Finrod and Amarie muff their chance to make up. An accident exposes Finrod's vulnerability to all.
9. Poppy Milk
It is official, sad as I am to record this for all posterity in my journal. My noble cousin Finrod is a fool when it comes to matters of the heart.
"Amarie, what brings you here?" Finrod struggled to compose himself. "The climate here can be harsh. You should be in Valmar, with your parents…"
"Where is my place, if not with you?" Amarie retorted. "Findarato, know this – although we have yet to bind ourselves before Eru Iluvatar, I see myself as your spouse. It was a mistake asking Mornel to return my betrothal ring on my behalf."
"Alas, I- I have lost it back in Lorien – there is no further use of it," Finrod lied and glanced away, trying to ignore the small weight around his neck. Why had he not taken it out to show her? Or better yet, slip it upon her finger as he had done all those yeni ago?
A stricken look passed over Amarie's face, followed by a flash of understanding.
"Findarato, will you deign to look at me, speak with me? Tell me please. I know you are hiding something from us, a burden upon the soul. Please let me share your burden… I am not some frail flower. I was once your betrothed and I would gladly be again and more!"
"Nay, my lady. I will not burden another…" Finrod shook his head.
"So there is still no hope for me then?" Amarie laughed bitterly. "All this time I had hoped, waited all for naught!" Finrod felt a stab of guilt at her words.
"I am sorry…" he added as Amarie strode out of the room with a swirl of her skirts, just as Mornel came in with a jug of spiced cider. What did you do now, Finrod? Her eyes berated her cousin as she put down the jug and went after Amarie.
Mornel caught up with Amarie in the hallway outside the healing ward where Amarie had dissolved in a flood of tears. Mornel gave a weary sigh and waved away a curious apprentice healer who had poked her nose out of the ward at the commotion. The residents of Formenos were stoic by nature and tearful outbursts were rare. Perhaps a good night's rest would ease Amarie.
"Milady, does the patient require more poppy tea for her arm?" the apprentice asked helpfully in Quenya. Mornel shook her head.
"Not now, we will send for it later if need be," Mornel replied. Poppy gave relief to pain but some elves could develop a dependency on the drug. Mornel trusted her healers to prescribe the tea and more potent tincture both with discretion and in moderation.
"Lady Mornel, could I have a word with you please?" a senior healer popped his head out of the door.
"Could you speak now?" Mornel asked. She wanted to spend the next few hours consoling Amarie in her room. The healer coughed uncomfortably and glanced at Amarie, who was still hiccupping from having cried so hard.
"It's your cousin, Prince Findarato… He has been asking tincture of poppy from the apprentices for his leg, a little too often. Yet he refused to allow me to examine it…"
This was disturbing news to Mornel. How could she have missed it? There were other uses for poppy besides pain relief. Was Finrod suffering from bad dreams? Some elves used the milder tea to aid them in seeking reverie. Still, to be over-reliant on poppy was not a good thing. Never mind Finrod for now, she would deal with him later.
In his own chamber, Finrod took out the vial of poppy milk he had coaxed from one of the new apprentices. In the day, there were plenty of distractions. In the depths of night, there was nothing to take his mind off Tol-in-Gaurhoth and his time there. As the nights lengthened, the memories came with a vengeance. Carefully, he measured out the dose needed to send him into a dreamless oblivion. In Lorien, Lady Este's Maia helpers were constantly by his bedside to soothe him. Outside Lorien, he was alone with his nightmares.
Mornel was no fool but she was distracted by the myriad tasks of running a sprawling town like Formenos and its often volatile inhabitants. He could hide his need for poppy from her, for now. He had not expected Amarie to come here to him. Amarie. He had hurt her again with his cruel words… But it's better to leave her with the image of her golden prince than to…
He mixed the dose with warm milk and honey to mask the taste and downed it. Drowsily, he crawled under the quilt and drifted off into a drugged sleep. With luck, the werewolves would not come stalking into his dreams tonight.
"I know he is hurting inside but he would not share his burdens with me," Amarie whispered over the posset of mulled wine she was nursing. "I would rather he had fallen for another than not to trust me enough not to share with me…"
Mornel nodded. She had thought her cousin healed when he showed so much interest in the activities of Formenos but in light of the healer's revelation about the poppy, it could only be a mask to hide his wounds. He had given her sound advice about running a city. However, who knew what nightmares from Beleriand haunted him still when he was alone? Were all the fear to be released from Mandos in a similar state? Or was this due to her cousin being released too soon? Olorin promised to visit over the winter. Perhaps she could ask him then.
Morning brought its own problems for Mornel even before breakfast. A party of bison-hunters had met with mishap and spent the better part of the night carting their wounded to Formenos. Tying back her hair in a crude ponytail, donning her robe and slipping on fur-lined slippers, Mornel hurried down to the open courtyard to break up a fistfight between the chief hunter and the father of one of the wounded. It was late in the year for such a hunt. The risk was magnified by the presence of young in the herd and new, inexperienced hunters. Mistakes were made and a stampede was triggered off. Several elves were caught up in it. Fortunately, no one had died, yet. The bison hunt was a coming-of-age ritual for some Avari in the east. The bison were far more dangerous than boar or even bear. Such Avari kept large wolf-like hounds to aid them in the hunt. The fight had stirred the pack into frenzied howls and snarls, keeping the healers from approaching the wounded.
"Break it up!" Mornel yelled and gave a shrill whistle to call for order. The hounds ignored her and were busy snapping at each other, spurred on by their masters' quarrel. Someone threw a punch and the hunters were now fighting among themselves. Swearing in Sindarin, Mornel grabbed a heavy cudgel and waded into the thick of the mass of wolfhounds and elves to restore order.
