Chapter Thirty-Four
The pain was like nothing she had imagined- not pain exactly, not numbness, and certainly not pleasure- and yet much worse than she imagined, and knew it should be.
The blood ran and dripped down her legs to the carpet below, and she screamed.
Ereinion saw the blood and his eyes widened. "Send a message to Lord Elrond- immediately!" The attendant ran out.
"Artanis," Estela gasped, sagging and clutching his sleeve with one hand and her belly with the other. Her eyes rose to meet his, and he never saw fear in her eyes as there was now. "I need… Artanis."
Galadriel. Yes, he sent a message to her too.
This would not be a natural birth.
Estela screamed.
This was early, too early. Since when were elven children born so early in the gestation period? And she was in a lot of pain.
The healers, and Estela herself, had assured him the child was developing normally. But lately, Estela's dreams and lack of peaceful sleep prompted him to worry.
She clutched at the wall.
Everything seemed to blur before her eyes. The pain was pain, but it wasn't exactly. She could not describe it. It felt… it felt…
It felt like the darkness deep in the heart of the stone fortress.
The Darkness that tormented her.
The Darkness she felt would come again.
Estela lay in a twilight world.
She could not understand anything that was going on. Her eyes opened and closed.
She saw elves coming in and out of the room, bringing things like towels and pitchers of water, but could not see their faces. Darkness covered her eyes before she managed to open them and saw the elves hand them to others whom she could not see.
She was Elrond chanting something above her. It was a mix of something… Valarin? Quenya? She did not know.
Again everything went black.
She remembered a hard pressing in her belly and feeling as if something was being sucked out of her.
She felt as if the darkness was physically consuming her once more, only this time, it was inside her. Already inside her. She wanted to scream, to get it out. She would much rather have it out there, rather inside her, impersonal and powerful as it already was. And what about her baby?!
She wanted to scream.
Her baby was inside! Her baby with the Darkness! Her precious, innocent son, his precious, innocent life about to be snuffed out and threatened by the dark crowding around them, coming into them. She wanted to claw her belly to tear or rip him out, anything to get him to safety where he belonged.
Her eyes opened again (Were they closed?) and she saw elves bending down at the foot of her bed (Was she lying down?), pressing towels, mopping up the dark blood coming out, while another poured a pitcher full of hot steaming water, into a basin. She heard Ereinion make a sharp retort, or a shout at someone. She felt Artanis nearby, but was too weary to look for her.
She felt her husband grip her. She wanted to scream. She wanted to tell these fools to take a knife or a dagger and cut the baby out of her before the Darkness took him.
But somewhere, deep down, she knew it was already too late.
It was inside, encircling her, torturous, gripping, draining both lifeblood and fëar. Both hers and her precious child's.
She was being consumed from the inside out- they both were, by the darkness which was like a ravenous beast.
She had never felt such despair- not even when she heard her mother was dead, not even when she heard of her father's death and her uncle's disappearance.
It was choking him, it was going to him, it was inside him, her baby.
The Darkness rose, threatening to tear everything apart.
Black blood ran down her legs.
Estela gave one last scream before falling unconscious.
Ereinion had yelled himself senseless in his fear, panic and helplessness.
Elrond had his hands spread wide and was chanting in a mix of Old Valarin and Quenya.
Galadriel brushed her goddaughter's gold-and-silver-tinged copper locks from her face, which was unnervingly pale.
She had chanted inside her mind, heart and fëa, and used all the power Melian had taught her. Now as her cool hand gently stroked Estela's forehead, hair and neck, she bent down.
Ereinion choking, supressing his tears of fear and panic, saw Galadriel whisper something in Estela's ear.
Silence. It took a long while, but suddenly the Queen's eyes opened. The flash of green was preceded by something that looked like dark blue with a silver star in each orb. Before Estela gripped the edge of the bed with one hand and Galadriel's hand with the other and pushed, screaming.
Suddenly with a rush of blood, black as the Darkness came the baby.
There was a howl, and Ereinion marvelled with shock that it was a new voice- a new voice had entered into this world, made by him and Estela- and was a part of them both.
