Warning! Premonitions- Spoilers ahead! Well, maybe not spoilers, but a few glimpses into the future!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Estela's dreams were… disturbing.
Thankfully, she got a good night's sleep, but she still saw things in her dreams.
She saw sunlight. She saw sand-storms, or snow-storms rushing towards her, blocking out the sun.
She saw a meadow of beautiful flowers. She saw herself lying on those flowers, surrounded by a fragrant bed of green.
She saw herself floating. Fire- no, lava- rushing towards her at top speed from within a mountain.
She heard laughter, and saw a banquet.
She saw soldiers fighting orcs.
She saw someone running with a massive harp slung upon his back- she heard whimpering coming from within.
She saw battles and elves marching.
She saw a city of gleaming marble, rising on three levels.
She saw a tree whose trunk and branches were as smooth and white as milk.
She saw her cousin hammering in his forge.
She saw herself, her hands held within Ereinion's, in front of a large crowd, dressed in white and they kissed in front of a cheering crowd.
She heard the cries of an infant.
She saw the rising of a dark tower.
She saw a figure with a huge harp slung across his back, and heard the sound of whimpering from within the instrument.
She saw fire burst out of darkness and a huge figure, in iron armour, crowned with spikes, raising his gauntleted hand.
She saw blood dripping from his finger, as black as the void filling a clear bottle with dark liquid that swirled forbodingly.
She heard evil laughter, and she saw a figure, as different as could be from the iron-clad one, surrounded in silver and gold light, with hair blacker and shinier than midnight, and eyes like stars. She saw her holding out a delicate finger and blood, gold and shimmering like Varda's stars, dripping down like Laurelin's dew into a vial.
Again she heard the cries of a baby. She saw Ereinion smile.
She saw a perfect gold ring drop and land on the tiled floor, and its sound as it fell echoed throughout her ears.
She woke up.
Estela shivered. This was the first time she did not dream of things from the past.
What did those visions mean? She felt like she could not dismiss them as some stupid dream.
A Dark Tower? Blood that was black and gold, and stored in containers? Ereinion? An infant? A huge harp? A figure in armour and another in light?
A gold ring? Her cousin?
What in Arda?
She got up and sat on the window seat, looking at the stars which always calmed her along with the night air. As if they might giver her some answers.
She stared at the skies.
She then remembered what the Maia messenger of Manwë had said.
Eönwë had told her... What?
If he had said what she thought he said, then why was she so afraid? Why was she hesitant?
I don't know! Something inside her shouted. But she would not listen to that part of her and knew if she did it would do no good. She was never unproductive.
But this was another kind of matter.
She was afraid because she lost everyone she loved. She was afraid because she may or may not be cursed and thus this would mean losing the ones she loved. She was afraid...
Because she didn't know a single thing to do.
She sighed and groaned. She had been taught to fight. She had been taught to weave and to craft other things. She had been taught to read and write. She learnt the languages of every race in Arda. She knew how to cook. She knew how to heal.
She did not know how to love.
She sighed and buried her face in her hands.
She was never taught that. That future had never been an option for her... until recently.
Why did I run away? She bemoaned. Why did I hurt him?
How could she be so stupid?
It was as if every choice and option, every action she took, was a stupid one, a reckless and dangerous course that neither guaranteed survival nor success.
The cautious, strategically-minded shieldmaiden had never felt so confused.
Why?
Why did she not think of him as the High King, despite his obvious authority? Why did she not want him to let her go? Yet why was she so desperate to save him at the same time? Was that more than guilt? Why did she feel so drawn to him, why did his very image consume her mind?
Why could she no longer pull away? Why was she starting to feel that if she did, she would regret it more than if death had been involved?
Why?!
She groaned and went back to bed.
Why did this feel so inevitable?
Whatever the reason, when Estela went back to sleep, her mind was filled with images of Ereinion.
His smile. His warmth.
Him standing tall and strong, spear in hand. His eyes glinted like blue stars as he looked ahead, in a barren, rocky wasteland.
Him turning those burning blue eyes towards her.
Fighting, moving like liquid, his spear in hand. Aeglos whizzing, and landing neatly in its target.
Ereinion's shout of triumph. And another person- a man in gleaming silvery-white armour with a winged circlet rising from his helm, raising his sword high in triumph.
She saw a dark figure in iron, wielding a large, heavy mace.
She saw seas of orcs and trolls run towards Elves, Dwarves and Humans alike.
She saw the elves raise their shields.
But before anyone could attack she saw an island, a large lush island, turning to barren rock and being engulfed by the sea.
Waves swallowed it as if Ulmo himself had decided to consume the island-kingdom.
She saw a fleet of dark ships overtaken by a gigantic wave and darkness settle.
