Summary: Minastauriel is living in a dream; beautiful rooms, devoted tutorage, and an uncle ready to accept her as kin. When a vision reveals a chance for some of the many questions around her to finally be answered… she gets a lot of feelings
Notes:
AKA Minastauriel practises Sindarin, reflects on pranking Erestor, has a vision and then an identity crisis. None of these will be unrepeatable.
Oh this chapter was so much better to write than chapter 9.
See end for contextual notes and Glossary
Please DO NOT add to any private collections
Might this grief-struck garden soon yet bloom
2nd April 2931
Minastauriel's recital of Sindarin verbs quietly echoed throughout her day chamber, the words long since learnt but still needing practise in their pronunciation. "I stand. I stood. I am standing. I will stand," she muttered as she paced back and forth, the rhythm of her steps matching the cadence of her speech. Eventually, Minastauriel stopped and drank a few gulps of water from her goblet, for returning it to the applewood table that occupied the dining area of the room. It was time for a break – any longer and her tongue would surely cramp!
After a few short weeks, windy March had given way to the heavy showers of April, and with the rain came vivid blooms, reviving the many gardens of Imladris into vibrant life. This included the private garden she now shared with Elrond and his sons. The tree blossoms and delicate snowdrops from earlier in the year had been replaced by budding leaves and daffodils, then bluebells. Now, tulips adorned the garden in bold sweeps, bouncing their petalled heads merrily in the breeze. The sight brought a smile to her lips, a welcome distraction from the annoyances of her language studies.
Despite her progress in learning Sindarin, Minastauriel couldn't help but feel frustrated at how juvenile her spoken word still sounded. It became more apparent when fatigue or excitement crept up on her, leaving Minastauriel embarrassed when she recalled her words later. Like that horrendous spiel she had spouted about 'Good things for good people'.
Turning away from the window, she sent an admiring glance around her largest room. She had moved away the healing wards about a fortnight prior and still was astonished at the beauty she now lived in. The incident on the nineth day of March meant Lurlosel and Lord Elrond had postponed Minastauriel's move into more permanent accommodations, fearing her visceral reaction to the last uncontrolled vision. Over the ten days of careful monitoring, she had several more visions, most of which were events from the past. She was very careful never to resist her visions again, despite the unpleasant nature a few of them took. She was fairly certain she had seen the death of Gil-Galad during one of her visions, though usually she didn't recognise the people her Sight showed her.
That night, midway through March when she saw Gil-Galad's death, Minastauriel had been thankful to have been sleeping so close to Lurlosel's quarters, who had come running at her cries. She was eternally gratefully her vision offered no olfactory experience and deliberately avoided reminiscing that horrible vision in case she inadvertently summoned a similar one. There were other things she had to occupy her mind with; such as achieving fluency in Sindarin. If she ever intended to use her foresight for good, then she had to learn to speak in an educated manner. Additionally, the more she could speak; the more she could learn, and the more she learnt; the more titbits of the future she remembered. There were dark times ahead; she was certain she was meant to use her foresight to minimise the future tragedy.
During her prolonged stay in the wards, she had had much to think about. Talking however briefly to Lord Erestor the day they first met had prompted a serious consideration of her purpose there. Eventually, she had made peace with much of it. She was here for a reason. Someone had brought her to the Third Age within walking distance from Imladris. If none of the Ainur were powerful enough to bring her here, or if there were none among the Ainur who possessed power over time; then there was only one other it could be. One outside of time, more powerful than all the Ainur combined. The One. Eru Iluvater.
It certainly put a heavy burden upon her to succeed – the weight of destiny resting uncomfortably on her bird bone shoulders. Her success or failure could mean life or death for many people.
But surely if her presence here and now was by the will of Eru, then it also meant success was guaranteed. It was that thought she comforted herself with, any time the magnitude of her situation sent her heartbeat into a panic. Any plan of Eru could hardly fail, right? Even the attempts of Melkor only stood to greaten Eru's own glory. So, in the end… everything would be alright… wouldn't it?