A new being.
Everyone laughed with relief, save for Galadriel whose face was troubled and Elrond whose eyes snapped open but whose face remained unchanging in its grimness.
Something was wrong.
The attendants laughed with relief as they cleaned the baby in warmed water, cut the cord and wrapped it in towels before clouting and swaddling it.
They passed the baby to Ereinion.
"A boy," One of them breathed. "Strong and healthy. Nothing wrong at all."
At least that was what they wanted to believe.
Ereinion gingerly took the child, worried that he might drop it- him. It was his son- his son.
A son.
Tears threatened to well in his eyes again, but only this time, it was not out of fear, but an indescribable feeling, so powerful and in such quantities, nothing can describe it, unless one has been there in actuality, in the very same position.
It was the most amazing, most wonderful, most miraculous feeling.
They towelled off Estela as well and gave her a long drink of cold juice to restore the fluids she had lost. They also gave her a tonic that would restore her lost blood, but for some reason, Estela knew it was not her blood.
The same feeling of awe, amazement and joy was present in her, but it would have to wait. The afterbirth came, after which Artanis helped her to the bathroom.
She came back, clean- hair and skin scrubbed and washed with scented soaps and fragrant oils, and tightly bandaged in case of further bleeding.
This was not a normal birth, everyone knew that much. Not normal at all.
An elf would not experience this much pain- as for that much blood-loss, if any… The need for a healer to be present or a midwife was very minimal.
Estela's hair was combed and braided- Celebrían did that, while tea was poured for her, but all she wanted was her baby- to find out if he was alright.
Galadriel's face was deadened and emotionless, and Elrond's was guarded.
The baby was handed to his mother, wrapped in soft cloth, and above, a tuft of liquid-black hair was visible. She chuckled wearily. It was adorable. His face and features were so delicate and tiny.
One fist with tiny, delicate curling fingers peeped out of the blanket's folds. The fingers curled and she marvelled at it, touching the skin. It was soft and smooth and sent a jolt of pure joy, awe and love through her along with something else.
She felt her husband come up beside her and wrap them both in his arms. Tears welled in her eyes, and the joy and love and awe was overwhelming.
A pity it didn't last forever.
Ereinion kissed her and she felt him tremble with emotion. They were together, they were safe. And they were a family.
Neither would never be alone.
They celebrated too soon. Celebrían gasped and Ereinion recoiled, catching himself in his alarm.
Elrond too looked alarmed and troubled, and Galadriel closed her eyes when she heard them react, without even seeing for herself.
As for Estela- she nearly dropped the child.
She managed not to scream, but that was because she couldn't find her voice.
The child's eyes glowed orange-gold like molten lava. And his pupils were as black as the void.
Celebrimbor gasped in relief as he read the letter. Apparently his cousin had given birth- earlier than normal, but both mother and child were in excellent health. The infant was a boy. And the mother wanted to see her cousin.
Beaming he saddled his horse and rode for Lindon.
When he got to the palace, everyone was buzzing.
There were whispers and words spoken in excitement. Everyone was looking over their shoulders and whispering excitedly to anyone that just arrived. But they all stared and parted for him, many gazing longingly at his back as if eager to secretly follow and find out.
He strode into the residence wing, and the quarters of his cousin, and the High King.
On the way, Celebrimbor glimpsed a human walking through the corridors, shoulders hunched. He stopped and started. What was a human doing here? He could be one of the Faithful, and by the looks of it, he was a servant, but apart from him there was no one else around.
He then realised that everything was eerily silent. Ominous even
Warily, he walked towards the door to their suite of rooms and knocked.
"Who is it?" Galadriel's voice was sharp.
"It is I, Celebrimbor."
The door opened and Galadriel nodded to him, her eyes sharp as her voice. "Come quickly."
She closed the door immediately after he entered. Celebrimbor looked at her bewildered and opened his mouth before Galadriel shook her head.
She walked off, back into the bedroom, Elrond appeared behind her.
A glance between the two, told him something was not right.
