24
The Reunion
The Silmarillion: P. 74: Of the Flight of the Noldor: " -- but Galadriel -- was eager to be gone. No oaths she swore, but the words of Fëanor concerning Middle-earth had kindled in her heart, for she yearned to see the wide unguarded lands and to rule there as a realm at her own will."
The carriage bearing Este, Irmo, Galadriel, Lindaril and Frodo arrived at the Halls of Mandos after traveling along the long, lonely road that wound along the southwestern part of the coast. Irmo had conveyed the time of their arrival to Mandos and he awaited them in his front garden at the main door to the Halls. As Frodo climbed out of the carriage, he remarked how dark and unnerving he found the Halls of Mandos. He was not looking forward to going inside the Halls, but the others had insisted that he accompany them because he was the one who had thought of breaking the Silmaril, and Lindaril desired that he accompany her.
Mandos' garden was mainly a grouping of obelisk-shaped rocks. Large rocks and dark stones of granite had been carefully placed in such a way as to suggest that imposing sentinels were guarding the doors of the mansion. They were very effective. Frodo could not imagine anyone wanting to walk past these rocks. Some of them were highly-polished obelisks, and some were carved into craggy, abstract shapes of eagles sitting alert, with wings folded at their sides and keen eyes ever watchful. They seemed to issue a warning:
"Do not enter here, unless you can go in without guilt and fear."
In between some of the rocks were flowering vines that wound up around them. These vines bore strange flowers of a deep purple, almost black color, and had eyes of bright white. The eyes followed you as you walked up the pathway to the front door. They possessed an unearthly aura that was unnerving.
Mandos welcomed them in his booming voice. "Please come in, my guests," he said, and led them inside. Frodo followed the others with some trepidation. He really wished not to be there, but to be back home on the Isle of Este, where he knew he would feel safe.
"You will be shown immediately to your rooms," said Mandos. "Some refreshment will be brought for those of you who need to eat, and pallets will be laid out for those who need to sleep." He then led them all down a long corridor to their separate rooms.
Lindaril put a sympathetic arm around Frodo. "Never mind, Frodo," she said. "I know that you are not comfortable here, but after you have had some food and rest, I am sure you will feel better. I will stay with you so that you do not feel quite so alone."
Frodo squeezed her hand with gratitude. He was feeling quite apprehensive as they walked through the Halls'majestic corridors. There was a forbidding atmosphere permeating the entire mansion. He would never feel comfortable here because it was a place not for the living.
Frodo's room was pleasant enough, however. Mandos had a tray of food brought for him, on which lay ale, bread, cheese, and even some pipe weed. Frodo knew that if he ate and drank everything on the tray, and then smoked some pipe weed, he should be able to sleep without too much effort. Lindaril stayed with him, as she had promised, and soon he felt the drowsiness of impending sleep overtake him.
The room was very simple, with white draperies on the windows. They softened the starkness of the grey stone walls. The floor was covered in a soft grey carpet, and the pallet on which Frodo was to sleep was very comfortable. There were chairs and lounging chairs all around the perimeter of the room, and it even had shelves stacked with books. A fireplace was opposite the pallet, which had been set upon a metal frame, and in it, a warm fire crackled in the grate. Many sconces adorned the walls, and a small table set with a white cloth held the tray with Frodo's food and drink. After consuming all he could, he slept well that night while Lindaril kept watch over him.
During the night, Galadriel, alone, sought out Mandos to talk to him about Fëanor. "I do believe," she told him, "that the welfare of Valinor should take precedence over the issue of whether or not Fëanor has changed his ways. Despite my past feelings I believe that if he is willing to help us, then he must be permitted to do so. A close watch can be set on him lest he be tempted to exact revenge upon you or me."
They talked at length, and Mandos told her that he had made the decision to resurrect Fëanor after the last time they had spoken. While he was reluctant and did not fully trust Fëanor, Mandos felt that Fëanor would now be on their side against Morgoth.