During the ten days she was kept in the wards, whilst frequency of her visions slowed, Lord Elrond and Erestor visited her almost every day, sometimes to speak to her or offer lessons, and other times to update her on matters. Erestor had been surprisingly generous with his time and continued to be so after she moved into her own quarters, tutoring her in many areas including his lessons in Tengwar they had started when she was still in the side room. Her progress in spoken Sindarin maintained a ridiculously fast pace, despite Minastauriel's own misgivings about her pronunciation and accent, but her reading and writing did not develop as quickly. Erestor had told she was doing very well, but Minastauriel knew she used to be excellent at reading and writing. It was frustrating to have to relearn a language she must have been fluent in before; and to be reduced so low as to forget the most basic of skills like how to hold a quill or even the mere shape of the letters. Not that she let that show on her face – Erestor was taking time out of his schedule to tutor her, and she was not going to return the favour with a bad mood.
As much as Minastauriel wanted to cram language fluency back into her brain, she couldn't spend every waking hour studying. Elrond had taken her on walks around his home, giving her a tour of the entire valley apart from the private rooms of the inhabitants, including letting her see several places from her memories. Their last walk had been on the day she had been discharged from the wards. Lord Elrond had guided her to the set of chambers she now called her own. They were located in the lower part of the valley, only a short distance away – a corridor and a left turn – from where Lord Elrond and his three children's chambers were.
The set of rooms had been freshly renovated and were still undergoing finishing touches when she had moved in. Erestor had assigned her a written task describing them, intending for Minastauriel to practice her Tengwar. Less intentionally on Erestor's part was that she also repeatedly got underfoot, though the elves organising and preparing her rooms took her questions in good-natured stride.
In face of Elrond's generosity, Minastauriel privately wondered if Lord Elrond missed Arwen. If Minastauriel was correct, which in these things she typically was, it may have been four centuries since Arwen had left for Lothlorien.
The largest room, decorated in blue and cream, connected to the corridor and served as a spacious sitting and living area, as well as providing access to the shared garden. Alongside the applewood table and set of dining chairs was a desk, a bookcase and matching dresser, and a metal fire grate with a small kettle for tea.
The smallest was the dressing and washroom, with another larger fire grate, a long sheet of mirrored metal, and a small copper tub that let her wash her hair separately, despite the nearby bathing rooms. The soaps and oils took a little getting used to, but her skin and hair soon smelt and felt fantastic. The room also housed her clothes in a darkened oak wardrobe and a chest of drawers, as well as a dressing table; all covered in starling motifs singing to engraved stars. Her new clothes were all tailored to her mortal frame but cut in elvish fashion. She had quickly developed a habit of twirling in the mirror each time she wore a new dress, though she took comfort in frequently wearing her old jewellery. She didn't remember the stories behind the items but retained the sentimental feelings each item inspired.
At her request, there were a couple pairs of breeches and a lovely pair of boots as outerwear for her walks around the fields or along the river. Forgamana, a seamstress, had heard of the tiny stitches her original garments had and had taken them as a good-natured challenge to her craft skills; recreating the top she had arrived wearing in an elvish manner, this time tailored to Minastauriel's measurements. It resembled more of a tunic now, long enough to reach her mid-thigh but still intended to wear with breeches.
Her sleeping room was as spacious as her day room but decorated in pale gold and light pink. There was a small fireplace, cosy armchair, and the softest bed she imagined she had ever slept on. She kept her new comb, a bronze backed looking glass, and delicate vials of perfume and hair oil on a small vanity engraved with flowers.
Of all that Lord Elrond had given her, it was her attending maids that took the most getting used to. Minastauriel had known of personal attendants, their purpose and so on, but she assumed the practise of employing them wasn't prevalent in Elvish society or tradition.