Elrond approached. "Come," he gestured. Even warier than ever, Celebrimbor slowly and carefully made his way to the bedroom.
He heard the coos of a baby and saw Estela in bed, holding a swaddled bundle in her arms. Ereinion stood next to them, facing the wall.
His cousin had tears in her eyes.
She looked up when she saw his arrival, and he was shocked at the sight of her.
She looked beautiful, as always, but so pale and drained, and there were shadows and hollows in her beautiful face that should not be there.
Her lovely eyes were wet as he slowly approached.
"Estela?" He smiled. "You have a son," he remarked gently as he looked down at the bundle.
Estela's eyes were blank as she looked down, not really seeing the baby in her arms. The smile was wiped off his face.
She was silent.
"Valar," Celebrimbor breathed. "What is it? What's wrong? You have a child, Estela- and they tell me he's healthy!"
Her beauty looked ghostly and translucent as she looked up again, not seeing him, but moved to place the baby in the crib. He blinked in alarm.
The cradle was lacquered ebony, intricately carved and inlaid with flecks of gold, mother of pearl and diamond in patterns that cast rainbows in the light. The silk sheets glittered with lamé and although it was fit for a High Prince, he wondered that despite being appropriate from display, whether it was practical. In fact, the celebratory, ornately-lavish thing appeared out of place in such a somber atmosphere.
But this was ridiculous! The mood was the only thing out of place!
"Estela," Celebrimbor said firmly. "What is wrong?"
Silence again. Ereinion turned to look at him and his eyes were filled with unspeakable rage and anguish.
"Valar almighty!" Celebrimbor cursed. "What is it?" He was losing patience.
"Do you really want to know?" His cousin's voice sounded hollow and dull, as if from a distance.
He frowned. "What is wrong?" He asked quietly. "Why have you not announced the birth of a High Prince to those outside? By the looks of it, it's been some time now."
Estela gestured for him to come closer.
Frowning, Celebrimbor leaned forwards. He bent over the swaddled form.
Her dainty hand gently pulled back the blanket covering the baby's face.
The baby's eyes were wide open.
Celebrimbor could not stop the gasp from sounding.
The infant's eyes glowed like magma, still in the earth, but his eyes in contrast, was black as the lifeless void.
This was no elf-eyes.
These were the eyes of Morgoth's demon.
"My Lord," Belzagar, the human arrived. "The child has been born."
Annatar felt his lips twitch into a smile. "It has begun."
Estela's weakness was that she could never really be rid of her love for her family. And now, the queen and the remaining Fëanorians had been poisoned from the inside out.
Well, maybe not the last yet.
But Annatar had given the rings to the Dwarves and soon would begin distributing them to the Men.
Only Annatar knew of the true extent of the threat the Fëanorians faced. It was he who advised Morgoth to place a stronger guard on Nelyafinwë Fëanorion on the Thangorodrim.
They were a threat- and they would remain a threat.
But no more. All he had to do, was ensure the plan went smoothly. Estela did not suspect him- she knew not in the least what happened to her son. And Celebrimbor had finished sixteen rings already. The dwarves had theirs, and Annatar himself came and delivered some to human kings. Some were Dunlendings, Easterlings and there were even Númenóreans- those that agreed with the King's Men.
Annatar smiled. Yes, all was going according to plan. In fact, the plan was doing exceedingly well. At this point there was no one to stop him.
"How?" Celebrimbor's voice was hoarse.
"Does it look like anybody knows?" Ereinion's voice was heavy yet strained.
Celebrimbor was unable to speak. This… this…
This was no child. This was an abomination- a curse brought once more upon their House.
Estela moved her head slowly, as if waking from a slumber. Her hair was unusually lank and hung in cloudy strands of dusty copper around her face and a mass about her shoulders. A tear seeped out of her eye, as she stared otherwise expressionlessly at the wall.
"I have felt the child's fëa." Galadriel intoned. "He is not an elf."
"Not an elf?" Ereinion spoke as if he too were rousing himself from a deep slumber, and his voice increased in volume.