In the morning Frodo awoke and Lindaril sat with him while he tried to eat some breakfast. She was uncharacteristically quiet, but Frodo was showing more signs of nervousness than he had been the night before.
"I wonder where all of the spirits in this place actually abide?" he asked her even though he knew she would not have the answer. Lindaril was silent. He dropped his head and walked over to the window to look outside.
Before he could get a good look at anything, the door to Frodo's room opened. Mandos stood in the doorway. "If you are ready now, please join the rest of us," he announced. We will be going down to the Resurrection Chamber presently." Frodo and Lindaril joined them, and Mandos led the group through many dark corridors that wound downward until they arrived at a door which was marked with strange runes in a script that Frodo did not recognize. "We have arrived," he added, and from around his neck he took a very large key hanging on an iron chain. He opened the door quietly.
Inside, the room was as dark as a dungeon. Mandos touched the sconces on the wall with a stick of some kind, and the torches held there burst into flame. When the room was lit with an eerily glowing silver light, Frodo saw that the circular room was ringed with benches. In the middle of the chamber stood a structure that looked somewhat like a birdcage, except that this cage was open in the front and had no door or gate. It looked to be made of silver, but it also appeared to be quite sturdy.
"Please be seated," Mandos told the onlookers. "I will be calling the spirit of Fëanor into this room, where he will appear as he was in his old Elvish form. You will be able to converse with him later, but please give him a few moments of quiet to adjust once he appears. You will not be able to hear me say anything to him, but he and I will be communicating before his form takes shape, and then you will be able to see him." Mandos shut his eyes and bowed his head. "I will now remove my curse of old, in which I stated that the Noldor's inventions and all of their art and artifacts must be destroyed. We have new need for Fëanor's Silmarils, to be used as bait and trap for Morgoth, the enemy. Though it be a harsh thing for me to rescind the laws the Valar have set in place, that is what I must do."
Frodo gripped Lindaril's hand tightly. Without knowing it, his nails dug into her flesh, and caused her to flinch. He cast a frightened glance toward her; terror was in his eyes. He did not know what he was about to see, nor did he know what to expect from Fëanor, who was an Elf of legendary fierceness, and had, in the long ago past, committed terrible acts of sabotage and murder, though they were with cause. Frodo looked toward Galadriel for some sign of reassurance, but her face was inscrutable as she stared at the silver cage.
After several minutes had passed, the guests noticed that a fine, black, smoke-like substance had begun to rise from the floor of the birdcage. It slowly filled the cage before it took shape. Everyone sat in anticipation of what they were going to see next. Gradually, the form in the cage increased in clarity until there stood before them a tall, dark Elf.
Fëanor was taller than any of the Elves that were familiar to Frodo. He was slim but muscular, and looked to be very strong. His hair was dark and full, falling to his waist. His countenance was grim and unsmiling. His eyebrows were very dark and almost met in the middle. In his eyes shone the light of the stars although they were dark and piercing. He had no facial hair. His nose was aquiline, his lips thin and set in a firm, straight line. He wore clothing of the military style of long ago, in a red color. His tunic bore many straps and strange-looking buttons, and he wore knee-high brown boots of a suede material, laced and moulded to fit his feet and legs.
"Let me introduce to everyone, Fëanor, son of Finwe the first High King of the Noldor," said Mandos. He walked over to the cage, and supported Fëanor by the elbow as he stepped out into the room. Fëanor bowed low to everyone seated, and they nodded to him. Mandos led him to a seat so that he could rest and better adjust himself to his new surroundings. Fëanor sat and leaned his back against the wall, gave a deep sigh and closed his eyes. He did not speak.
