Chapter Eight
Family Backgrounds, Web of Magic Secrets and Mysteries the Start of Something Perilous
The day passed quietly, alright, compared what came next.
Breathing fearfully, Vanimelda told herself, she should not fear- whose daughter was she? Or had she forgotten? Her father and her mother both faced Sauron and did not even think to shrink. Imagine that- their only daughter!
Shameful.
Vanimelda knew that if she did survive this, she had to flee Sapzôr. Light or no, her time was up. She didn't need her mother or Almarië to tell her that. Sapzôr had no interest in keeping her alive. She wanted her dead- sucked dry of her youth and beauty. And Sapzôr herself was evil.
No, she did not feel easy at all.
By this time, Vanimelda realised she had stumbled into a cave- or rather, a large cavern. It was dark and moist, yet what little light she saw was reflected by the green-blue waters of the river, next to her, that strangely did not rush very fast, but lay still as glass. She could see well enough- she was an elf, after all. But then…
Then things began to get funny.
No, 'funny', wasn't the right word by at all. Perhaps strange, would better suffice.
She started to see images, flashing before her eyes. Things she was certain was not there in reality.
But then the images- that disappeared before she could comprehend them- vanished entirely, and she came face to face with a mirror.
It was a large mirror, made of glistening, swirling silvery glass, like water. It had a frame of sandstone engraved with glyphs and images of birds inlaid in gold.
The mirror was certainly strange.
The glass was more liquid than anything, and yet it seemed like neither liquid nor gas. The grey-silver swirled about and swished gently, confusing her.
"Your grandfather looked into this mirror."
She almost jumped when she heard the voice.
It was a female voice, cool and clear. "Where are you?" She whispered, certain the person could hear her.
"It doesn't matter where I am. I am where I should be. The question is, should you look into this mirror? You will find what you want and what you do not want, little Princess. For there is always a price."
She turned wildly around.
The voice laughed, like tinkling silver bells. "Oh, you can't do that. You can't succeed by doing that. Why are you so afraid? The Heavens have written a destiny for you, Elenñaltë Vanimelda Ereinioniel of the House of Finwë and Olwë. I doubt sending your fëa to the Halls of Mandos would be part of the plan.
"When your grandfather looked into this mirror- he saw his heart's desire. I'm sure you know which grandfather. Maedhros the Tall or Nelyafinwë Maitimo Fëanárion. He was the firstborn of the firstborn son of Finwë, king of the Noldor. The eldest and handsomest of seven great and mighty sons." The voice laughed. "And being the eldest he was the one most depended and beloved by his younger brothers- the one they relied on the most. The one that was always there for them- he raised them, loved them, nurtured them, and was exceptionally comely, even for an elf. He had all he could want. Yet his heart was empty. Several maidens sought him, and yet, nothing ever turned out the way he would have wished. So one day, a Maia gave him a gift. He looked into this very mirror, and saw his heart's desire." The voice grew whispery, almost harsh with excitement. "The Telerin Princess. Oh, she was the most beautiful creature. Even I admit it must be true, the most beautiful creature in Eä. All shimmering and glowing silver and whiter than snow, a most impossibly beautiful maiden, shining and shimmering- she would put Valier to shame! Blasphemy, you'd say, and so would she! They say Lúthien her kinswoman was the most beautiful, but no one had ever heard her name in comparison- nor seen her face! But then again, your grandfather did not have the best reputation, did he?
"He could have slayed dragons. He could have fought valiantly against Morgoth, like his uncle. He could have done this and that. He could have been the greatest hero the elves had. He was honourable, he kept his word, and thought not of himself. Yet, because of one oath… Everything was ruined, and the world's view of him was ruined. And he ruined her, by marrying her. And your mother. It took his own child your mother, to prove that not all Fëanorians were like that," She laughed. "Oh, I know who you are, daughter of Gil-Galad and Estela."
Unlike what Sapzôr made her feel, now Vanimelda felt truly exposed as well as threatened.
"The beautiful, silver and dark granddaughter of the Lindar Princess. How could I not have guessed? Queen Estela's daughter- of course! You've inherited the family looks, I see a lot of things. But pray tell me, why did you end up in the clutches of Sapzôr the Vile? Being beautiful means that you are in greater danger anywhere near her."
She took a deep breath. She felt Almarië stir in her pocket. Tell the truth, she seemed to say.