'Perhaps it is not an elvish custom,' Minastauriel had thought wryly when she had been introduced to the brunette elf-maids, 'but they think I am entirely incompetent in looking after myself, and Turiel and Rilma drew the short straw on who should look after me.'
Unless directed otherwise, Turiel and Rilma woke her each morning, helped dress her, tided up after her, took her clothes to the laundry rooms and brought her meals from the kitchen to wherever she was eating, be it her room or if she was sharing a meal with Lord Elrond or Lord Erestor. It took days to convince Rilma and Turiel that she could bathe herself. However, Minastauriel did appreciate their help in washing her hair in the small basin on days when she didn't need a full bath. Their extra hands made it easier to do so without getting her clothes wet. They insisted on dressing her hair every morning, though never braided it in any intricate manner, which Minastauriel had an impression was a thing in Elvish culture once one was of age. If she wanted for anything, she was to inform them, and they would organise its provision.
She resolutely avoided thinking about why her host was being so very generous towards her or why she had been placed on the same floor as his kin. Or the implication of his belief she was from Númenor, which had not been discussed since out of risk it would trigger a traumatic vision.
For her part, Minastauriel always made her requests in a 'Please could I have?' manner. Since she didn't need much beyond what she already had, her requests were simple: more writing instruments and paper, a vase for flowers and additional undergarments in the style she still favoured. Forgamana made several pairs of the latter as requested, using small buttons to ensure they fit properly since the fabric's stretchiness remained a mystery. They could tell the stretchability came from a plant extract, but not the plant itself nor how it was processed.
Turiel and Rilma weren't constantly hovering around, which Minastauriel appreciated. While she valued their assistance, she also enjoyed her alone time. They mainly attended to her in the mornings and late evenings and were willing to be relieved of their duties for the rest of the day if Minastauriel wished. However, she suspected they sometimes lingered nearby just in case she needed anything.
After her walks with Elrond, Minastauriel could confidently explore the Last Homely House without fear of getting lost. Initially, she eagerly offered to help with various tasks, such as fetching or carrying things, or accompanying Turiel or Rilma on their chores. Neither of the two elves had experience serving as lady's maids to a mortal, so they were content to let her follow them around. They were less keen on her attempts to join in with the chores, however.
Attempt being the key term; her efforts at household chores often led to calamity. Perhaps she really had been a noblewoman, given how fascinated she was when she visited the kitchens and laundry room. She had no knowledge or memories of cooking over a fire or beating rugs clean, nor the exhausting work of a laundry worker. She was fairly certain the most help she had been only when she found that envelope for Erestor when she still resided in the Healing Wards, and then returned a bracelet last week. Her lack of knowledge or experience made itself known, repeatedly.
One afternoon, she had accompanied Turiel to fetch water from the well. The sight of the archaic contraption charmed her with the intensity of a child with a new toy, and before she knew it, she was leaning in for a closer look. Curiosity took control, and one closer look led to another even closer look and soon she found herself perilously close to tumbling into the depths below. With a desperate grab at the chain on both sides of the pulley, she narrowly avoided disaster, much to the relief of the onlookers.
Mercifully, this had been in the evening and most of the elves had gone to the Hall of fire to hear Glorfindel – who she hadn't met yet, but really, really wanted to – recite some First age poetry.
However, and quite tragically, the second time this happened, it was the middle of the day and about fifty elves saw her end up drenched. On this occasion, she was attempting to assist with fetching water for a couple laundrymaids. She managed to trip over her own feet, sending herself stumbling backward and landing squarely in a large pail of water. Spluttering and soaked, she had emerged from the mishap looking more like a half-drowned rat than a supposed noblewoman.