Again she saw Ereinion his spear in hand, his black hair obscuring his face as he knelt, on knee resting on the rock upon a cliff, where he stood.
She heard someone scream, "Father!" And once more heard the crying of a baby.
Estela woke up and drank a glass of water, staring at the distance. The sun was rising and the blue skies were clear and that calmed her and cleared her mind.
Feeling somewhat better, she ate a small breakfast, then decided to get dressed.
It was her cousin's wedding. Telperinquar, now known as Celebrimbor (something which he insisted having her call him by), was marrying Silmiel. Estela did not enquire about her past or heritage, that was none of her business. But Silmiel and Celebrimbor (she had to call him that from now on) loved each other deeply.
She sighed. Why did I run away?
What in Arda was she thinking?
Why was she thinking this?
Why couldn't she stop this? Why was he consuming her every thought? Why could she not bring herself to pull away? Why did she feel like it would shatter her if she could not see him ever again? Why was she so consumed by him? What was it that made him like this to her?
Why did she feel like she would be able to live with anything, as long as he lived? Yet why was he so important, if not as High King? Important enough to make her wish she had stayed? Why was that?
Why and what was happening to her?
She sighed and closed her eyes. Silmiel was expecting her wedding dress. The gown was one of her finest creations and Estela had worked tirelessly for it.
She smiled as she held it out in front of her.
Silmiel's hair was silver, a bright, gleaming silver shining almost like mithril. Or my mother's hair, Estela thought. She remembered the Telerin silver waterfall on her mother's head, streaks of which adorned her copper.
The veil was gauze, trimmed in embroidered patterns at the edges in snowflakes, but not too much as her hair was very bright.
They're marrying today, she thought as she folded both dress and veil in boxes to take to the bride. She wondered about her own parents. What would they have thought about Ereinion? Well, she assumed they already knew about him, especially of his father was Findekáno. But how would they have felt? She knew they had no hopes for her to be married, because of her association (despite not doing what they did) with her grandfather, father and uncles. No good family wanted their grandchildren to be ashamed of their kin. It was a burden she had to live with her whole life.
But I'm not the kinslayer, she thought. Yet she just couldn't abandon them, no matter how wrong their actions were. She couldn't destroy her love for them, and as far as others were concerned, her not turning her back on them, denouncing them or choosing to fight against them meant that she was in the wrong.
But what could she do, take her sword against her own father, who not only gave her life, but gave his all to protect and raise her, to be better than them. She could not forget that. And no one knew them, not anyone who heard the stories of the kinslayers, knew them, because they never met them.
Why can't I forget him? She thought. Why all of a sudden is he the most important thing to me?
Once again her thoughts turned back to Ereinion.
This made no sense. She had no idea what was going on. Why she was afraid and exhilarated at the same time, to see him. Why her heart danced in both terror and anticipation when his hand made contact. Why could she not forget him? What made him so special? What was she feeling? Why was she feeling all of this?
These questions and frustrating thoughts swirled around like flies upon a bloodied carcass. Estela stopped what she was doing, sank to the floor on her knees and let the boxes down, while her hands went to the side of her head.
Why?
'Why' was the biggest unanswered question. 'What', however, was something she could easily figure out, no matter how reluctant she was to find out.
She loved him.
The wedding proceeded smoothly. It wasn't a large ceremony or feast. But the way they celebrated, one would have thought they were back in Valinor by their exuberant, contagious joy.
The couple said their vows in a grove beneath a canopy of blooming flowers with vines and small glowing coloured lights (similar in composition to their grandfather's lamps but smaller) and lanterns.
There was a meadow adjacent to the grove where the festivities would take place. This was done under Estela's guidance, because she preferred the outdoors. She thought it would be better rather than a great, brassy hall.
The bride was beautiful, her silver hair in sharp contrast to her new husband's dark. Everyone feasted, danced and sang, and Estela thought she finally found peace.
In truth she was afraid of that. If time in Middle-Earth had taught her something, it was that hopes are easily and so quickly dashed, time and time again.
She learned that the hard way. Why should everything change?
The darkness, whatever it was still remained. Call her pessimistic, but no one ever figured out where and what it was.
Or who the 'servant' which the old woman warned her about, was.
She watched them dance.
And yet she couldn't forget him.
Estela drank from her glass and sensed a presence nearby. She turned and to her surprise found someone near her.
It was the one who called himself Annatar.
He smiled and walked closer.
Estela straightened. She admitted silently that his presence was a welcome distraction from her thoughts.
He nodded. "My lady,"
"My lord," she responded. "I had no idea you knew either my cousin or his bride." Annatar smiled.
She thought it was a refreshing change from her brooding. "Only for a while," he shrugged. "I met Lord Celebrimbor a while ago. We talked a bit about metal-working and gems. The techniques and differences which characterise everything."