"Why is my son, not an elf, Lady of Light?"
Galadriel looked grave. "The child's fëa is stifled- if there is any semblance of an elven spirit within him. There is something- a darkness grows within him, it has flourished within him until it has gained strength and soon it will grow."
Estela gave out a strangled cry. Her son did not even stir in her arms.
"There is something more," Elrond warned. "This child- his physical form appears to be more than an elf's. Far more. Less than twelve months within the womb, and already he looks as if he has emerged within the right time."
That was true. This boy-child was the size of a baby born and carried to full term.
And his features were more developed than even a new-born infant. Elven children were not born red-faced or purple and wrinkled like the children of other races, with irregular and contorted features, but their features and skin were clear.
But even they did not have features as defined as this boy's. The infant had clear skin, pale actually. Very pale, but a seemingly dark pallor, the colour and texture of creamy satin or milky porcelain. But it was very translucent and it did look dark. It was so smooth and it looked polished. He had the hint of a handsome face with chiselled features like those of his foremother's sculptures. Celebrimbor saw many of his relations in his features. His father and uncles. He saw his grandfather, but only after the time when Morgoth came to him. His black hair gleamed like polished onyx or spilled ink and it matched his downy eyelashes. He saw Gil-Galad, obviously, and Estela, but there was something else there. Something familiar.
"He's strong," Elrond said. "Strong and healthy even for an elf. His muscle and bone structure appear to be… reinforced. It seemed unusually strong."
Celebrimbor turned to him, puzzled. "What else have you noted?"
"He does not cry as much as an infant normally does," Elrond said. "We fed him with a bottle- he has teeth."
"Teeth?" Celebrimbor was astounded. Few babies were born with teeth.
"Two at the top and two at the bottom," Elrond responded.
Estela placed the baby in the cradle. He was asleep.
Her eyes never once left the baby moist and mournful as she gently rocked the cradle.
Her little child. Her sweet boy.
Her son.
She wept silently as she rocked the cradle.
She did not care. She could not, no matter what others said. He was her soul and heart, just like his father. Her very being's lifeblood- the reason for her existence.
But she remembered what had passed in her dreams and she could not deny that this was far from good.
"The darkness inside his fëa has affected his hröa." Galadriel announced. "The darkness grows stronger with each passing minute, and has already taken root within.
"What has happened to him?" Celebrimbor choked out. Ereinion glanced up, his face ashen, eyes hollow and his hair clouds of hanging dust.
"We do not know," Elrond murmured. "But rest assured, we will find out."
Celebrimbor shook his head, and thought they needed to summon a servant for sleeping drafts for the parents, but then he froze.
"The servant." He murmured as if from a distance.
"Who?" He wasn't sure who spoke.
"The servant I saw in the corridors- the human one? Who is he?"
Estela looked up, numb, but incredulous somehow. "Belzagar, he said his name was. A Númenórean- one of the Faithful."
"Are you sure?" And the sudden harshness of Celebrimbor's voice made them look to him in alarm.
Estela blinked and stirred. "He said-"
"I don't care what he said. His name enough spells death. The name of the Númenórean king who first openly scorned and wished death upon our race."
"Names themselves means nothing," Estela shook her head vehemently. "Names have power," Celebrimbor's eyes suddenly showed the star of Fëanáro son of Finwë and the irises turned dark blue. "They might have named him to divert suspicion at first by the King's Men." Estela said. "Inzilbêth is an Adûnaic name."
"True," Celebrimbor said quietly. But it does not explain why you depend on him more than your other servants."
Ereinion looked bewildered. "What?"
"I saw him leaving your chambers when there was no other attendant around," Celebrimbor said slowly.
Everyone started. "I did not summon him," Ereinion hissed.
"No, I do not believe you did," Galadriel said quietly.
Estela stood, without any sign that before she had been in agony. She ran, tearing across the room and out the door, ignoring Ereinion's shout to wait and his attempt to grab her arm.
Somehow she knew. She knew.
The eyes, oh the eyes. They were not elf. They were not human.
