've all been talking as if this far wide land were suddenly become small and narrow. I think they may be starting to consider it – all this talk of leaving. Young Artaresto came to me about that recently - He didn't want to contradict his own father to his face, but I think the directions that the discussions at the dinner table are taking are beginning to trouble him a great deal… I didn't know what to say I tried as best as I could to comfort him, but I was rather at a loss – Angarato himself had said nothing of the sort to me. I don't know what to say, because I do not understand it. I can't imagine looking at all the forests, towers and brightness in this land and ever wanting anything else – I may be their father, but that doesn't mean that I always understand them. "
"I don't understand it either!" confessed the king, "I look at them, and it's like they repell each other by some unknown force like the wrong ends of two lodestones, and I cannot say why. "
"So you were content to just let them avoid each other until the end of Arda without ever doing anything about it?"
"What can I do? Any time that I made them be in the same room, all that ever accomplished was to make them both miserable. Yet be their faults as they may, it seems plain to me that neither of them is capable of this sort of… plot. But somehow I cannot make them see that."
"You can see it because you know them both well, and so do I, but in that, we might be the only ones in all of Aman - my brothers, at least, do not know the first thing about each other – not at all. Not if they'd each so easily believe the that other would ever betray you. They don't know each other, and an unknown can easily be painted over by anything – you might be told anything about it and you couldn't easily conform or deny it. They could tell you anything about it and you'd have to take it on faith. You can project anything onto an unknown – including one's worth nightmare. If we told either of them that the other isn't out to get them, they'd have to take our word for it, and they wouldn't have more or less proof than for the words of Melkor."
"Yet I would think that they would trust our word over his."
"Can they?" questioned Arafinwe somberly, "Can they really? Have we been so reliable, father? -"
This here was a classic example of a pause for emphasis, the virtue of which Finwe himself had once taught his youngest son to appreciate, not unlike his brothers.
He'd told him also that such moments are good opportunities to come out with a surprising retort to deny your opponent of the reaction he wants you to marinate in, but the king could muster no such remark, so that his youngest son proceeded in his speech unchallenged:
"See, I can't judge you too harshly, because I'm not blameless myself in this. I cannot stand quarrels. I want nothing to do with them; Lalwen and Findis are right about that at the very least. If I could, I would pretend they don't exist and do my utmost to stay out of them forever – no, I have done exactly that far too often. I've avoided dealing with it. I've just – waited for it all to go away. So I can understand you, really – but I am not the King."
Arafinwe would, of course, have the skill to chose his tone of voice in such a way that these words, despite their strict meanings and evident intention, did not have the effect of a cutting reprobe, though they were putting forth an unpleasant truth that his father had hitherto been looking away from.
The king looked rather pensive at that, though his chain of thought ended in a bitter smirk, a sort of expression that looked very unfamiliar on him from the perspective of his son.
"Am I?" he mused, "Cause it seems to be that Manwe is the one handing out judgements in this city as of late."
"If he'd left it up to you, could you have been objective about it? Would the results have been likely to inspire very much faith in our house? It was probably the least worse option."
"Is that what you really believe?"
"What I believe is that we can't ignore fighting in the streets. Or any of this crazy talk of… leaving. Though I can't deny that my own inaction also played its part in getting Earwen and the kid caught up in it as well."
"Is it crazy?" mused the king. "You know, back in the day, many of our elders didn't understand why we would ever want to leave cuivienen. Coming here seemed like madness to them."
"Really?" Arafinwe raised an eyebrow. This was not one of those stories that he'd heard time and time again.
"Really. Tata and I did not part on good terms."
"You never mentioned that." It was no accusation at all, but certainly some shart observation.
"It seemed an unfortunate tale not worth the telling, not a grudge worth keeping, with the sea between us and all. He'd thought that my intention was to be… stirring up things…" the king slowed down a little here, as though becoming aware of the irony in the very moment of speaking it.