The incident, as well as others from the kitchen and laundry areas, prompted Erestor to intervene, imposing a ban on Minastauriel's proximity to the well without supervision. In a delicately worded conversation, he reminded her of the importance of sticking to activities more suited to her skills and avoiding further mishaps that might endanger herself or others. In the face of her utter mortification, Erestor had then offered her a mischievous smile, suggesting the staff would appreciate being able to do their jobs without fearing Minastauriel ignite, boil, or drown herself. The words had startled a laugh out of her where she had been feeling chastised, and she had agreed to stop trying to help the elves do their jobs. She still took back the empty plates from her meals to the kitchen if her maids didn't grab them first, however.
Despite Erestor's early and highly apparent distrust towards her when she had first arrived, she could confidently say he had greatly warmed up to her over the weeks of daily meetings. No doubt a result of her passing all his 'tests'. Though Minastauriel had spotted the first one, it hadn't been until she found a stunningly beautiful bracelet 'dropped' in her room that she had realised Erestor was staging ways of measuring her character. As many would do the same, she had promptly sought out Erestor to ask him for help finding the bracelet's owner. Eyes opened to Erestor's ruses, this time she noticed the same satisfaction hidden in the scholar's eyes as when she had first refuted the notion of her being granted – Eru forbid – any authority or high level of responsibility. Looking back, he had held the same expression when she had seen him the day following her frantic look for a secret document and when he had spoken to her about which tasks she could give her maids. There were likely other instances too – but from the thawed distance between herself and the chief counsellor, she was confident she had passed his examinations.
And, as many would at least like to do, she did get a little payback for his tiny deceptions. Nothing wretched – she understood his position and decisions entirely – but… turnaround was fair play after all.
The woman stretched slightly whilst she smiled at the memory of her miniature vengeance. Mostly to get even for the time she had needed to take to reorganise all her notes, Minastauriel had snuck into the library when Erestor was elsewhere and swapped the bookmark and book cover of the tome on his desk with that of a similar sized book of poetry. Her reading skills had progressed enough that she was able to tell the poetry was highly metaphorical and flowery, whilst her maturity could recognise the euphemisms used were just on the right side of the line between a prank and a provocation. The real book she hid in a drawer of a side table, one of her own bookmarks keeping Erestor's page retained.
She had acted out her own ploy when Erestor returned, so she had a reason to be in the room when he opened the book. Whilst under the guise of asking a linguistic question about variations in the 'g' and 'k' sound, Minastauriel had a front row seat to watch her tutor flick through the book to his mark, take a sharp glance at the poem, then shut the book quickly with a snap whilst the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks turned delightfully pink. There had been a stare-off, before Minastauriel had burst out laughing then explained – whilst returning the correct book – that she wanted to make sure Erestor's mental list of her character attributes also contained well-mannered mischief and a respectable amount of serving someone their just desserts. Erestor had been almost delighted – and threw his nose into the air with an exaggerated huff and gave her the list of her traits she had demonstrated over several small occasions since her arrival; a list ending with the newest trait. "-Honest, usually. Finally; childish, with a level of lark that would certainly fit in well with the rest of the Imladhrim. I assume you chose this form of ruthless revenge as retaliation specifically for my causing the disorganisation of your notes?" With a quirk in his lips, Erestor had followed this by imperiously held out his hand, "a truce then? Never shall I deliberately cause mischief with your stacks of notes that we really must source you a binder or folder for, and in turn you shall never deliberately cause disorder to my library or its contents."
Minastauriel had grinned at this – and did so again in the present time – clasping his hand in her own. And because she really was rather impish, she then added with friendly snark, "Agreed – a truce. For such a serious matter as books and study notes, I would suggest we make it an oath… but that would perhaps be a bit gauche."
Erestor had actually laughed at that, a true bought of laughter that filled his office in a shock of genuine amusement – though perhaps he had done so because he had already planned his own revenge. Guess who had had to read aloud poetry with highly suggestive, flowery descriptions of dew-drenched roses and strong limbed trees during their next tutor session?
In the present day, Minastauriel glanced at her timepiece - she still had close to an hour before her next lesson but couldn't face any more independent studying in the meantime.