"I… wanted to get some light for my foster-parents," she said, her voice seemingly dry. "They need it…"
"Ah yes," the voice sounded disapproving. "The 'foster-parents' who killed your guardian, enslaved and beat you and forced you to wear filth. You still care for them? I can't believe it."
"It's the right thing to do," she said. "My, my, you are your father's daughter, and your mother's no doubt. Are you still interested, little Princess? Do you wish to look in the mirror and find the answers to all your problems? Or do you take the long way?"
She did not trust this person, so she simply produced the necklace of pearls.
"Ah, a fair gift, indeed. Tell me, Princess, do you give this to a queen?"
"That was what she instructed me," she managed to breathe.
Out of nowhere, a series of lamps, hanging from the cavern ceiling clear of stalactites, lit themselves. It led to an opening, like a corridor.
"Come," the voice beckoned. She pushed back her fear. She had no choice.
Slowly, her feet brought her through the corridor. And then she froze.
There, instead of darkness was great, golden light, shining in a great, golden hall, similar to her father's throne room in structure, except that it was barely fashioned and altered by artifice, and most of the glittering quality came from crystals of different colours, half-cut out of the rock, which had been polished and covered with gold filigree it seemed, or vermeil.
A grand high platform stood at the other end of the hall, and between it, countless elves danced. They were Avari, she realised. Elves that shunned sunlight and all natural light except for starlight.
Which would explain why they were so pale. No pale was too mild a word to describe them. They were elves that shunned sunlight as their enemy. Their focus, her mother had taught her, was on survival and being kept hidden. So naturally, the sun's light would expose them. The typical Avarin day, she had been told, started at sunset.
Yet these people couldn't care less about survival, or being hidden at the moment. They were laughing and dancing, playing on musical instruments that would drive a mortal to madness if he or she were to hear it. The Eldar had been instructed to be much more careful, in such acts. But the Avari here, did not seem to have a care in the world.
"Little Princess," The voice hissed again. "Care to join us?"
"You're one of them," she said. Her voice sounded like it was from a distance.
Suddenly, Vanimelda found herself in a dark part of the cavern. She saw no light. Nothing. But something was different… She felt smooth silks against her skin. The taste of cherries on her tongue. She felt… She felt…
Then light flooded the place. She didn't see where she was, but she looked down and gasped.
She was wearing a dress that seemed to be made of starlight, the way it shimmered and shone, emitting light. The gown was intricate patterns of leaves trimmed in silver-green and wavy branches in places illuminated with the silver of her gown. A sash of embroidered green cloth, with a silver leaf motif accessorised the gown and the elbow-length sleeves were tight, embroidered with silver leaves, trimmed in silver-green and the gown billowed and flared gently out into a full skirt. There appeared to be diamonds sewn into the gown and she touched her throat in shock. There was definitely a necklace there. A necklace of adamants set in mithril. How in the world did that come onto her?
The necklace was undeniably breath-taking. The delicate adamants were shaped like teardrops, set into delicate chains of mithril which linked together in an exquisite pattern. There were a few moonstones and it gave a net of something that looked like moon-glow and starlight put together underneath the light. And shock enough, she saw that there was a similar-looking bracelet on her wrist. And she could easily tell there was a circlet around her head.
"Like them?" The voice said, smug. "Aredhel left them to your mother. She rather loved her. She obtained them from her husband Eöl who made it, and obtained the mithril and adamants through the dwarves- although they obtained the latter through trade with the Noldor!" She laughed aloud. "Oh, Eöl. Foolish, passionate Eöl. He hardly ever used his head! Only your mother's uncle he feared, due to the reputation of the Fëanorions and the most formidable, dreaded warriors! But Turgon? Never mind that he was a king! Eöl should have thought more about what he said and did in front of Turgon not just the Fëanorions."
Vanimelda went ghostly pale. She swayed unsteadily.
"Now don't be like that. I did invite you. I am the queen, here, my girl. And you did give me the gift. Stay as long as you want, my dear. In fact, that might be forever. No one ever wants to leave!" She laughed. And her presence disappeared only to leave Vanimelda staring at the Hall once more.
Vanimelda, she heard her mother's voice hiss desperately. "Vanimelda! That woman's magic tried to block my fëa from making contact with you. But she failed. I just needed to wait. Don't eat or drink anything they offer you. Don't dance, not with them. But you must go to the Great Hall, make your presence known."
"Why?" Vanimelda gasped, trying to clear her head from the remnants of the woman's magic which made it foggy.
Instantly she felt her mother's fëa pressing forwards, clearing her mind. "No one shall ever interfere with your mind again," she vowed angrily. "I will always be there to protect from that. I can swear to you."