"And there I was, the most convinced of all, urging everyone forward though they'd all wanted to settle down and start their families any time we came upon a particularly fair patch of land. I kept arguing that we should all wait to come here, where we might be able to settle in bliss and live in safety. I believed in it. I supported it in word and deed, I stood for it, putting my name and reputation on the line. I waited. I delayed, until we finally glimpsed the light on the other shore. I left my closest friend, and half of everyone I'd ever known, and I did it all without mumbling. I never asked reward, other than a safe place to raise my children a nd some nicer crafting tools for my fiancé. That's all the reward I could imagine then – I was born in a hut with a dirt floor that was maybe rather larger than my neighbor's because I'd worked out some neat trick from playing around with flintstones.
And now, my wife is gone, and my children are going at each other with swords – and if you asked Manwe, I'm sure that he would tell you that it's all because I didn't have enough faith or patience! - So yes, I sued! Of course I sued! I would do it again! It had nothing to do with Feanaro. I wasn't asking restitution from him."
"Is it as Arakano said, then? Did you repent of you choice to lead us here here?"
"Not particularly. I cannot truly say that I have been ill-treated, or that the same has been true for my people. No one among the Eldar has had to depend on huts or flintstones for a very long time. I have no quarrel with Manwe, though we may have our disagreements. If he has made errors, then they are probably lesser than mine – none of us can do more than try to do our best, each according to our measure. If I petitioned him at all, that was because I trusted him – because I'd trusted that under a just rule, I would be able to demand my right and that any disagreements we might have could be settled in an orderly manner through discourse and mediation, and I cannot say that I was dissapointed in that sense – certainly not with you standing right beside me. I got what I wanted insofar as this was possible, right? In that regard at least, I cannot consider myself wronged.
The issue is rather that I had a choice, as did all of those who came with me. None of you were ever asked. I'm certain that, if I'd chosed to go through with the wedding before my departure – if you'd all been born earlier – then your brother would have chosen to remain behind, and I should never have seen his face again."
"I don't believe that", noted Arafinwe somberly.
"Why is that?"
"You're going with him now. If he had stayed, then you would have stayed with him, and it is mother and I who are never going to see you again – would have, I mean. We never would have-"
Even as he was correcting his words, Arafinwe felt the solid awareness of certainty suddenly spreading through his body, like the penny of foreboding that had been twirling in the air for long had at last finally dropped – But he never got the chance to respond to this conclusion: The conversation that had begun on the way out to the stairs of the palace, where the seminal misdeed of the tragedy had taken place not too lon ago, was now come to an end in the great square, with both men sitting, arms crossed, across from each other in the plaza, with the crystal-like branches of the White Tree Galathilion spreading out above their heads.
Arafinwe noticed first, for he was somewhat less absorbed in his emotions, and ceased the motions of conversation as the first inklings of an oppressive, smoldering aura began leaking in their presence like the first scent of smoke.
It wasn't long before Arafinwe found himself fixated in the crosshairs of a disdainful pair of storm-grey eyes, courtesy of that tall, familiar shadow who seemed to treat his very presence as a deathly insult, with a serious yet apologetic-looking Maitimo following not too far behind.
Arafinwe took this as his cue to remove himself from the situation.
"Have a safe trip", he said only, quiet as ever, as he picked himself off the low wall he had been sitting on, "All of you."
...
Nolofinwe did not change anything about his father's office.
It was only meant to be a temporary arrangement after all – sure, the great darkwood desk started looking rather more organized, and an extra set of orderly quils off to the side, but all that was left as is was spared with reverence; Not even that obnoxious, gold-framed larger-than-life portrait of a sour-faced adolescent Feanaro did get the boot; That, he deemed petty and unsportsmanlike and going in the direction of confirming all the slander that had been spread around his person, though the prince regent did not completely suceed in convincing himself that he was beyond fazed.
Sometimes, when one of the lights was on the wane and the second not yet rising to meet it, Nolofinwe felt like the painting was judging him
– not that he'd ever seriously entertain such a a ridiculous notion.