Everyone stared at him. He had an ancient aura about him, an imposing, mesmerizing presence. Frodo looked anxiously at Lindaril for her reaction to seeing one of her own kin suddenly appearing and sitting before her. Her chest was heaving as if she could not catch her breath. Frodo took her hand and held it firmly. She was trembling, and she glanced at Frodo and breathed deeply. Then she jumped to her feet. "Fëanor!" she cried out. Fëanor's eyes opened wide and his dark gaze shot directly toward her. She took a few halting steps forward. "My name is Lindaril. I am your great-granddaughter."
Fëanor stood, and he and Lindaril stared at each other. Despite his imposing presence, Fëanor's aspect seemed to soften as Lindaril's gaze met his. She appeared compassionate and earnest. It looked as if it was a shock for him to see her finally, even though Mandos had made him aware of her existence.
Lindaril saw the softening in him and tentatively approached him. She was of very tiny size next to Fëanor. The top of her head reached only to the middle of his chest, but she embraced him and set her cheek against his bosom. Fëanor raised his arms and embraced her in return, wrapping his huge hands about her waist. Despite his size, she felt his touch was tender.
"You are my only kin," said Lindaril. "My parents and the others, of whom there were only a few, have all passed on. My parents' deaths are unknown but likely to have happened, or they have wandered into unknown regions of Middle-earth. I have no knowledge of their whereabouts. I have lost all track of them. If they lived they may have taken the ship to Valinor, but I have not met any relations here, except for you."
Fëanor said to her in return, "The only thing that was ever most important to me, in my heart, was my family. When my father was murdered by that black, evil devil Morgoth, revenge took over my sanity. Revenge for his death and for the theft of my jewels."
"I know that your son Celegorm was my grandfather," said Lindaril. "He lost his life in pursuit of the Silmarils, after taking the lives of innocents. Yet I doubt not that at one time he was a good person. I know not who my grandmother was."
Mandos stepped forward, cutting short their conversation. "Let us leave any more family history for another time. We of the Valar feel deep sorrow for the necessary evil that we wrought upon the lands. We had to do so in order to capture Morgoth and rid the world of him."
While Mandos was in the process of bringing Fëanor back to life, Manwë had flown to Tol Eressea, to retrieve the Palantir that rested in the Tower of Avallone. Four Palantirs still existed: two in Valinor, one of which was in Manwë's throne room, and one in Tol Eressea. The others, which still remained in Middle-earth, were hidden. The one that had belonged to Denethor, the Steward of Gondor at the end of the Third Age, still resided in the throne room of Minas Tirith and now belonged to Elessar. The other, the one that had belonged to Saruman, was in the keeping of Círdan of the Grey Havens. Although it was forbidden to make contact with Middle-earth since the fall of Morgoth, Manwë had at this time been instructed by Ilúvatar that he could do so. Contact would only be allowed among the four Palantirs, and if it were deemed necessary for someone to travel between the two worlds, then the matter of whom would be allowed to do so would be decided at that time.
Manwë removed the Palantir's cover and grasped the ball between his hands. He stared into its cloudy surface and watched it become clear. In Minas Tirith, Aragorn awoke suddenly, feeling a strange calling. He felt compelled to get up out of bed and go to the throne room, even though it was the middle of the night. He crept quietly out of his bedroom, not wishing to disturb Arwen. She was not sleeping, however, and after he left the room she got up to follow him. They entered the throne room and could see a light coming from the Palantir, pulsating through its covering. Aragorn picked it up and looked into its depths.
Manwë spoke to him, but not through speech. He communicated through the transfer of thought, and spoke to Aragorn of the ill that had befallen Valinor.
"I ask for your help, if you have an idea that would be useful to us."
Aragorn told Manwë of the finding of the Silmaril in Moria and the discovery of the root-people. They communicated at length, and Manwë flew to the Halls of Mandos.
In the Halls, everyone was gathered in the Resurrection Chamber when a gust of wind blew suddenly into the room. It startled everyone and they turned toward it to see that Manwë was standing opposite the door.