Vanimelda nodded.
"My influence will keep the magic of the songs and dances at bay. But you must resist the temptation of the food and drink yourself."
"Excellent. Well, at least I'll have a clear head." She muttered.
"I had to fight off the witch herself, as well as do the best I could to keep her influences from your mind. Your fear did not help matters, Seldë. Learn to control it, because it is your mind that determines whether you shall win or you shall die."
There was more truth in her words than Vanimelda can imagine.
"I shall have to strengthen our bond further," her mother murmured. "It's the only way to guard both your mind and your fëa from any influences."
"Yes, Amil," Vanimelda mumbled. "Is it true what she said? About…"
"Your grandparents? Írissë?" Her mother laughed sadly. "Very true. This was a gift- the last thing she ever gave me. We never saw each other again after we parted, but this gift was made to her by Eöl. Of course Curufinwë, my uncle couldn't resist tweaking it a bit after she instructed him to give it to me for my begetting-day, before she and Maeglin went on their way to Gondolin- and of course, you know the rest of that story. It was the only thing Írissë brought with her- apart from the sword."
"She was close to you and your father," Vanimelda murmured. "And all my uncles. And she married Eöl. An Avarin elf." Her mother said.
Vanimelda started. "But I thought Eöl was a Sinda."
"No, Melda. Eöl lived in Doriath and was welcomed and adopted as a kinsman by Elu Thingol, but he was one of the Avari. Of Tatyarin origins, like the Noldor, which would explain why he liked crafting so much. But he hated his Valinorean kin. Eöl's mother had entered the good graces of Thingol and thus as a favour, he took the child in, tutored and raised him as a ward. He lived in Doriath for a while- which was how he knew so much, not merely from the dwarves he was friendly with. But he could not stand the place- Eöl also hated and shunned sunlight- how many Sindar do you suppose despise sunlight- or any kind of light? Also, the customs of the Sindar and the Eldar are somewhat similar when it comes to marriage. Curufinwë, my uncle said as much when Eöl came to him. He was disgusted and enraged that he should lure and marry Írissë like that. Beren and Lúthien themselves know that they needed Thingol and Melian's permission to wed. The Avari don't think like that. They live in shadows, they are desperate, uncluttered and hasty in order to survive. Eöl could not stand the ease and the confinement in which they lived in Doriath, all the customs which were frivolous, trivial, stifling, cumbersome and unnecessary to someone like him."
Vanimelda absorbed all this in silence. "And what about my father?"
"What about him?" Her mother sounded surprised.
"Was Atar really… The son of Findekáno the Valiant or the son of Orodreth?"
"Ah…" her mother sighed. "Even that one confused me at first. Your paternal grandfather was Findekáno, Vanimelda. Of that I am certain. The high kingship of the Noldor passed from Findekáno to Artaresto because your father was too young at the time and too inexperienced. But surely you've noticed that your father and the portraits of Findekáno had more in common with what you saw with Artaresto?"
"But his eyes…"
"Your paternal grandmother was Vanyarin, Vanimelda. Artaresto's wife was Sindarin and their eyes are paler- either grey or silvery-blue. Not as blue as a Vanya. The confusion as to whose son he was, was probably because Artaresto's son was born around the same time as your father and that they were both sent to the same place- Mithlond, in order to be safe. They swapped places on the way to confuse anyone who might be targeting them. But even the Mithlond elves- who had never seen either child- were confused. Especially when Artaresto himself- loudly- thanked Círdan for keeping his children safe."
Vanimelda scoffed. "It seems that I have not a family tree, but a ball of twine." Until now, she could not be sure of who her paternal grandparents were.
"You should look at human royal family trees, then. Ar-Pharazôn and Míriel were first cousins. That was not the only intermarriage- especially during Númenor's decline."
Vanimelda grimaced. "So what now?" She said. "I have many more questions- but that will have to wait."
"Yes," her mother replied. "My first priority is to keep you alive."
"Alright then." Vanimelda said. She focused on the Avari elves. Unlike the royal court dances she had seen which there were set rules and norms for the steps, twirls and closeness of partners, the Avari seemed not to have a care in the world about such trivial things. They danced, leapt and jumped around, throwing their hair back and stretching their arms, with shawls, grasping hands and twirling with someone they just happened to come to close proximity with.
"Wait. How did she know about all this- that happened in Aman?" Vanimelda asked, alarmed. "And how did she get the necklace if it was given to you? The queen, that is."