He had gotten the dose wrong, Finrod thought. He could see the red eyes glowing in the shadows of the dungeon like embers. He tried to move but could not. He was weighed down by unseen chains. He could not see beyond the red eyes, if there were any of his fellow captives with him. Was he alone? He shuddered. The howling and snarling were getting louder now. Next came the screams…
Finrod snapped into wakefulness, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Yet the howling continued. He had not escaped Sauron after all. He was trapped in his nightmare, no – He had never died, entered Mandos nor been reborn into Aman. It was all a trick of Sauron to torment him further. The fallen Maia had toyed with the captives endlessly – offering them glimpses of hope only to crush it into the dirt as they watched. How Sauron had conjured before him images of his parents, his siblings or his beloved…
The howling continued and it sounded so near. In a blind panic, Finrod ran from his room clad only in his nightshirt.
"My love, what's wrong?" Amarie cried out as a wild-eyed Finrod fled past her. He had to get out even if he knew in his heart escape from Sauron's sorcery was impossible. He ran past more startled elves and out of the door to be greeted by a seething mass of fur, fangs, and bloodied elves. He screamed and fell to his knees.
"Finrod?" Mornel paused as she smacked an over-excited hound lightly with her cudgel to get him off a hunter. The startled hounds froze at his scream, as did their masters. Amarie threw her uninjured arm around Finrod, trying to soothe him with her touch and words. Finrod clung to her, unseeing and trembling like a leaf in a gale. Mornel barked orders to the healers and hunters to have the hounds rounded up and the injured moved to the healing ward. They had to see to broken bones, concussions, and now fresh bites and scratches inflicted by over-excited hounds in the scuffle. One snowy white wolfhound padded away from the pack as the uninjured hunters rounded them up. It loped over to Finrod and Amarie and cocked its head curiously.
Finrod did not see a curious hound peering at him. What he saw was a large wolf, ready to pounce upon him and tear out his throat. Amarie. He pushed his beloved behind him. The hound only yawned and wagged its tail lazily.
"Snowdrop! Here, girl!" The hound turned and padded off at a leisurely pace to her waiting master. Mornel patted the hound as she passed it in approaching her cousin. Her sleeve had been ripped when one hound bit into it during the melee. The pack was now under control and the healers were skilled enough to treat the wounded without her supervision.
"Finrod, are you well?" Mornel asked. Finrod slumped against Amarie as the tension left him. Amarie's betrothal ring lay exposed on its thong around his neck and Amarie was weeping softly into his hair. Her cousin seemed confused, possibly still in the throes of the poppy milk or his nightmares. "Would you like me to send for Aunt Findis or your Amme?"
Finrod slowly shook his head. Now he had really muffed it for everyone. Amarie knew now how broken he was, and how he had lied to her about the ring. Mornel checked his pupils, no doubt looking for signs of any lingering effects of the poppy. The adrenaline gone, he had to be helped to his feet.
"Please, tell me this is not some sorcery of Sauron's…" Finrod murmured as if to himself. "Not a nightmare…"
"It is not, cousin. You have been released from Mandos and came to visit Formenos. Amarie is also here," Mornel soothed. "You are safe in Aman, and Amarie still loves you." Amarie re-affirmed this statement by nodding her head vigorously and patting Finrod's hand.
"Sauron's wolves… the blood…" Finrod protested as the nissi sat him down in a chair in the chief healer's office. The chief healer would be asked to see to his leg and judge if it had healed completely as Mornel believed.
"Those were not Sauron's wolves but Avarin wolfhounds bred for bison-hunting. There was an accident on the high plains towards the west of Formenos. A group of hunters were caught up in a stampede and they brought their wounded here to be treated," Mornel explained as the chief healer felt and prodded her cousin's leg. With a grunt, the healer pronounced it fully mended and should not cause the patient any further problems.
"What of Sauron's wolves, cousin? What memories from Beleriand linger still such that you need such the aid of poppy to find sleep?" Mornel coaxed.
"I-I do not wish to speak of it…" Finrod looked away. Mornel did not press him further but called for one of the bison-hunters. A short conversation later, the hunter left and returned with Snowdrop. Finrod's eyes widened when he saw the wolfhound and his breath hitched. He gripped the armrests tightly. Not a wolf… he chided himself as the hound cocked her head with her pink tongue lolling. Mornel felt the hound's belly. The hunter was right. Snowdrop was carrying pups – pups he had promised to her for treating his wounded kin and as apology for the morning's commotion.
"She's in no state for hunting. The pups are close," Mornel chided the shamefaced hunter. "We can expect them within the week, if not sooner."
Amarie shyly offered her hand for Snowdrop to sniff at before rewarding the hound with a scratch behind the ears. The hounds in Valmar were sleeker and smaller in built than Snowdrop. Snowdrop licked her hand, causing Amarie to giggle at the sensation. The hound padded the short distance over to Finrod and plonked herself down at his feet with a yawn. The prince went rigid at the nearness of the large wolfhound. The chief hunter shook his head.
"Snowdrop thinks your guest needs protecting. From what in your house I do not know. She's a wise lady. Sees into the heart, she does. Tell you what, I will leave Snowdrop with you and come back for one of her pups when they are old enough."
"Is this some ploy to saddle me with a bitch too old for the hunt?" Mornel teased. The chief hunter only laughed. Amarie had knelt down beside the outstretched hound and was stroking her flank. The bulging of her belly was more obvious now. Finrod had relaxed his grip on the armrests a little and was studying the hound at his feet. Perhaps she reminded him of other hunting hounds he had known.
Author's Notes:
Some PTSD flashbacks from Finrod. Don't worry, Mornel will get him off that poppy-milk reliance.