Finrod still has issues regarding his defeat by Sauron. His attempt to use his musical talent to help backfires when he suffers a flashback.

12. Songs of Healing

Snowdrop's puppies grew stronger as winter wore on. Their eyes opened and they started taking in the world about them. Their mother also rallied and was soon able to leave Finrod's room for short spells to get away from her raucous brood. Finrod soldiered on with his annals of the First Age in Beleriand. Amarie continued to feed the puppies even as the frequency of the feeds decreased. In addition, she took on the task of bringing Finrod his meals when he was caught up in his work. She provided a sympathetic ear as Mornel had done for him in Lorien when the memories of his first life became too much. His little cousin had far too much she needed to see to as Formenos' lady. There were endless plans to be made, letters to be written, and council meetings to attend. Dinners were occasions to meet guild leaders, advisors, and visitors.

"They were burnt alive… I felt it, here," Finrod murmured as he rested a hand on his brow. Amarie nodded. He had just finished recording the terrible battle in which he had lost his brothers. "They are still in Mandos…"

"I trust in Eru Iluvatar's mercy and that they will one day be restored to us…" Amarie reassured her beloved. The silver ring gleamed on her finger where she stroked his hand. On Finrod's finger was a plain iron band, a replica of that which Amarie had given him when they first pledged their troth so long ago. When Mornel had learnt that her cousin and friend were back together, she insisted on having a betrothal ring forged for her cousin to replace the one lost in Beleriand. Amarie also picked up a smattering of Sindarin from her conversations with Finrod.

It was a healing process, forcing him to relive and confront his fears before talking them through with Amarie if they became too much. Snowdrop would crawl into his bed if the nightmares came and he no longer protested her presence there. The wolfhound no longer reminded him of the werewolves.

"Will you sing for the Yule Fest, Findarato?" Amarie asked. Finrod froze. He had often sung at fests in Tirion and Beleriand. However, after his rebirth, he had yet to sing or lay hands on a harp.

"A-Alas, I fear I am not ready…" Finrod admitted. "I have not sung or strummed a harp since…" he paused. He could not tell Amarie the horrors he experienced during his captivity. "I fear I no longer have the heart or strength to sing or play as I once did."

"It's a real pity," Amarie caught the hesitance in his voice but did not press him further. The Findarato she knew from before the Darkening enjoyed music and always had a hand harp with him. Of all the Finwians in those days of peace, it was claimed his skill and love of the harp was only second to Makalaure Feanarion. Not to sing or play was unlike him, but she had to be patient with him. Mornel was an excellent musician. Serelinde and Arafinwe had taught her well enough. It was unfortunate many elders in Tirion's Academy of Music still recalled the genius that was her brother and deemed her skills a pale shadow of his.

It had been several cycles of the sun since Formenos had been rebuilt. Arafinwe had recommended his niece to the Academy of Music in a misguided attempt to keep her in Tirion more often at his mother's urging. Mornel had sung before the selection panel to the accompaniment of her harp. Amarie was there as the selections were held in the courtyard and open to the citizenry.

"Satisfactory, but nowhere close to Makalaure in skill…" the panel announced after conferring for a few minutes. The colour had fled from Mornel's pale face at those words. Lady Indis was a trustee of the Academy and that was probably why a letter of acceptance was sent to Mornel at the palace. Mornel declined to further her music studies at Tirion's Academy. Perhaps there was a tinge of her father's pride in her. There was no way she was joining the Academy just because her uncle was the king and his mother on the board of trustees.

It was probably for the best. Mornel's music was not the solemn hymns to the Valar or the sweeping epics favoured by the Academy. Prior to the Darkening, her brother had even resigned his post at the Academy in protest of the increasing Vanyarization of the curriculum. Mornel's music was more spontaneous, speaking of the wind and waves like Telerin ballads. Some claimed her music had a healing quality to it.

In a way, Mornel had her ghosts too – her absent father and brothers. There were still the shut-away rooms in Formenos, waiting for their return. Helwien and Nerdanel had both thrown themselves into their respective crafts. Whispers from distant Alqualonde claimed that Serelinde was seen in close company with Prince Earlindo, far closer than proper for a married nis. Amarie did not think she was capable of moving on thus should she be wed to Findarato and he were to leave her behind.

Nothing more was spoken of Finrod singing.