"Who can say? Be on you guard. There is obviously magic here."
"Should I join them?"
"Why not make your entrance known. I doubt they would kill such a beautiful maiden."
"Huh." She scoffed. "Fine, then."
She took a deep breath. Praying to the All-Father and the Valar, she stepped forwards.
Instantly, everyone turned and gasped- once they noticed someone unusual had entered.
Everyone froze.
She was already regretting it.
Carefully, she glided down the steps, head held, not too high, but high enough.
Greet the king and queen, her mother hissed in her mind.
Stepping forwards, they all parted as if driven back by some magic- or insects with the threat of fire.
She reached the dais and curtsied.
"Rise," the king said.
She rose, slowly. The king had black hair that looked like liquid- it was so dark, so smooth. And he was so pale, it almost looked unhealthy.
Beside him, stood a beautiful woman with the same colouring. Pale as milk, figure like a willow and shiny onyx eyes. Her deep liquid-black hair fell in deep and glossy waves down her back and she wore a mischievous smirk.
"Ah," she said. And sure enough, it was the same voice that greeted her. "My special guest has arrived."
The king turned, eyebrows raised, towards her. "This is the one of whom you spoke."
"Yes," she said simply. She rose and went down the steps, taking Vanimelda's hand. Her skin was smooth like milk.
Everyone parted. "Care to dance?" The queen's eyes twinkled. Vanimelda! You cannot refuse, and I can protect you. But be on your guard!
She nodded. "Yes, my lady."
Music came again. She twirled gracefully and curtsied again to the queen, who smiled and laughed, delighted. Then she started to dance. It was as if someone was guiding her feet, making sure she did all the steps that would impress the others.
After a long while, the Avari started to dance as well. Vanimelda could see them, seemingly flying, and others coming in, dancing. A lot- a lot- of the young ellyn were coming forwards to grasp her hand and spin with her for a while. Too many, she thought. They were crowding around her, like to stifle her. They entangled her like a poacher's snare, with no way to escape.
And then she found herself in the arms of an ellon, a tall and handsome one. He grinned at her, showing a crop of gleaming teeth, white as goat's milk. His hair curled slightly at the ends. His face was slim, and handsomely chiselled, his bones, their placement and structure giving a finely-carved appearance. He was unbelievably handsome.
"A Star does shine in the hour of our meeting, my lady," he whispered.
Estela uses Quenya names. Nelyafinwë Maitimo Fëanárion is Maedhros, Curufinwë is Curufin. Ereinion is Gil-Galad and Findekáno, Fingon. Írissë is Aredhel and Artaresto is Orodreth.
Minyar were the first elves who became the Vanyar when they all departed for Valinor. The second group to be awakened and found were the Tatyar- those that did undertake the Great Journey became the Noldor. The ones that didn't, were included in the tribes of the Avari. The Nelyar were the third group, the ones that managed to reach Valinor became the Lindar or were simply the Teleri, like Vanimelda's maternal grandmother. The ones that didn't manage to get there, became the Sindar, and the Nandorin elves, like the Silvan elves. The ones that did not undertake the journey at all, made up the rest of the Avari tribes.
If you've read my first fanfic about Estela, Vanimelda's mother, then you know at first, she is confused as to whose son Gil-Galad was. In the Silmarillion and Unfinished Tales, Tolkien said that he was the son of Fingon the Valiant. But in other works, he is the son of Orodreth and the brother of Finduilas, and his mother was apparently a Sindarin Lady of the North. As for Eöl, sometimes he is a Sinda and the kinsman of Thingol, and other times he is an Avarin elf of Tatyarin origin.
Now here's the thing- we're all very confused. If Gil-Galad was supposed to be the son of Orodreth, why is he dark-haired (in most artworks that I've seen and the film) and how did he become High King so easily? And yet, wouldn't he be young when his father- whoever that was- sent him away? So why should a little boy immediately be crowned king? And his personality fits more with Fingon than with Orodreth whom some considered weak, even foolish (sorry if you are his fans!), like he had been trained and groomed by Fingon as his heir. As for Eöl- he is too different from a Sindarin elf- and in some works he is Sinda and in others Avar. I tried to reconcile both and provide an explanation for his and Gil-Galad's background for all canon-works! He would have remembered- whether he hated the Noldor or not-to ask for permission to marry Aredhel. And Sindar don't shun sunlight as he did, but Avari would need to be hidden to survive.
More secrets about her family later!