"I bring greetings to everyone," he said. "I am sorry to have arrived in such a sudden manner and I hope that I have not startled anyone. I apologize for intruding upon your meeting in this way, Mandos, but I have news which I must relay to you." Manwë swept his robes aside, and sat down. Lindaril, leading Fëanor by the hand, took a seat beside him. Frodo was left by himsElf on the other side of the room, a forlorn figure looking across at them.
Manwë continued speaking. "I bring news from Middle-earth. The Silmaril of Maedhros has been found in some mines there, by an Elf named Legolas, and a Dwarf known as Gimli. They discovered also a new race of people that we did not know previously existed. It was these people who had discovered the Silmaril and hoarded it for many years."
Every person in the room sat wide-eyed with interest. Fëanor jumped to his feet. Manwë continued, "The Silmaril was found by pure accident, and has sadly caused much trouble for Legolas, who transported it from Moria to the Grey Havens."
He looked at Lindaril. "He tried vainly to take it to you. He followed you all the way to Lindon, but you had left well before he arrived. Afterward, he carried it back to Minas Tirith, but found he could not leave it there. He was returning to the Havens in order to bring it to Valinor himself, but in the process a tragedy occurred. Two friends of his were killed, and he almost lost his own life."
Lindaril looked stricken. "I feel terrible for what it has cost him," she said.
"Fortunately, he has recovered and he is well. This is good news for us," Manwë continued. "It means that there are now two Silmarils that we can use in order to fashion more jewels. The people who live in Moria are metal-workers and jewel-smiths, and will begin work on the Silmaril of Middle-earth, while we begin on ours here, if Fëanor will cooperate with us, as he has said that he would."
"How will the Silmarils manufactured in Middle-earth be transported from there to Valinor?" asked Irmo.
"They will be brought here by an emissary who will travel from Valinor to Middle-earth aboard a White Ship, and will return with the new Silmarils by the same method," Manwë replied. "There is only one person who will be permitted to do this. She is the only one who has ever made the trip in both directions before, thus we will ask her to do this again." He turned and smiled at Galadriel.
"Yes, it will be you, Galadriel," pronounced Manwë. "You were granted full pardon long ago for your disobedience of the Valar, and you were permitted to leave Middle-earth to return to Valinor. Now, we shall give you permission once again to leave our shores for Middle-earth to carry out this task that has been appointed to you with your willingness. We know you shall not fail."
Fëanor glared at Galadriel, and all the old memories of his niece flooded back into his mind. He remembered that she had turned against him. He stared back and forth between her and Lindaril. Galadriel was pleased that she had been chosen to undertake the journey. She knew Middle-earth very well. She was a friend of Círdan, the ship-builder of the Grey Havens, and also of Legolas and Gimli. She was Arwen's grandmother. Galadriel was over 10,000 years old, and she had changed much over the long ages of her life. While she had once been as much of a power-seeker as any of the Noldor, she had mellowed over the years since the One Ring had been destroyed. Along with it her power had been diminished..
After being tested by the One Ring, which had been offered to Galadriel by Frodo in Lothlorien, she knew in her heart that she was happiest just to be herself, the 'earth mother' who was always watchful over her children, the people of her realm who trusted her. She was glad to be given this new task that Manwë offered her because she loved Middle-earth and its people, and was grateful to have a part in helping to deal with the new menace from the threat of Morgoth.
After the group had discussed the details of everything that was to be done, and the different roles that they were each to play, they retired to their rooms to rest before departing the Halls. Frodo was feeling drained from all that he had witnessed. He had explained his idea of breaking the Silmarils into smaller pieces. Manwë asked Fëanor if it would be possible to do this, and Fëanor had agreed, and he told them a theory he had about the Silmarils.
"I believe that once the existing Silmarils are melted down, and if more gemstones of different types are added to them to increase their size, that there may still be enough of the light of the trees to burn within the new jewels that will make the new undetectable from the old. The light of the trees was intense enough that the amount of dilution that would occur to form seventy thousand jewels should still not be enough to weaken this light. We shall have to make them first, to see if my idea will work. If it does, then we can make as many jewels as we wish, and we should not be able to tell that the light within them is in any way weaker than the original. If we cannot tell the difference, then Morgoth will not either."