On the day of the Yule Fest, the peace of Formenos was rudely shattered. Finrod and Amarie were playing with Snowdrop's puppies in his room when a terrible boom rattled the shingles and shook the walls. The puppies had started to leave their basket to explore their surroundings. They gave fearful yips and clambered for the safety of their basket or Amarie's skirts. Finrod held an alarmed Amarie close. There was the distinct smell of burning in the air and shouts coming from below.

"We better go see," Finrod said. Something bad had definitely occurred. Amarie nodded. "I'm coming with you." Snowdrop gently nudged the last of her puppies into the basket where they would be safe before following the two elves downstairs to the courtyard.

The burning smell became more intense as they stepped out into the courtyard. An elaborate stage had been set up there in preparation for the Yule Fest. It was traditional for plays to be held during the Yule Fest in Tirion in guildhalls, academies, and noble houses. The guilds and academies would vie for the honour of performing before the royal family. The honour more often than not fell to the Academy of Music or the Theatre Guild. It would seem that the tradition had endured in Formenos. Lacking a theatre or college of music, the chosen troop of performers this year was a mix of blacksmiths, carpenters, and jewellers. Last year, the honour of the play had gone to an Avarin troop who impressed the audience with their expressive interpretation of the Awakening with minimal props.

The play this year called for complicated sets and ambitious props. It was touted as an original play, not a retelling of an existing history. One of the highlights this year was to be a machine which would shower the audience with small trinkets at the finale. Something had gone horrifically wrong after a successful trial run the previous day. The stage was aflame and elves were lying moaning on the ground. Uninjured elves were desperately trying to quench the fire before it spread to the surrounding structures. Acrid smoke filled Finrod's nostrils, making him choke. Amarie coughed beside him. Elves from all over the keep were hastening to help where they could.

Mornel gave orders for more buckets of water and stretchers to be brought for the injured. A few elves had been seriously burnt by the steam which powered the machine or wounded by the flying shrapnel caused by the explosion. Helwien and several nissi were pouring cold water on some of the prone elves to ease the pain of their burns. One luckless elf had his arm sliced off at the elbow by a piece of razor-sharp metal and Tatie was tying a tourniquet on it before he bled out.

"Mornel, you are hurt!" Amarie exclaimed. A streak of blood trickled down Mornel's cheek.

"Tis only a flesh wound," Mornel shrugged it off and wiped blood from her brow. Finrod noted a spreading crimson patch on her sleeve.

"No, cousin, you are injured too. Rest now…" Finrod gently took Mornel's uninjured arm, noticing how she was swaying slightly. Mornel had been in the courtyard when the explosion occurred. She probably had a concussion from the blow to her head. A piece of shrapnel had gone clean between the bones of her forearm, severing a major vessel in the process. No one else had noticed Mornel was leaving splatters of blood in her wake as she directed the rescuers.

"No… I must make sure the…" Mornel murmured as the blood loss and concussion finally caught up to her. She blacked out. Finrod caught her before she hit the ground.

Mornel awoke in the healing ward with Helwien by her bedside. The wounded elves were moaning in agony where they lay in their cots. It was a mercy no one had been killed or died from their wounds yet. Finrod and Amarie were going from cot to cot as they assisted the healers.

"You were out for two days. The Yule festivities were cancelled… Why has there been no aid from the Maiar?" Finrod said as he sponged the fevered brow of a young patient with extensive burns. Back in the days before the Darkening, life-threatening injuries were rare as they were often dealt with by Irmo's or Este's Maiar. It would seem that such Maiar hung around unseen in the wilds and Elven cities, appearing to offer aid when the occasion arose. Infected wounds were unheard of. Even broken skulls and necks were almost instantly healed, before the fea had a chance to part with the hroa. Findekano had earned himself the title of "the Valiant" thanks to a foolhardy dare plunging off a cliff to retrieve his baby sister's doll with only a crude vine rope about his ankles. The rope snapped and a Maia directed a Great Eagle to rescue him from becoming the first ever Aman-born elf to report to Mandos. On hindsight, they should have called him a fool.

"Things have changed since the Darkening. We have to move all gravely wounded elves to Lorien for healing if our healers cannot save them," Helwien explained sadly. The air was filled with the sweet scent of athelas but the healers' supplies were already low. The injured elves fretted from the pain of their wounds.

