A/N: Very short, but sad. I made it short because I thought it appropriate
and it gives Finduilas her due. I promise the next chapters will be a LOT
longer Please review! Encouragement! I know this is historically
inaccurate, as Finduilas dies when Faramir is around five, but for my story
purposes, she dies when he is seven, so Elentari still remembers her a bit.
I try. I try. I own Ariethel and Elentari and I wish, Faramir, but no. He
belongs to JRR Tolkien, along with everyone else. I will be updating like
crazy, as I am on spring break, so please review!
Chapter 3: Shatter. Shatter into a million pieces.
"Where is Nana???" Elentari and Faramir asked frantically. Finduilas had not been in her room in the morning, nor had she been in the Houses of Healing, which she frequented the last few months, as she had been ill. The Healers had not known what to do with her, as they found nothing wrong with her in body. It seemed to them and to the people that Finduilas merely dwindled away, her spirit and hold on life fading by the day. "She withered in the guarded city as a flower of the seaward vales set upon a barren rock. The shadow in the east filled her with horror, and she turned her eyes ever south to the sea that she missed." Her beloved friend Ariethel's untimely death had pained her deeply and killed her spirit even more. By the winter, with the first snows, even Elentari and Faramir noticed their mother's frailty. They had worried, but Finduilas insisted there was nothing wrong with her.
"Boromir, where's Nana?" Faramir asked.
"I don't know. I'm looking!" Boromir replied frantically. The three of them weaved their way through the City, through the masses of people whispering and pointing, the flag at half-staff. Finally, the four-year-old Elentari saw Finduilas's maid, Valaina, who in turn, saw them, and beckoned them to her. She embraced them and then whispered, "Come with me." She led them up the levels, until they reached Silent Street, and the Houses of the Dead. There, they saw their mother, lying cold and still, her eyes closed for a final time, breathing no breath, with Denethor kneeling by her pyre, embracing the stiff body, sobbing. He had loved her, in his fashion, more than anyone else, save perhaps Boromir.
All three cried out, "Nana!!!" They ran furiously towards her, refusing to believe that she was dead. Denethor ushered them away roughly, for he wanted to grieve for his beloved wife alone, not realizing that he was not the only that had loved gentle Finduilas.
The children stood at a respectful distance, their tears flowing like the river Anduin, shining in the distance, flowing as it always had, oblivious to the sorrow of the heart-wrenched children. They had suffered so much loss, in such little time, at such a young age. Elentari especially, could not understand why. Why did Finduilas have to die? Mother had died already, and now Nana dies. The only mother she had known. Why? What did they do? What did I do? She didn't even say goodbye. Is it because we did something wrong that she didn't want to see us anymore? Maybe I did something wrong. These questions plagued the young girl as her tears rolled silently down her cheeks.
Finally, Denethor stood, and it seemed that he became even grimmer and silent than he originally was, if possible. His expression was set and nothing could stir his pity. If he had to suffer, then everyone else did too. No one could have happiness or bliss when his beloved Finduilas was stolen from him. He walked away, to his tower, where he sat long in thought and mourning.
The children made their way forward slowly and cautiously, twelve- year-old Boromir leading the way. On seeing their beautiful mother, her arms never more opening to them, never more greeting them with a smile in the morning, never more kissing and cradling them, Boromir and Faramir fell into heart-wrenching sobs. Elentari, however, knelt silently, no tear finding its way down her young and pale cheek. Her tears were spent, she could cry no longer. Their mother's maid, Valaina, pitied the children and through her own tears, guided them away from their dearly beloved mother. Elentari became cold and hard like stone, laughter never tracing her lips.
Finduilas was laid to rest a few days later in a customary procession, all three children in attendance. One question lingered in Faramir and Elentari's minds. "How much grief could one's heart take before it would break? Shatter into a million pieces."
Chapter 3: Shatter. Shatter into a million pieces.
"Where is Nana???" Elentari and Faramir asked frantically. Finduilas had not been in her room in the morning, nor had she been in the Houses of Healing, which she frequented the last few months, as she had been ill. The Healers had not known what to do with her, as they found nothing wrong with her in body. It seemed to them and to the people that Finduilas merely dwindled away, her spirit and hold on life fading by the day. "She withered in the guarded city as a flower of the seaward vales set upon a barren rock. The shadow in the east filled her with horror, and she turned her eyes ever south to the sea that she missed." Her beloved friend Ariethel's untimely death had pained her deeply and killed her spirit even more. By the winter, with the first snows, even Elentari and Faramir noticed their mother's frailty. They had worried, but Finduilas insisted there was nothing wrong with her.
"Boromir, where's Nana?" Faramir asked.
"I don't know. I'm looking!" Boromir replied frantically. The three of them weaved their way through the City, through the masses of people whispering and pointing, the flag at half-staff. Finally, the four-year-old Elentari saw Finduilas's maid, Valaina, who in turn, saw them, and beckoned them to her. She embraced them and then whispered, "Come with me." She led them up the levels, until they reached Silent Street, and the Houses of the Dead. There, they saw their mother, lying cold and still, her eyes closed for a final time, breathing no breath, with Denethor kneeling by her pyre, embracing the stiff body, sobbing. He had loved her, in his fashion, more than anyone else, save perhaps Boromir.
All three cried out, "Nana!!!" They ran furiously towards her, refusing to believe that she was dead. Denethor ushered them away roughly, for he wanted to grieve for his beloved wife alone, not realizing that he was not the only that had loved gentle Finduilas.
The children stood at a respectful distance, their tears flowing like the river Anduin, shining in the distance, flowing as it always had, oblivious to the sorrow of the heart-wrenched children. They had suffered so much loss, in such little time, at such a young age. Elentari especially, could not understand why. Why did Finduilas have to die? Mother had died already, and now Nana dies. The only mother she had known. Why? What did they do? What did I do? She didn't even say goodbye. Is it because we did something wrong that she didn't want to see us anymore? Maybe I did something wrong. These questions plagued the young girl as her tears rolled silently down her cheeks.
Finally, Denethor stood, and it seemed that he became even grimmer and silent than he originally was, if possible. His expression was set and nothing could stir his pity. If he had to suffer, then everyone else did too. No one could have happiness or bliss when his beloved Finduilas was stolen from him. He walked away, to his tower, where he sat long in thought and mourning.
The children made their way forward slowly and cautiously, twelve- year-old Boromir leading the way. On seeing their beautiful mother, her arms never more opening to them, never more greeting them with a smile in the morning, never more kissing and cradling them, Boromir and Faramir fell into heart-wrenching sobs. Elentari, however, knelt silently, no tear finding its way down her young and pale cheek. Her tears were spent, she could cry no longer. Their mother's maid, Valaina, pitied the children and through her own tears, guided them away from their dearly beloved mother. Elentari became cold and hard like stone, laughter never tracing her lips.
Finduilas was laid to rest a few days later in a customary procession, all three children in attendance. One question lingered in Faramir and Elentari's minds. "How much grief could one's heart take before it would break? Shatter into a million pieces."