They were not natural.
They were Annatar's- the Umaia.
Of this now, she was certain.
She finally cornered him- in full view of other servants and grabbed him by the throat, screeching death and with murder in her eyes.
She looked so terrifying some of the maids even screamed.
She grabbed him and slammed him against the wall, her arm against his throat and chest.
"What did you do?" She screamed. She was blinded with the fury and rage of a mother-wolf.
"What did you do to my baby?"
Everyone gasped. Ereinion, Elrond and Artanis found her.
"You wretch!" She howled. She pulled him off and slammed him harder against another wall, with a force enough to break bones. He groaned and the servants gasped.
"Estela," Ereinion barked.
"You," Estela hissed with so much loathing she could not comprehend or bother to measure it. "You worked for him, didn't you? For Annatar. You were never one of the Faithful."
Belzagar choked. "Admit it wretch!" She screamed. Her hand found his throat and began to squeeze, not enough to kill but certainly enough to be unbearable.
"Estela," Ereinion walked forwards and backhanded the human. Belzagar gasped.
She loosened her grasp. "So tell me, wretch. What did you do? What did you do to my baby, tell me or you will face worse than death."
Belzagar sneered. "I do not fear death. My master is worse than you."
Estela slapped him. Blood poured out of his nostrils as she struck him somewhere fragile. "I said worse than death. Do not try me, wretch, for I am capable of that and more."
Suddenly she reached out with her mind and forced herself into his. He experienced visions like nothing he imagined. And suddenly she learned the truth.
She screamed and struck him again. Blood poured more copiously than before as he fell to the ground.
"You-" she did not even finish before she felled blow upon blow, upon blow onto him, and would have killed him herself had Artanis and Ereinion not grabbed her.
"What?" Ereinion demanded. His eyes were like blue fire. "What did he do?"
Estela took a shaking breath, and shaking herself, began to tell.
Celebrimbor rode back to Eregion. This was wrong, this was all so wrong.
No announcement regarding the birth of a High Prince was made. No celebrations, no congratulations- nothing.
He entered his forge, feeling the need to find some comfort in something familiar- and to rain blows down on something.
But as he hammered something happened.
A vision made him pause and engulfed his mind's eye.
He saw a figure, clad in iron armour with a helm and a spiked crown rising in terrible spires upwards. The figure stood upon a cliff overlooking a sea of lava, rising his fist up to challenge all, the glint of a gold ring upon his finger.
A Ring of Power.
"We are betrayed." Galadriel's somber voice resounded within his mind. "Its power blazes like a beacon, and will bring ruin to all Middle-Earth."
Startled he gasped, glancing at her, suddenly finding more visions as he looked upon her sudden presence in Eregion.
"No," he gasped and whispered at the same time. "It cannot be."
Estela ran out of the palace. She even rode a horse out of the capital- all the way to Eregion.
"What have you done?!" She wailed as she burst through the hallways of Celebrimbor's home.
Little Eleniel clutched her mother's gown in fear, and Silmiel herself gasped at the sight of Estela, Noldorin Queen, charging through the doors, uncharacteristic of what she had always been around both of them. She burst in, just as Galadriel was talking to a white-faced Celebrimbor.
"Estela," Galadriel warned.
"You made those… those ABOMINATIONS in the eyes of all beings?" Estela screamed. "WHY?!"
They stared at her. But as Galadriel moved forwards to try and calm her, but it was to no avail.
After managing to get them into a separate room, Estela continued to…well, anyone would know, and they did not have to hear it either- it was no use, going into another room, after all. At least no one had to see what was happening.
"- HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE?!" Elrond- who had appeared later than Estela, could have sworn that her voice shook the whole place.
"WHY?! HOW COULD YOU- GRANDSON OF FEANARO- HOW COULD YOU HAVE DONE IT? WHHHHYYYYY!
"YOU OF ALL PEOPLE- HOW AND WHY?!"
Everyone- even those not near the room, cringed. No one- no one- had ever seen Estela in such a mood. She did not inherit her grandfather's temper, and her uncles'.