"Then do it," Mornel stated as she sat up. "Or send word to Lorien for their aid…"

"We can't. There is a blizzard outside from the Pelori. We sent off a bird yesterday before the storm but goodness knows if it made it," Tatie announced as she shook snow off her cloak. She had gone out to check the weather conditions to see if they could send the most seriously wounded to Lorien.

"Easy on the poppy…" Mornel warned. Any miscalculation of the strong poppy tincture and liquor used in such conditions to ease the suffering of the burn patients could easily send them to Mandos' door. One elf had been badly burnt in the face and had his eyes scabbed shut. Another was nursing an arm which ended at the elbow. Those two were definitely going to Lorien if they wished to regain their sight and limb. One burn patient's entire back was a raw weeping wound. He screamed when the healers tried to clean it.

"Helwien, pass me my harp…" Mornel called out. There was one way to ease the suffering of her people. She had learned some Songs of Healing under Serelinde's tutelage. Helwien nodded and hurried off to fetch the harp from Mornel's room.

"But your arm…" Amarie protested. "You will tear the stitches."

"They may yet hold. Even if they don't, it will be a small price..." Mornel smiled grimly. Helwien returned with the hand harp and passed it to her. Mornel tentatively strummed a chord and winced as pain shot through her arm. There was no way she could play with her injury.

"No, allow me," Finrod insisted. He kissed Mornel on the brow as she protested and took the instrument from her. He sat down in the chair Helwien had vacated and started playing. A calming melody was coaxed from the harp strings by Finrod's skilled fingers. The wounded quieted their moans.

Finrod closed his eyes, losing himself in the melody. He sang of the Trees and the Light that was lost. He sang of the white city of Tirion and the pearly sands of Alqualonde. His audience were spellbound by his music. No one noticed when the melody twisted. The joy and light faded. Even the lit braziers seemed to die. Ice seemed to form at the windows. Finrod was being carried away by the music's power. Nothing could remain as it was. He was no longer the naïve prince who had followed his uncles from Tirion. The elves whimpered with unease as the music darkened. Snowdrop whimpered and nudged Mornel with her nose.

"Finrod, snap out of it," Mornel finally noted the change in the song. Finrod's eyes were closed, his brow deeply furrowed as if in distress. Yet he still played.

"Cousin, awake!" The song had taken on an almost ominous note. Amarie was weeping, her soft sensibilities affected by the melancholic tune.

Her cousin was too lost in the music's soul to hear her words. Mornel knew she had to guide him out of it. When Finrod sang of the darkness of night, she sang of the stars and Varda's ribbons of light. She sang of the kindness of her uncle Ara and the waves washing on pearly shores. She sang of the last flower and fruit of the Trees, the soft moonbeams on the Pelori's snowy peaks and the sunbeams dancing on the sea. Finrod's voice faltered but his fingers continued plucking on the strings. Mornel continued singing. She sang of the flowers which bloomed in the hidden forest glades and dancing on the lakeside by firelight.

The mood lightened and the patients drifted off into restful visions filled with light and hope. Only Finrod remained entrapped by the remnants of the shadow coiled about his fea, Mornel could not reach him but Amarie could. Amarie sang timidly at first, but steadily grew in both confidence and strength. She sang softly of love as she slid her arms around Finrod from behind in a loving embrace, her golden hair mingling with his. She sang of the promises of a family of their own and a villa among orange trees. Tears ran down Finrod's cheeks as he ceased playing. He allowed Amarie to take the harp from him. The spell was broken.

"What was that about?" Helwien demanded.

"A dark echo of his first life which needs purging…" Olorin interjected from where he stood by the door. No one had noticed his entrance. "The Lord and Lady of Lorien received a missive from here – I see you require the aid of my colleagues…" Immediately, white-clad Maiar were in the spacious ward, ready to treat the most seriously wounded. The blinded and maimed would need to go to Lorien for further healing once the roads were open.

"M-master Olorin," Finrod gasped in exhaustion. The struggle with the music had taken much out of him. "Will I ever be free of Sauron's shadow?"

"My prince, I would suggest you seek the advice of a master in the Songs of Power. Your little cousin here has some talent but little experience in their use. May we suggest Lady Serelinde and your uncle Earlindo?" Olorin nodded sagely. It was a pity Aule's most skilled Maia had been seduced by Moringotto. "Moreover, having returned from Mandos himself, Prince Earlindo should be able to aid you in these early days."

Author's Notes:

It was lucky Mornel and Amarie managed to pull Finrod out of his flashback. Sauron's darkness has a long reach.