The Valar seemed to be immensely pleased by Fëanor's information. After a few moments, when discussion had ended, the group began to disperse and each returned to his and her own quarters.
Irmo and Este had remained silent through all the proceedings in the Halls, but now approached Mandos, and spoke to him quietly, so that none of the others could hear.
"Brother," said Irmo, "I must make you aware that Este and I both feel that what you and Manwë have decided to do is very wrong. We believe that you go against the policies that we of the Valar had planned with Eru, far back in the history of Ea. We were to be the protectors of the Children of Iluvatar, and especially of the Firstborn. Este and I do not agree with the sacrifice of Fëanor that you have planned with Manwë. You cannot throw Fëanor to Morgoth as if he were distaff to be tossed away so lightly. It is a life I speak of, Mandos, yet he be dead and then resurrected. He once was the greatest of his kind. What you will do is very wrong."
Mandos replied, "Irmo, you must trust Manwë as I do. He is trying to deal with this in the best way possible. You know not what his final plan is to be. But think on this: if you had to make a choice between sacrifice of one, or to lose an entire world, what choice would you make? Do not answer me now, brother. Think upon it, and then give me no answer still, and do not speak to me again of this matter."
The two brothers stared each other in the eyes, and the first one to falter was Irmo, and then, taking Este's arm firmly in his own, Irmo turned away from Mandos, and with Este at his side, left the room.
"Will you be joining me tonight again, Lindaril?" asked Frodo, as he headed toward his room.
"No, Frodo, please go ahead without me. I do not need to sleep, and I shall come to see you later," she said.
Lindaril turned to Fëanor. "Great-grandfather, I do not wish to be parted from you now that I have found you," she said. "Will you be coming back with me to Lorien?"
"No, Lindaril," interrupted Mandos. "I am sorry, but Fëanor does not have a choice in where he is permitted to go. He must remain behind these walls until a contingent can be assembled to make the trip with him to Formenos. Then he must travel there in order to begin working on the Silmaril of Eärendil. He is not allowed to roam about freely in these lands until he is re-oriented in the current ways of Valinor. There have been great changes in the world since he passed away, and he must be given time to become accustomed to them."
Fëanor smoldered at these words. "You judge me, Mandos, yet you do not know my capabilities. Why do you not tell Lindaril the truth, and that is that you are afraid of me? You fear that I may seek revenge once again for the crimes that were committed against me. You punish me still for the oaths that I spoke against you, the Valar. You, who spoke against taking vengeance, seek revenge yoursElves!"
Manwë stepped forward. "We wish only peace for you, Fëanor. Of mind and body. The Valar do not seek revenge. Our wish is to preserve this world, and not allow it to be destroyed by evil. To that end, we ask you only to work with us, to help us in this common purpose."
Lindaril took Fëanor's hands in hers. "Great-grandfather, for my love, which is newly discovered, and which will be yours forever, please put aside any thought of revenge for yoursElf or against you, and help us as you have promised," she pleaded.
Fëanor's heart softened at her words and the look of love for him that glowed upon her face. He stared into her eyes, and he made up his mind.
"Yes, my little one," he said, "I will help."
"May I stay with Fëanor in his quarters tonight?" asked Lindaril, looking back and forth between Mandos and Manwë. "Please. We have only just been united with each other, and I must leave him all too soon tomorrow. Please let me stay with him this one night."
Manwë and Mandos consented, and a room was prepared for them. The two Valar then left them alone. Lindaril, who had been feeling terribly strained, collapsed into Fëanor's arms. "I wish that you could come back with me to Lorien," she cried. "I want us to be together always, from now on."