She inherited the best qualities, Elrond thought. A pity, then. He always assumed she took after Nerdanel in temperament. Elrond himself had never met Nerdanel the Wise, wife of Fëanor, but he had heard- and read- things about her.
He inwardly groaned. How long was this going to take?
Ereinion arrived not long after. Elrond found it best to explain to him everything- including the fact that Celebrimbor had been deceived- they all did. Galadriel spoke so as well.
But bells were ringing in an all-too-familiar ring for Estela. She had seen it happen- she saw it all before.
Galadriel knew. She took her mind back, centuries before.
The Silmarils. The unchaining of Melkor. The slaying of Finwë. Fëanáro's madness. His speech in the square. The Oath.
And now, it was happening again.
Such a thing should never be repeated, especially with Estela, but history repeats itself.
A pity then, she was immortal.
It was all so unjust, but what good did it do, to dwell on such things?
Galadriel sighed and rose.
She went towards the door.
She found both cousins in an unbelievable un-describable state. So bad she would rather not see it, much less mention it.
Estela emerged, and her face was paler than usual, but with flushed cheeks. Her eyes were wild.
Elrond supressed a wince. Something was definitely not right.
"Estela," Elrond said. He groaned. "I take it the Rings of Power have been made?"
Her eyes widened. "You know?"
Everyone knew," Elrond said.
"Save me," she was about to turn a glare towards her cousin, before Galadriel came forwards, followed by Ereinion.
"Estela," Galadriel began, and Ereinion took her in his arms. "Estela, love, do not do this. We were all deceived, my love."
She sunk to the floor, all firepower vanquished. She looked diminished.
Ereinion went and gathered her in his arms once more, pulling her up and close to him.
"How many rings did Annatar request?" Ereinion asked.
Celebrimbor swallowed. "Sixteen, my King."
"Sixteen?" Elrond looked alarmed.
"Seven for the dwarves and nine for human kings."
"Seven for the dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, and nine for mortal men doomed to die." Estela whispered bitterly.
Galadriel felt a chill sweep over her when she said those words.
'Seven for the dwarf-lords in their halls of stone. Nine for mortal men doomed to die.' Where did those words come from, and what power did they have?
"And soon… one. One more. One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne."
Everyone turned and gasped. "One ring to rule them all," Estela intoned solemnly. "One ring to find them. One ring to bring them all, and in the Darkness, bind them."
Such words had so much power, and knowledge. But where did they come from?
"That's what those words mean," Estela said softly. "What words? What are you talking about, love?" Ereinion looked alarmed.
Estela pulled back, and her eyes were dark and full of icy knowledge as she intoned words from a tongue which no elf had ever heard before.
"Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, Ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul."
Everyone gasped, and Galadriel had to stop herself from falling backwards. Not even the Lady of Light, could ever dream of such harsh and dark words coming from the mouth of so fair a queen as Estela.
"Now I understand," Estela murmured, as if from a distance. "I understand and speak and am able to read and write in every language there is. Save for this- until now. Black Speech, the language of the orcs. Now, to my pain, and everlasting grief, I am able to understand."
"Where is he?" Ereinion snarled, his voice increasing in volume. "WHERE IS ANNATAR?!"
Elrond looked at Galadriel.
"Right here," a voice that made the very air turn cold sounded nearby.
Ereinion gave a cry and would have launched himself forwards to slay Annatar, but Elrond held him back. Estela however moved slowly forwards, followed by Celebrimbor.
"You lied," Celebrimbor said hoarsely. His face was white. His eyes were filled with horror. "You lied to me, and deceived us all. You used those rings yourself, didn't you? To bring us all to ruin."
Annatar shook his head, a small smile appearing on his face. "No, I did not use those rings myself. I bound them to me."
"You bound them?" Celebrimbor whispered, his face growing whiter and whiter.