She raised an eyebrow. "You have an interest in such things?"
He smiled. "I love his work, and most importantly, I love how he works. His diligence is admirable and his precision and attention to detail is astonishing. And I am also interested in how you both manage to build trade alliances and friendships with other races."
She smiled slightly. Estela found that she had somewhat relaxed since he started talking. Her mind was no longer fettered with brooding thoughts.
"I have had my fill of enemies, I never wanted to make," she said quietly. "I'm not my grandfather, or my uncles. Vengeance is hollow. Morgoth needed to be stopped but I..." she trailed off. "I would have not allowed my hate to cloud my mind. I'm sure Manwë still remembers he was his brother and it must hurt." She went silent.
"They hurt you, didn't they?" Annatar asked softly. "Your family?" Then he said, "Forgive me, my lady, I am too forward."
"No," she shook her head. "They loved me, and I knew them and remembered them for who they were before Finwë's death. But I don't seek to deny their actions, no matter how I loved them. They should have known. I've had years to think about this. They were playing into his hands."
Annatar stood still and watched her.
"They played into his hands," Estela said. "He wanted them to go against the Valar, and my grandfather, blinded by his grief, rage and paranoia, thought the Valar were working against him. To be honest, Morgoth should have never been released, but that was necessary. We were going to face the Dark Lord anyway, but we should have worked together and build ties, rather than severing them and making us weak. Look at what happened. Some were indifferent and uncaring of the fact that a Dark Lord needed defeating- Elu Thingol for one - whilst others were consumed with other feelings and motives apart from defeating a great evil, which should have been the most important priority- that being my family of course, and admittedly Beren and Lúthien- others who did have the power and their hearts in the right place did nothing those who had the power and strength, not merely the supernatural, but political. Those who stood and fought were weak and alone- Túrin Turambar stood alone and he was manipulated by Morgoth. I could have fought, but my father ordered otherwise, I do not mean to sound proud and critical of others but if he wasn't so insistent-" her face darkened "- nor if anyone would not have held all Fëanorians in suspicion- thanks to my kin- I would have given my all. As it happens, now I live with my regrets." Her mood darkened.
"Did you really think that you could have defeated Morgoth?" Annatar asked.
"I doubt it," she scoffed. "But at least I would have done something- something that might have even turned the tables. Even a small bump of good is enough to topple a great evil. I never would have matched him in strength, and he was cunning, but Morgoth was blind in many ways- he saw the beauty of Arda and instead of choosing to contribute, he sought to destroy it."
Before either of them said any more, Ereinion came forwards. Estela started when she saw him.
He had seen them and simmered in jealousy- she seemed so at ease when talking to him, but when she revealed her innermost thoughts, Ereinion stopped and listened in.
But he would speak to her.
"My lady," he greeted. "My lord Annatar," he acknowledged coolly.
"My King," Annatar replied. Ereinion nodded coldly, and asked, "Will you walk with me, my lady?"
She just stood there silent and frozen, before blinking and nodding.
The two of them left the celebrations.
They walked side by side and Estela struggled to find what to say. When she turned towards Ereinion he was the one who spoke first.
"Congratulations on your latest alliance," he said quietly, "And on gaining a new cousin. But that was not what I wanted to talk to you about."
"No," Estela breathed out a sigh. She knew what he was going to say.
"I wanted to talk to you about what happened that night- most importantly, what will happen."
She was silent.
"I apologize if I was forward," he said quietly. "I truly am sorry. But what of the future?" he looked pleadingly at her.
"Things are so different now," she said quietly. "I'm still getting used to the idea that anyone actually wants-" she shook her head.
I'm not the only one, Ereinion thought. But he wouldn't speak that out loud to save his life.
"Things have changed now, and they are the better for it," she said quietly. "I keep waiting for something to happen- anything that would destroy everything. Time and time again, if there was anything constant in all my centuries, its the pattern of destruction, hope and brief joy, and dashed hopes with destruction again." She hung her head and shook it.
"I am ashamed," she said looking up. He frowned. "It isn't your fault," he said quietly. She shook her head. "I ran away that night. You did nothing wrong. It was me. I should have known better. I am sorry." Her voice was so quiet, soft as down. She looked into his eyes when she said those words. Emerald into sapphire.
"I-" she took a deep breath, unsure what to say, and unknowing how to convey her feelings, before Ereinion suddenly came forwards and kissed her.
He kissed her with all the fire of that fateful night, yet more. His heart burned. She responded back in turn.
This time she didn't pull away.
And as the dancing and singing took on new heights, Ereinion and Estela held each other close and their foreheads touched.
It seemed they wouldn't separate.
Annatar closed his eyes. To the untrained eye, he was a wonderful creature, a being of benevolence and gifts.