"Lindaril, please listen to me," said Fëanor. He grasped her by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes with his piercing stare. "Mandos will be taking me to my old fortress of Formenos, where we will make the Silmarils. Then the jewels will be given to Morgoth as a bargaining tool so that the Dark One will leave Valinor in peace. I have agreed to this plan because it is what the Valar wish of me, and because of that they have made me whole again. But, with the last will and strength that I possess, I will never let my precious Silmarils fall into anyone else's hands but my own. With my dying breath yet again I would fight to keep them out of Morgoth's grasp. You are my close kin. Do you understand what I tell you? I care not for the Valar, nor for anything for which they stand."
Lindaril stared back into Fëanor's eyes, in which shone his uncompromising ferocity. She paused. "We are kindred spirits, you and I," she replied at length. "I am of your blood. Are we also of the same mind?"
"What mind is that?" asked Fëanor. "I do not know where you stand. You came here with the others, and then seemed to have a change of heart upon meeting me. You separated yoursElf from them to stand with me. Do I believe that it is how it looks? Is blood then thicker than water? Do you stand with me or with them?"
Lindaril did not falter. She nodded. "I am of your blood," she said again, "and you are of mine."
"Then will you promise me something?" he asked.
"I would do anything that you wish of me," she said.
"Would you come with me to Formenos? Once the Silmarils have been made, I need to find a way to take them away from Valinor, even if it means stealing a ship and going far from this world. I would need you to help me do this."
Lindaril held her breath. "I promise to help you in any way that I can," she said at length. "But the Valar will never let me accompany you to Formenos. I shall have to find my way there by mysElf after you have gone."
Lindaril reflected then upon her gift of a magical singing voice that was able to change the mood of anyone who heard it. She could manipulate people simply by singing to them. She had done this to Legolas in Minas Tirith, by forcing him to act against his will. She knew that he was not attracted to her, but she had led him to her room, and then had made him fall in love with her by singing to him. Later, she had regretted doing what she did, because he had become angry with her upon recovering from the spell, and was wary of her afterwards, and even came to dislike her, which was not at all what she had intended.
Her singing ability also involved another special gift, which she did not, of necessity, usually make known to others. This gift was an ability to sing song-spells, which had only once before in history been a talent possessed by an Elf-maiden; Lúthien Tinúviel, who was part Maia, and who was able to sing songs of spells that, among other things, could put people and other beings to sleep.
Lindaril always kept her own gift a secret, so that, if it became necessary for her to use it, it would be better used as a surprise to the recipient of the spell. Lindaril was aware that she could use the gift to sing a song-spell right at that moment, and everyone in the Halls of Mandos would fall into a deep sleep, from which they would only awaken after several days had passed, unless she herself awoke them with a waking-song. She considered doing this, but knew that it would be possibly a great mistake to reveal her talent at this time. Mandos and Fëanor needed to get to Formenos. If she put them to sleep, she could not transport them to the fortress on her own.
She was troubled by another thought as well. Did the Valar know of her singing ability? She did not think so, because she had remained hidden for so long on Middle-earth that no one had previously been aware of her existence. Before now, she had led a very uneventful life, never using her powers in any overt way. She regarded Fëanor closely. Should she pretend to be without an idea and let him think of a way for her to go to Formenos unnoticed? Would he be suspicious of her if she seemed to be too clever? She sighed, and said nothing. Instinctively, she knew that her special gift should be kept secret for a while yet.
Fëanor appeared deep in thought.
"How far is Formenos from here?" she asked him.
"I do not know," he replied. "I have dwelt too long in these Halls, and I have been told that the geography of the world has changed much since I passed out of it."
Lindaril remembered that Frodo had brought with him one of Bilbo's maps of Valinor. She thought that she could look at it later in order to calculate the distance. "The only way I can think to help you would be for me to go back to Lorien with the others, and then leave from there for Formenos at the first opportunity. I think I would also need to bring Frodo to help me."