His sisters had reminded him often that he was technically the king now, one with pride, and another, with sharp appeals to his responsibility, as if Nolofinwe had not felt it all his life - They wanted him to get rid of it – one out of simple dislike for the pictured person and dislike for their father's leniency on him, the other, because it seemed to her innapropriate and inauspicious to have the likeness of a sentenced criminal displayed in the office of the king – if it truly was such a thing: The guarded, soft-faced youth captured forever in that painting had comitted no crimes yet, and neither had whatever painter had produced it and, no doubt, greatly prided themselves of having contributed something to the royal study.
Nolofinwe sometimes wondered what the painter in question might now think about what had become of the young prince who he had once captured with his brush-strokes.
"Who cares!" fumed Lalwen, on one occasion where she was leaning at his desk, having just brought some reports from the guildmasters that she'd been tasked to meet with.
"I wonder if he's happy now, since he's finally gotten what he wanted – He's got father all to himself now. He's torn us all apart. I bet he gets a real kick out of it when he pictures mother sitting by herself here all on her own!"
Nah. Privately, Nolofinwe was not so hopeful. He doubted that they half-brother thought very much of them or their mother at all, now the he was, in a fashion, rid of them.
But that's not what he said.
"This isn't my study. I'm only taking care of things for father. I doubt he would want me to start redocorating while he's away."
"You could at least get it out of sight, so he can hang it up again when he returns, if he still thinks that's a good idea."
"When Curufinwe returns – and father with him – I shall release him, and do my part to put all this behind us, so that everything can finally go back to normal."
"You think? I don't expect Curufinwe to have any shame, but I'd find it rather bold-faced of father, if he thought that he was still welcome with all the ones he deserted – You're far too forgiving, Nolofinwe. You're going to get screwed over. You know that that sneering bastard wouldn't hesitate an instant to stab you in the back if he got the chance; You don't need to let him in order to prove a point, and certainly not for father's sake. He can clean up his own mess for once, instead of always dumping it all on us! It's time we had our own lives – we don't exist to wipe up anyone's mess. Nor father's, and certainly nor Curufinwe's. You're the king of Tirion now. Peoplewant you to be king, in case you didn't notice. And you know why? Because you're popular, and competent, and just, and because didn't abandom your post. You didn't bugger off to Formenos, or to Valmar, or Alqualonde – You're here, doing all the work. You have the people's support – act like it. As I see it, you are the rightful high king of the Noldor!"
"I'm father's steward, nothing more –" said Nolofinwe, perhaps a bit more forcefully than it was merited. I will not make his lies true by my own hand."
Findis, too, had plenty a whole lot to say to him – she established herself, in effect, as the coming and going liason between the throne and the Valar, who of course had great interest into getting the situation in the city under control.
Nolofinwe sometimes privately thought might think that they were barking up the wrong tree, seeing as all troublemakers had removed to Formenos, though of course, as far as his big sister was concerned, none of them could ever repent enough.
Sometimes, though he wasn't proud of the thought, Nolofinwe found himself thinking that Findis should try ruling Tirion herself if she thought she could do it so much better. It was so much easier to critique everything as an outsider – she of course would have contested that this same distance was what made her more objective, while she accounted him as scarce less prideful than their shared half-brother.
If she was going to huff and puff like the eldest, then she might as well act the part and take the throne. But no, she wouldn't stain herself with that, to her, ingloriously prideful office – never mind that without power and its realistic inconveniences, you cannot do anything, no matter how much you complain….
"That's not it", remarked Arafinwe, on an occasion when his brother had vented to him about this. "It's not that she thinks herself to good for it; It's that she wouldn't trust her own judgement."
"Nonsense! Does she not lead people as High Priestess? Elves and Maiar both."
"It's not her skill or discernment that would be in question", observed Arafinwe, sadly "I think she strives so much toward goodness and purity because she isn't certain of her own goodness in the deep of her heart. If she were to rule here on her own, she'd have to make quick descisions in response to unforseen circumstances. There would be no time to confer with and refer back to the Valar on every little thing; She would need to make a decision and stick with it even when she can't be sure it's truly right – She doesn't trust herself with that power."
"I know," conceded Nolofinwe, "I know, it's just…"
"...exhausting to have to be the patient one?"