"They be would drawn in, those who wear them. Drawn in closer to the power and lure of the Dark. Mesmerized by it, captivated. Tempted, even. And the more they are drawn in, the less attached they grow to other wordly things- their hopes and dreams, their loves and hates. Their body-feelings of hunger and cold or heat. Their goals and ambitions, even. Until at last, they would lose themselves, their physical forms, leeched from their souls, until at last, their spirits too, would be bound to me. Enslaved as you call it- my wraiths in the dark."
"And my son?" Estela said in a deadly voice.
"Not him." Annatar smiled. "His physical form will remain. But his elven-hood will be burnt away, like paper in a flame. His soul was taken before he was even born. I do not need to enslave him when he is already mine- my child who bears my blood, as much as yours, Great King, or yours Good Queen. And soon he will follow my orders- he will lead on, as I did once, for my master. My son. He will unleash death and destruction upon all- and rain an apocalypse down, releasing a flood of darkness and death which sweeps across all. He will be as I was to Morgoth, my master."
Galadriel tried not to shake before this horrible, awful, abominable thing. More poisonous than anything- not even the elves taken to Utumno, turned to orcs by Morgoth had been taken as such. They at least knew life before being vanquished of any semblance to their former selves. At least they would only be mere minions- enslaved not overtaken and possessed. At least they knew and found themselves and breathed a life of their own. There were no words to describe this. And if the changing of elf to orc in the depths of Utumno was the most hateful thing in the eyes of Ilúvatar, how much more foul was this, in the eyes of the Father of All!
She was sure she was so white she might have been more lifeless than a corpse. She did not dare to look at the High King and Estela, to see what they looked like- what her cousins must have thought- to know that their grandson was taken by evil- to be ensnared and possessed before anything could form- any knowledge of oneself- and hope or dream of the future. Golden Maitimo and Eärelen, her closest friend, more like sister than cousin, and Findekáno- more of a brother, like all the rest, than an uncle's son. What they all must have felt!
How grateful she was, then. For the first time, she was grateful they were not here to witness such a thing!
"You are fouler than Morgoth," she whispered.
Estela, frozen at first, like her husband, then screamed. Screamed as long and loud as she could. Screaming to the heavens, screaming to the All-Father and the Ainur, no doubt. And cursing Morgoth in those wordless screams.
"Curse you!" Estela screamed, yet sobbed. "Curse and damn you to a Doom worse than what he will feel. May you find an end so foul that no one dark will dare to speak of it! May you always know sorrow and failure, before you grasp any! I CURSE YOU, SAURON THE ABHORRED- ABOMINATION IN THE EYES OF ALL!" She shrieked so loud, there was no doubt those high above would hear it.
As it turned out, history did repeat itself. For like her grandfather before her, Estela named him. Morgoth the Dark Enemy of the World, and now Sauron the Abhorred. Names had power, she had sealed their fates: The Dark Lord and the line who would seek to fight him, bring him to his knees, destroy him until the end of all days.
Ereinion could not be held back from trying to kill him any longer, but as he burst forth out of Elrond's limp grasp, a darkness like smoke, but far fouler, curled up and around Sauron like snakes, causing him to vanish, into air.
Back in the royal palace, they all sat limply in the High King's bedroom. Estela put her baby to bed, rocking the cradle gently.
He was still her baby- her son. Her sweet, innocent precious boy whose life had been taken away before his first breath.
But the fëa had been formed at his begetting- not his birth. It was his father and mother who gave him his hröa. But the All-Father had given him a fëa- a pure, real fëa, before Sauron inflicted his foul poison into his veins and sought to destroy it, crushing it forever. So he was her son, before Sauron inflicted anything upon him- he had a soul before it was snuffed out. But she could only hope that whatever soul the All-Father had given him was not completely crushed. That somewhere, deep inside, undetected by the greatest evil, a trace of an elven soul still lingered in the small boy.
And would remain until the day it came out again. And it would. It must.
"He is no longer your son," whispered Círdan. They had just broken the news to him. "He is no more your son, Ereinion, than if he had been sired purely by the foul creature who so heartlessly took him."
"I sired him." Ereinion said numbly. "Before he was poisoned. He would have lived, if it were not for that. What are you suggesting, that I kill my own son?!" He looked up his eyes and face a mask of anguish.