"Who is this Frodo?" asked Fëanor. "Is he the small Elf with the curly brown hair who was sitting beside you in the Chamber when Mandos brought me back to life?"
"Yes," Lindaril replied. "He is actually a great hero who comes from Middle-earth. He is not an Elf himself, but he is of a race of people who may be close relatives of Elves. We share the same ears, but his people are normally much shorter in stature than we are. I am an exception, and do not know why, as an Elf, I was born so small. This may interest you, Great-grandfather. Frodo was instrumental in defeating Sauron the Deceiver, the evil Maia who tried to conquer Middle-earth."
"Sauron! I have heard that this Sauron was a servant of Morgoth!" cried Fëanor, his eyes narrowing with hatred. "I hate Morgoth and all of his minions more than I do the Valar!"
"Do you really hate the Valar?" asked Lindaril.
"No, I should not have used that word. Hatred is not exactly what I feel. I have contempt for them, yes, especially for their reluctance to take action. In the past, I had been terribly wronged, and I felt much anger towards them because I had been corrupted by the lies that Morgoth had told me. After I found out the truth, that he had lied to me, I hated Morgoth foremost for the murder of my father, and also because he robbed me of my jewels, including the Silmarils, while I was away. The reason I was not there at the time my father was murdered was because Manwë had commanded me to attend a festival on Taniquetil. I have blamed him ever since for that. If I had been at home, I may have been able to prevent my father's death, and the theft of the Silmarils."
Lindaril looked at Fëanor more closely. In his handsome face, which was twisted by unfathomable emotions, she saw a complicated man of unique ability whom she felt had the power to redeem himself.
"Let me now return to Frodo," she said, rising to her feet. "You and I should not seem to be too close to each other, lest Mandos suspects that we have made a plan together. Look for me in Formenos in thirty days, if I can manage to get there by then. In any case, I will come, I promise you, in not much greater time than that."
Lindaril returned to Frodo's room and saw that he was sleeping. She then went through his belongings very quietly, so as not to disturb him, and found the map of Valinor. Assuming that Bilbo's calculations were accurate, the distance between the Halls of Mandos and Formenos was about five hundred and thirty miles. The distance from the Isle of Este to Formenos was about the same. It meant a walk of at least a fortnight, and that would mean pushing themselves very hard. Lindaril breathed a sigh of relief that she had given Fëanor a fairly reasonable estimate of the time it would take her to reach Formenos. She slipped quietly out of Frodo's room and tiptoed down the corridor. She opened a number of doors until she found Galadriel, sitting in her room, alone. Lindaril stepped through the door and silently glided toward her kinswoman. Galadriel, sensing Lindaril's presence, turned and saw that it was her.
"I have come because I need your help," Lindaril said without any preamble.
Galadriel gazed at her with an inscrutable expression. "I would be glad to help you," she said. "Come and sit with me. We have not had a proper opportunity to speak with each other before now, and I feel that it is important that we do so."
Lindaril joined Galadriel on her settee. "I do not know where to begin," she said. Then, feeling overwhelmed, she burst into tears. Galadriel put her arms around Lindaril's shoulders and held her closely.
"Let me tell you a story," said the older Elf. "Many, many years ago, a young Elf-maiden left her home where she was secure and much loved by her family, and placed her trust in others of her kin, and started on a perilous journey with them. Burning within her was a desire to travel afar and establish her own realm, and the desire was of such power that it enabled her to endure many hardships while on this journey. Some of the terrible things that she witnessed on the travels changed her forever, but she changed for the better. It gave her a clearer understanding of others, and of the meaning of the consequences of one's actions. She possessed the gift of foresight, which became stronger over time. More important than the foresight, however, was the knowledge of when to use it, and when to let it lie and allow others to fulfill their own destinies, and let events occur naturally. Do you understand what I am telling you, Lindaril?"