"Yes. How do you do it?"
"With varying degrees of success."
(The brothers shared a wan little smile there, though it was soon to be chased away by thoughts of business)
"Anyway – now that you're here, I'd like your opinion on the latest petitions."
….
During the years of the crown prince's exile, the queen was still making public appearances, both official ones alongside her son, and those expected at public functions.
They were perhaps not as numerous as they had been before – after all, some of the queenly duties had now been passed on to the Lady Anaire;
She was of course ever-ready to advise the new de-facto royal pair in whatever function that might be needed, and had declared this to assure both the lords and the citizenry that they could still hope for constancy and stability from their royal house, but in truth the Prince Regent and his wife had long-since been involved in the ruling of the city and already knew how everything worked.
But Indis let it not be said that she had hid herself from view, nor would be be accused of abandoning her people, though she was of course long used to the reality that those who were really motivated to do so would find something to accuse her of wether or not she even tried.
She never stopped smiling – Though who in their right mind would blame her, if the radiance of that smile never quite reached what it was before?
Only those close personal friends who had known her for long would have noted that she seemed at least a little more withdrawn during that time, like she saw less reason to show herself beyond the needs of duty and propriety if she had little mirth or laughter to add – those things, she had always gladly shared, but her burdens and sorrows were not the sorts of things that she wanted to go handing out.
She busied herself instead with the gardens, an old habit perhaps awaking from the faraway days when she'd felt a similar sorrow, though it was a rather different thing to nurse a private dream that you'd once thougth impossible than to see that dream fulfilled and then stand in its shards with the certainty that it never could have been what you had hoped it to be.
You can no longer comfort yourself with blissful fantasies of 'maybe' and 'what if'; But worst of all, you can no longer say to yourself that it is only a dream.
More and more often, she was seen looking out from the westward windows of those rooms that she now had to herself, looking, perhaps, out to her old home – though she had, by now, spent more time here than anywhere else. Perhaps it was rather the simplicity of earlier days that she missed, a community where she could just fill her part of the whole in a harmonic peace and just be, without having to brave the ever-questioned existence as the controversial foreign queen.
She had long borne it for her beloved's sake, but now, he wasn't even with her.
But wether they accepted her or not, the queen had not forgotten her people – for them, and for her children, she resolved to keep up her strenght, at least where people could see her.
She had company from her children and other descendants of course – her son, in particular, often sought her wisdom and experience.
He would not ask so directly as when he was a child, nor would he await her answer with transparent apprehension, but as his mother, she sensed well enough that he was, probably, looking for signs of approval and pointers of directions, any signs that he was doing well.
He was acting strong for his family and the people; Indis though that he should at least be allowed some indulgence by his dear old mother, so she made sure to remind him on every possible occasion:
"I'm proud of you, Arakano. You're doing splendid work."
She spared him the speculations about whatever his father may or may not have thought.
The two men had their own corresponse anyways; The Prince Regent penned regular letters, keeping his father involved about the going-ons of the realm.
He was greatly busy with those, however, so the one to visit Indis the most often was actually her oldest daughter, at least when she happened to be within the walls of Tirion, and had not gone to Valimar to make reports or offisciate rituals.
You might have thought (and this was not lost on the Queen) that, if Findis was too busy to be regent, she'd have no time for her lady mother either, but this was not so – rather, the eldest princess made certain to dwell with the queen when she was in Tirion, and if she went away, she usually returned with tokens, trinkets and messages from the inner lands and the rest of her family, many of which expressed great concern over these unprecendeted effects and rather wished that they could see Indis and support her in their midst, as well as any of her children who should wish to come with her – but Nolofinwe, at least, was at present very much not free to move, and there was little chance that either his mother or younger sister would have deserted him while that lasted.
Which is not to say that this did not awaken a certain patient longing in the Queen's breast – fain she would have liked to stay where she was welcome and belonging, surrounded from all sides by peace and love. So she was the last who would ever fault her dauhter for preferring to spend most of her days in such a place.
"You know you don't have to have dinner with me every day my dear."