"He is not gone," Estela said suddenly. "Not completely." Everyone turned and stared. "He is my child. And his father's. And the Father of All gave him a soul long before he was possessed. It must still be there- his soul, not completely gone- something must still remain. The forces of evil do not take all." Her eyes were anguished.
"You cannot announce his birth, can you?" Elrond asked quietly. "Nor can you declare him High Prince and heir."
"No," Estela whispered, tears running down her face as she looked at her lost child. "No, he is the first to be treated as such. He must be kept secret. And safe- for there are more who wish to kill him thoughtlessly and others who would capture and use him. Until as such, I shall never give up hope or stop the fight to save him. My son." She looked up, and in her face, was also anguish.
Galadriel nodded. "And we shall continue to hope and do all that we can." She declared. "What name shall you give him?"
They all looked at the baby. There would be no public ceremony- no celebrations. No declaration at all. Nothing to indicate that a child lived and breathed somewhere within the palace in Lindon. But he still will have a name- a sign that they had no given up on him.
"I shall call him Avanwion." Ereinion said quietly. He stood and walked over to the edge of the cradle. Galadriel again felt a chill. Son of the Forbidden. For this boy bore the new Dark Lord's blood in his veins. "Until such a time when he can be called Aranyon. Two father-names I give him, and one day, one will be erased and he can be called by another that took its place."
Aranyon meant Free One.
"I shall call him Fëanuldon," Estela whispered. "The Secret Spirit. For I believe, no I know, that somewhere, deep within, unseen by all including the eyes of evil, an elven spirit still lingers until it can come out."
"Very well, then." Elrond nodded.
They all took one last look at the doomed child, born under a dark star and all wondered fearfully if there was any hope in the world.
Morgoth might have destroyed the past. But Sauron had annihilated the future.
Númenor had a new king.
Míriel, daughter of Tar-Palantir was not killed, according to council reports. But to the disgust and shock of the elves, her cousin forced her to enter marriage with him.
Such a union was another reminder of history- save then, it was not successful. After all, how could Estela ever forget Itarillë, the one she was so close to as a child, to be a sister? How could she forget the other cousin- the one she never met- who desired Itarillë and betrayed her, Turukáno and their city, allowing them to fall to ash?
No, she could not forget.
History repeats itself- although events are sometimes altered.
The new king was Ar-Pharazôn. And Tar-Míriel, as she had called herself, was forced to accept him. No, no one had any doubt the 'marriage', if one called such a disgusting thing that, would be far from successful and happy.
And somewhere, there was a dark, barren, ash-ridden land. It was the remnant of Morgoth's reign- no life grew there, except for the foul Ungol- the spider daughter of Ungoliant named Shelob.
But another had arrived.
Sauron stood at the edge of the cliff that overlooked the sea and fall of lava below. He smiled.
Mordor.
One Dark Lord fell, another rose to take his place.
The new Dark Lord of Mordor shed his fair visage, to reveal hair like the one on the doomed babe and eyes as black as the void- until it glowed like the lava, below that was, with slits for pupils.
And all would tremble before him. Seven rings for the Dwarves. Nine for the Men. But the elves discovered his plan before any more rings could be forged-no matter- he had poisoned the elves from within.
Soon, his plans would come into fruition. And yes, the boy would be a part of it.
Ah, the boy. Such great plans he had for the child. Such great plans.
And the boy would be at the head of his army- all will tremble with fright at the mere mention of his name.
Almost as much as his father's.
Once again, Merin Essi ar Quenteli has saved the day with names. Don't worry, as ominous as this sounds this is not the end of everything- I'm not going to say what will happen to Estela's son, but there is hope. And yes, there's more still to come. I can't make any promises, I know what you want. But there's always hope. I came up with the idea of Estela cursing him with that name, because it seemed quite an interesting twist- a sign that history is repeating itself- Fëanor renaming Morgoth, and Estela renaming Sauron.
And I think we all know all that Estela cursed him with, will eventually come true.