The younger Elf raised her head from Galadriel's shoulder. Her tear-stained face showed much weariness and confusion. "I do not understand you at all," she said. "Only that perhaps you were telling me your own story. But you and I come from different places. We are worlds apart. Your journey was made with others. Mine was made alone with only myself for company and protection."
"I did not have protection from the others," said Galadriel. "Some of what I witnessed was the slaying of my kin by my own kin. I did not wish to be a part of that betrayal which horrified me, and so I felt terribly alone whilst in the company of many. Together we crossed a treacherous terrain of ice that claimed the lives of scores of my people. Never had I felt so alone and in such danger. Yet I survived, as did many others, and lived a happy, fulfilling life afterward, despite my horrific memories."
"Still, it was not the aloneness of knowing that you are the only member of your species in a frightening place, where you are surrounded by creatures and evil people who are trying to kill you, while you try to remain unnoticed when things are crashing down all around you," Lindaril replied.
"We have each had our own terrible trials to endure while we were young," said Galadriel. "We do have that in common. Perhaps the manner in which we deal with the rest of our lives will also be a common thing between us, and yet, perhaps not."
"We are kin, are we not?" asked Lindaril.
"Yes, we are kin," replied Galadriel. "Fëanor and my father, Finarfin, were half-brothers. Fëanor and I grew up knowing each other, although we were never very close. We were of different spirits and we did not get along very well. He actually sought my friendship and I rejected him. If I had known then what I do now, I would not have done that. I would have tried to strengthen his ability to have insight into his actions, and I would have tried to show him that there are other things in life for which to strive rather than the possession of power and of objects. Things may have turned out differently for him." Galadriel sighed. "What did you wish me to help you with, Lindaril?"
Lindaril paused, her thoughts conflicted. Originally, she had come to ask for Galadriel's help in getting to Formenos, thinking that since Galadriel and Fëanor were kin, that the elder Elf would help them out of familial loyalty. However, now that Lindaril had heard the story of the history of the uncle and niece, she thought that Galadriel would never agree to help her. She quickly cast around in her mind for another plausible reason for enlisting Galadriel's help.
"When you arrive on Middle-earth," said Lindaril, "will you be going to see Legolas, who has the Silmaril in his possession?"
Galadriel was puzzled. "Yes, of course I will see him," she said.
"Would you give him a message from me?" asked Lindaril.
"Yes, certainly, although I did not know that you were close to him."
Lindaril hesitated. She did not know what to say. Galadriel waited, looking at Lindaril with much interest.
"Would you - would you - please tell him that I am thinking about him, and that I - I - am sorry for everything?"
"Lindaril," said Galadriel, "I will give Legolas your message, but I have some advice for you. If I were you, I would turn my full attention to Frodo and give him the care and friendship that he deserves. I think that you will be the happier for it."
Lindaril regarded Galadriel thoughtfully. "Thank you for your advice, my lady, and for the talk that we have had. You have given me much to think about," she said.
The next day the group left the Halls of Mandos, except for Fëanor, who stayed behind under the watch of Mandos and Manwë. The Valar did not yet fully trust him. No acts of revenge would ever again be permitted to take place on Valinor, and they thought that it was possible Fëanor might still be harboring feelings of vengeance below the surface of his awareness that even he may not have realized. Therefore he needed to be carefully watched.
Lindaril felt that the separation between herself and Fëanor was very hard, to come on the heels of their first meeting. Now that she had found her great-grandfather, she did not wish to be parted from him so soon. The memories of her profound loneliness flooded back to her. She had felt a strong familial bond between Fëanor and herself. Frodo tried to comfort her, but he could not console her. Ever so slightly, she was beginning to distance herself from him.
Galadriel returned to Este and Irmo's home with the others, and shortly afterward she departed from Lorien for the Isle of Tol Eressëa. From that outpost, she returned by White Ship to Middle-earth and the Grey Havens. From the Grey Havens, she planned to journey to Moria, where Legolas and Gimli continued with their restoration, completely unaware of her impending arrival.
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