"Yes I do. Others might have forgotten their duties, but I have not. And it is hardly every day, only when I am in town. The faith teaches us to help where we are needed – and right now, I am needed here, wether it is convenient for me or not."
Findis might not always have had the strenght to say this with conviction; for long, she had avoided her hometown indeed; She would still argue that Lalwen and Nolofinwe went too far when they accused her of being ashamed of their unusual, imperfect family or wanting to disavow them… no, perhaps, it was easier to admit in hinsight, after her present feelings had shifted.
Maybe at first it was only virtue and duty that had led her of making a show of caring about their mother, to hastily shovel dirt into the hole of her father's sins.
Findis had certainly never disliked her or been on especially bad terms, but she'd never been especially close with Indis like Nolofinwe was. Her memories of Indis from childhood were largely positive, though she'd looked at her, as with her father, as a weak, flawed person who must be supported with love but never thought up as a template to emulate. She'd sort of grown appart from her just as a side-effect of avoiding her with all the rest. Looking on with her heart clouded by the shame she'd felt in childhood, she'd often wished that she could be part of a normal family that was not in any famous legal documents and not being debated over.
She'd sometimes wondered why her mother couldn't be content with just some normal Vanya husband with no prior baggage, no kingdom filled nosy critics and most certainly no preexisting heretic sons leftover from whichever lady would have been their first choice.
Now, Findis wondered how she'd ever let that happen – So far as she could tell, as she was now, with the discernment of an adult and ages worth' of accomplishments to stand upon, Findis could not find the queen anything other than an exemplary image of godliness, full of of patience, forgiveness, gentleness, grace and dedication, all imbued with a consciously chosen kindness and warmth that Findis herself couldn't always muster even when it seemed appropriate. Indis had no reason to hold back her feelings, for they were mostly good and wholesome. She would have no reason to be reluctant in letting loose, when she need not have the fear that anything wicked may come tumbling out; Good people don't need rules. Rules get put up when self-indulgent takers make it so that no one can have nice things.
Until recently, for example, there had never been a need to state out loud that you weren't supposed to go around pointing swords at the throats of your fellow-citizens.
There did not use to be any swords at all, and now they were, and whose thought was that?
Who had to go and make it exist when there used to be no such thing?
Who made it keep existing, when it could to be forgotten?
Certainly not Indis.
Once Findis had begun to spend more time with her again, she had found it to be both a pleasure and a relief, like meeting just about the only sane person in a city gone stark raving mad (with the possible exception of Arafinwe, and that may be because he had spent so much time in Alqualonde)
The queen was patently not weak or corrupt or self-indulgent; Her strenght was of a quiet, enduring sort that Findis wasn't sure she could be capable of.
But Findis judged at last that she should not have waited for that proof – for her mother was clearly an innocent here. If her goodwill had been ill-used by some self-indulgent powerful king, that was none of her fault.
Yet Findis wasn't sure if she could do right by her even now, especially when it came to the particular request that was ever so often mixed-in with her parting words: "Please support your brother – he is facing such a challenging time right now; He has been through such a terrible thing."
Findis made an effort to soften her words to her mother, but she stopped short of speaking any outright falsehoods.
Of course she wished for her brother to suceed in his administration of the realm; But she would not follow him on any sort of unjust path.
…
The great vault of Formenos could be thought of as a massive hollow rectangle made entirely out of iron, secured by numerous means both visible and subtle, buried beneath the lowest roots of the fundament underneath the heavy towers – and yet, it was suffused by light, as if it were permanent day, yet cooler and cleaner – even when the chamber was broken open and all its contents ransacked, a pitiful remnant of radiance would be left clinging to the walls, dissipating slowly into the sky, above a world that should never again know its like, but that day was not yet come.
Right now, the king had come into it with the simple intention of seeking his son.
He made a bit of a point of checking just about every other place before this one, yet more than he would admit this to himself, he had begun to expect that he could usually count of finding him right here if she should exhaust the first couple of obvious spots.