But no gift comes without a price. And soon the price of gifts would be extracted.
The visions he saw obscured everything. Estela, granddaughter of Fëanáro. Her future.
She was vastly, almost limitlessly important. Only a fool would not believe so. Even ignorant Men knew her to be important.
But she would either be his greatest ally and accomplice- or the cause of his downfall.
Save for her cousin Celebrimbor, there was no one else left of the House of Fëanáro. And out of the two of them, who was the one most likely to be a threat? Estela.
She was not easily swayed. And she was aware of the manipulations of Morgoth, and the mistakes of everyone who fought in the War of Wrath, and she would never make any of them. Not in a million Valarin Ages. And she was formidable, highly intelligent and talented, to put it mildly. She would be the greatest threat or help.
The House of Finwë. For many an Age, the House of Noldorin Kings and Princes were the greatest and most feared enemies of the Dark Lord Morgoth. Out of all the races of Arda, there was none he hated more than the elves and out of all of them, none he hated more than those of the House of Finwë.
Nelyafinwë Maitimo was wise to hide his child from him.
But Nelyafinwë was gone and so was his family.
Instead Estela became the greatest resister to Darkness- her and the High King Gil-Galad.
But soon, another Dark Lord will rise in Arda.
And he would not make the same mistakes as Morgoth, while continuing his work.
It was a poorly-kept secret, now. One which was maintained for appearances' sake- for appropriateness.
But everyone knew why the High King came so often to Eregion, and the other reasons why the Lady Princess Estela came to Lindon's capital other than diplomacy and trade.
But the dreams hadn't stopped.
Mostly she had nights of blissful dreams and peace.
But then strange visions occurred in her sleep, and even nightmares.
They weren't too bad, just disturbing.
The Darkness in the fortress. The figure wreathed in fire and with an iron helm, spikes crowning it. A great eye, lidless, made of flame, with slit-pupils like those of a snake's, filled with such malevolence, she could not possibly imagine or describe it.
She saw herself and Ereinion in a hall full of beings of all races.
She heard the sound of a baby crying as she saw drops of viscous, thin blood dripping from a finger, in a mostly gauntleted-iron clad hand- dripping right into a clear bottle, swirling around ominously. It was foreboding.
She heard the baby scream.
She saw flames burst out of nowhere, and heard someone- frighteningly familiar- scream, "No!"
She saw her cousin, tall and proud, shaking hands with a white-clad figure with golden-bright hair and fairness of features.
She saw him hammering in his forge, with a hammer forged of mithril, of such astounding beauty, the sound of it striking like bells, ringing a pure note, while the light flashed as it caught on the white-clear metal.
She saw sixteen rings forming a circle, each adorned with a gem. They glowed with power, not just light and she knew these were not ordinary rings.
She heard Artanis-Galadriel's voice. "We have been deceived."
She saw a figure in iron armour- the same figure- with spikes crowning his helm raising his fist high into the air.
A perfect gold ring gleamed upon it, as the lava rose above them, roaring of evil.
She saw Ereinion speaking with various elves of different cultures and with humans and dwarves as well.
She saw herself with him, speaking to everyone.
She saw her cousin handing out something to Ereinion- and to Artanis.
She saw a figure covered mostly with silver light, like stars, whose hair was blacker and more shining than polished jet and whose eyes shone like violet stars.
She saw the figure reach out a delicate hand- she was a female- and gold liquid, glittering fall down into a vial. She saw her own hands taking that vial.
She heard the coos of a another baby.
She saw a sea of orcs charge through, while somewhere, her cousin screamed a scream that wrenched anyone who heard it in pieces- a scream which spoke of heartbreak, agony and loss.
She saw dead figures on the ground- one was a small girl, with black hair- a rare elven child.
She saw an elf with fair hair, carrying a huge harp across his back, out of which the cries and whimpers of a tiny child echoed from within.
She saw a shieldmaiden on horseback, sitting tall and proud.
Estela did not speak of her dreams, but when she rose for the day, her mind wandered longingly to Ereinion.
She drank a cup of tea, the smoke billowing and rising from the liquid.
Dreamily, still tired, her eyes wandered from her breakfast of leftover cake, to what lay outside her window.
It was her cousin.
Telpe- Celebrimbor walked near the sea, with another. That other spoke to him. Celebrimbor listened intently.
The figure had such gleaming bright, fair hair and the fairest face.
But then he said something that made her cousin throw back his head and laugh. But the other one stood still and his eyes- even from a distance, Estela saw them glow.
They glowed with orange-yellow flame, like the ones she saw in her dreams, accentuating the pupils, which were dark as the void.
And for a single instant, she could have sworn they grew thin rather than round, into slits, like a cat's or a snake's.
The eyes of the Darkness.
It was Annatar. And yet it was not.