The number of people that would be suffered to cross the chamber's threshold without soon meeting with the business end of a sword could be counted on a full set of fingers, but for all of them but himself, the exiled crown prince would have recognized their presence just from the rhythm and cadence of their steps, so there was no sign of alarm, or much of any other reaction.
The king calmly set himself down to eldest son, who was ever and anon interrupting or obscuring some of the radiance that drenched the room by turning one of its sources around in his hand.
If he held one of the silmarils in his palm and angled his arm away from himself in just the right way, the prince would be able to observe the bones in his hand through the back of it; In passing through his flesh, the light took on a pinkish hue that would spread of over most of the room and the assorted treasures within.
Privately, the king thought this a little eerie, but this, he did not say, nor did he wait for any acknowledgement of his presence. "So this is where you are!" he remarked in his best attempt at sounding casual.
There was, at first, no obvious sign that his son had heard him, and and first, the king let himself be content with this, but after a while, the words on the tip of his tongue escaped his
"You know, you have told you that you have made your gems very much indestructible, so I doubt that they are going to change very much from the way that you keep looking at them."
"I know," the Prince conceded, letting out a sigh – a sign of weakness that he would probably not have allowed himself in the presence of anybody else.
He did, at last, put his gems back in their display case, and turned to speak to his father, still seated on a heap of various treasures.
"I came here to think."
"Ah! What about?" The king's front of good cheer may have been masking a layer of concern, but only to an extent; This wasn't too different from many other conversations they had had over the centuries. Finwe had had all the time in the world to get used to his eldest son's eccentricities and regarded them mostly with fondness. This, so far, was to be counted as a success seeing that the prince was actually showing some modest signs of opening up:
"My next project, possibly."
Encouraging news, if he was thinking of something beyond this present situation. Asking him to talk about his latest work had always seemed to encourage him.
"Ah, so what's it going to be?"
"That's the thing. I don't know."
"Can't think of anything?" and here there was a playful hint to the king's voice, as if the very notion that his son could be out of ideas were amusing by its oxymoronic nature.
The king did not expect the degree of genuine frustration contained within the answer:
"Yes. No. I can think of things. I can think of a lot of things. But not a single one of them seems to match up to these."
There was no need to specify, not when the light of the gems suffused the entire room.
"Do you remember when I first unveilled them? Even those bloody Valar were mighty impressed! I'd never seen that kind of look on most of their faces. I bet they didn't expect that some little specks of dust like us could do something that they can't. But this once, they were forced to acknowledge it!"
But the grin that this reminescence had brought to the prince's features soon faded from there.
"Usually, whenever I'm done with a project, I'd already be thoroughly bored of it. I could see it's flaws and shortcomings already, and these became, more often than not, the seeds for my next endeavor. But with these? Nothing. I'm drawing a complete blank. I can't see a single way to possibly improve upon this or surpass it. I don't think I could even repeat it.
I'll be halfway through sketching out some idea, and then I'll wonder to myself what the point even is – I can picture the people talking: 'Oh yes, yes, very ingenious, but it doesn't really measure up to the silmarils; He must be losing his touch' and the worst is that it might be true.
Maybe this is as far as I go. Perhaps I have spent all that I had to offer – think on that: All I had to offer is here in this box, where anyone could pick it up and run for it.
It is as if my heart is outside of myself – It keeps making me uneasy.
It has me wondering, sometimes, if this is why I have been allowed…"
"Allowed?"
The King did not quite follow, which, to his son, seemed a definite surprise. He'd have thought that everyone must be thinking of it all the time, each time that they looked at him.
"Well you know! All that drivel that the Valar like to spew, about how everything happens for a reason and every single black stain in the world only serves the great plan of Illuvatar, how every mishap turns out for the better in the end… - was this whole mishap permitted so that I coud make these, for some arcane purpose other than my own?"
"As if your precious life were some evil that needs justification. You've spent all of it only adding to the glory of the world."
"You say this because you are my father."
"Well – I am! Before anything else. I'm still aware, of course, that it's been a long, long time since I had anything to teach you – it's been thousands of years since I've actually invented anything. But if I may presume to advise a great master, I would tell you that it seems to be like you're simply having a bit of an artistic blockage.
It is honestly not surprising – you've been through a lot in these couple of decades. You've had all thisa slander and plotting against you, by the marrer himself, no less! And on top of that you have been quarreling with your brother and your wife. You're away from home in a cold, dim, unfamiliar place – so don't be too demanding of yourself. Just – take a break for a bit. Distract yourself. Fill your mind with other things for a bit, as one would let a field lay fallow after bringing in great harvests.
When I am – stuck, in some fashion, I always find that a little bit of sweet company always lifts my spirits. Perhaps you should write to Nerdanel, it might not be too late-"
"I don't need her!" hissed the prince in disdain. His displeasure was not per se directed at his father; it just evaporated into the room, maybe as a means to prove something to himself.
"What would I want with a so-called wife who'd take the word of my enemies over my own?! I count myself glad to be rid of her!"
"I know that you've had your… differences, as of late, but she has been by your side for thousands of years, and now you are alone. It's only natural that you'd be affected by that – there is no shame in admitting it. We all need the help and support of others at some point. It's alright to rely on others… and perhaps, it is presumptious of me to point this out, now, when I have not always shown it to you when you were young. Your mother could not be there, and I was so distraught over her loss that you might not always have felt like you could turn to me, either…
But you know, Nerdanel is still alive. She's still out there, doing things – you could go to her at any time, and speak to her, you could ask her forgiveness-"
"Why? So that she can betray me again? I think I'll pass. I couldn't rely on that stubborn mule even if I wanted to. I couldn't rely on anything – no one can. Nothing is ever reliable; Nothing is ever constant. There's no one who couldn't fall away, or leave, or betray you, nothing that couldn't possibly crumble under your grasp. And this doesn't have anything to do with you, or with me, or with mother – it's always been the case. Mother is just the reason we noticed; It's just that everyone has forgotten it, because there is nothing anywhere in this land, down to the smallest root and branch that doesn't dance to the tune of the Valar.
But that's just a false security. A lowering of the odds. It just means that danger finds us less often, and that when it does, it finds us wholly unprepared.
Either of us could be wiped out at any possible moment. Everything that we care about could be destroyed. If you know of any reason why we can't be, I would like to hear it."
For his part, the king found that this didn't ring true, or that it didn't seem like the complete story to him, but the counter-proof he had been asked to provide just would not occur to him.
All the explanations he could cite were of the kinds that his son had already preempted – that it was unlikely, or that it had not happened yet – this he would consider a reasonable enough justification not to dwell too much on the possibility of desaster when it was so unlikely to come true, but as for reasons why it couldn't happen – those he could not provide.
In looking for them, he left open the space open for his son to speak next:
"I don't think it was fate. Or providence, or any 'greater plan'. I don't see how anything could be worth that. That's just their excuse."
It went without saying here that he was speaking of someone whom they had both lost.
"It didn't just happen - it was them with their judgement, and it was Melkor, the one they've set loose, who is still our there, scheming whatever he will- and none of us is doing anything about it."
"I thought that, too once. Even before that business with your mother. So I went charching into the forest with a lumpy copper sword, and it was only by great fortune that I happened to run into Lord Orome instead. It is beyond us."
"Is it? I could have sword that the sword that I made for you is not lumpy copper. Besides, surrender is what got us here. It's what made them run and hide themselves away in this little corner of our world, while turning their backs on all the rest of it, giving it all up for lost just because it no longer follows their neat little plan. I may not have their power, but I do still have my will. And that, they shall not take from me while I still draw breath."
…
"Oh yeah, that was Melkor. Didn't I mention?"
The King was not the only one that froze in his tracks when he heard this – that casual remark, thrown about wich such careless defiance as to seem petulant, changed all about what had previously just seemed like a mildly annoying occurrence retold as an anecdote over dinner.
Sitting at his father's right, Maitimo was evidently trying to keep the disbeliev out of his voice when he spoke next:
"And what, may I ask, did you do next?"
"I told him to get off my lawn of course, duh. I swear, none of those Valar even realize how bloody transparent they are. They probably think they can tell us anything!"
"You tell them, father!" chimed Curufinwe Junior, ever the yes-man.
Then that was that, and the conversation moved on. Tyelkormo and the twins may later have referenced the encounter in some crude jokes later on.
And for the first time, Finwe wondered if his son was not right in saying that the years of bliss had made them soft and unaware of danger. Feanaro had preached readyness and prepared his sons for danger, but now, it seemed to Finwe as if even they did scarcely know what they were dealing with – and if these were, among the denizens of Valinor, the most prepared of all, then what of the rest?
Still one tends to turn back on old patterns in times of desperation. Knowing that this was beyond him, Finwe's thoughts turned to those more powerful than he.
What pushed him forward in the end was the icy realization that the monster from the woods of his youth was not yet finished messing with his sons.
So once all the plates were cleaned, and all the diners ready to scamper off in their respective directions – first of all Feanaro, who had never once put aside thre thought of preparing for some eventual departure – the king made sure to pull aside the eldest of his grandsons.
"Maitimo dear, I would never ask you to keep a secret from your father – but if you had to send a messenger to go to Valimar without drawing much attention or stirring up any trouble, who among the staff would you choose?"
But there was no need to be subtle. Maitimo understood, at once, and seemed somewhat relieved, if anything, once he grasped the king's purpose, at last letting some of his own concern shine through in his grandfather's presence which he might have otherwise hid to stay strong in front of his brothers and nephew.
"Consider it done."
If Feanaro ever heard about the messenger, it didn't arouse his suspicion.
…
"Grandpa. I got a surprise for you."
"Ah, do you?" with some mild amusement, the prince looked up from the many struck-through diagrams on his sketboard to the youth that had just valiantly entered his study.
In those days, Feanaro couldn't shake off the impression that any time he blinked, he'd find his grandson just a little taller. He used to find it irritating when his father used to say similar things about himself, but now, he had grown to understand him.
Nowdays, the pair often commiserated on the matter of Tyelperinquar's recent impressive growth spurts.
But it wasn't just his height that was changing; There was a certain timidity still pulling at his from the edges, but the boy seemed determined to step forward, making himself boldly put one foot in front of the other and then, at last, hold out something in his palm.
All that composure faltered at once when Feanaro's first reaction was to bang the little gift against the heavy granite surface of his desk – though his intention became clear at one when he beheld the scratches left on the tiles.
With a thin, hopeful grin, he turned the trinket he had received over in his hand, inspecting it for any flaws or damage.
"Not bad – the rounded edges are very even, and none of the finer detailwork is sloppy. Did your father help you with this?"
"Uh-uh. He wanted to, but I didn't let him. I made it all myself! I even picked out the metals and prepared the alloy." insisted the boy, speaking in a quick, hasty manner, pushing himself to boldness.
"Papa wanted a more flashy shape, but, I thought that a ring would be more practical. All the while I was making it, I was thinking happy thoughts, and singing happy songs, so that it would always cheer you up - ah, and here's a chain you can put it on while you're working."
The chain was none too shoddy, either, but what the old master found the most remarkable was that the material of the ring did indeed carry a faint hum of power within it – a mere party trick, really, but beyond impressive for someone still in the double digits.
Forgetting his other cares for a moment, he allowed himself to be very, very pleased.
"It looks like I might be having to give someone extra lessons."
Despite his big, big grin, the boy did not immediately catch his drift:
"Oh- why? Did I do something wrong?"
"Not at all! That's precisely what's remarkable! This puts the masterpieces of my apprentices to shame, and I'm talking about the half that passed their exams!"
For all that his awkward lanky adolescent limbs had stretched as of late, prince Tyelperinquar proved still capable of some very child-like awe. His grey eyes went wide as saucers, glittering like moonstones.
"Really?"
"Oh yes."
"Really Really?"
"Would I saw this lightly? Actually, I'm beginning to get the feeling that you might just give me some real competition somewhere down the line."
"-do you really mean it? Cause, if you did, that would make me the happiest boy in all of Valinor!"
"I don't just mean it – I'm looking forward to it."