Each day followed a structured routine of lessons, including an hour dedicated to acquiring common knowledge and skills that everyone else seemed to possess effortlessly. These lessons were embarrassing at times, but the time was invaluable; she shuddered to think of how difficult it would be to acclimatise without the lessons. Yet, none were as humiliating as the unofficial first lesson Lurlosel had given her on the very first day of awakening. From learning to brush her teeth with a softened twig and chalk-mint paste to mastering the use of the privy, it had been an ordeal. Later, Lurlosel had even taken it upon herself to research how adaneth managed their lunar cycles, when that had very suddenly reared its head.
Despite all her lessons, and occasionally day spent hiding in her room in embarrassment after another mishap, Minastauriel still had more free time than she knew what to do with; especially since she 'wasn't allowed to do jobs'. Without a skill level of reading appropriate for the books Erestor had in the library, she wandered and marvelled at the beauty of Imladris. The Last Homely House, with its perfect blend of Ñoldor and Sindar architecture, seemed like something out of a dream. Where marble and granite were used, carvings of flora and organic shapes followed. Accompanying rich tones of wood – cherry, oak, yew – would be deep blues and reds. Many open verandas with delicate woodwork fencing were surrounded by gardens filled with vibrant flora. Statues and fountains stood proud next to thick walls of stone that had never once been breached by an enemy. Trees provided both shade and a playground for the joyful Imladhrim, as they lined the stone walkways and courtyards.
She had been granted access to pretty much everywhere – aside the well and other people's personal chambers - including access to the more private areas in the lower parts of the valley. She often returned to the places Elrond had showed her that she remembered seeing in her memories.
Today, she passed several elves along her meandering, who all smiled at her and gave short bows in greeting. As Lord Elrond's guest, she had been made aware she didn't have to bow back, but she couldn't help but reciprocate their respect with a bob of her own. Manners were free, after all.
Her feet took her to a familiar room. Staring up at Isildir as he cut the ring off the hand of Sauron, she was reminded of his looming threat. An approaching darkness, a being older than her species, bent on destruction for all that he desired ordering the world into his vision. If she was correct and really had been sent to assist Lord Elrond and Middle Earth... then how? She would be an old lady by the time Sauron made his move. Not that she could do much now - she could barely see clearly more than a few inches from her face. Small and slender as she was, it was clear her body was unused to lengthy or exuberant physical activity. She did not know military strategy or medical treatment. Was her purpose to be nothing but gaining control of her visions; more precise and clearer than could be boasted by even the Lady Galadriel, and then to record them for use in several decades time?
Perhaps it was. But she didn't want to be just a... a soothsayer! She wanted to be more, do more.
She sighed. 'Easier said than done! I have plenty of knowledge but no skill to apply any of it. And which skill would I even start with?' A glance back at Isildir laying at the foot of Mount Doom sent a flurry of memories before her eyes; many she knew: Hobbiton, Bree, Imladris, Moria, Lothlorien; and many she did not recognise.
'I suppose I could make it my goal to become a trusted, wise wandering woman by the time Sauron makes a move. A sort of worldly advisor; my visions are never wrong and if that become well-known... I could use that. Which will mean a lot of travelling... so I guess I need to learn how to ride a horse.'
Minastauriel had no more than spent a second entertaining the thought of learning to ride a Mearas like the one Gandalf rode than she felt another vision coming. Well-practised already, she readied her feet, stabilised her stance and put a hand down on a nearby side table in case she was overcome by vertigo.
She Saw the bush currently growing beneath her bedroom window. Covered in buds as it was now, Minastauriel watched it bloom and blossom, and with it she saw herself hurrying through the family garden to the Entrance Hall, walking swiftly past other blossoming plants on her way. And who did she see there at the Entrance? Gandalf!
The room snapped back into sight. He was coming soon?! Despite the solemn serenity of the room, she danced a quick jig at the thought.
Gandalf! Yes, this was good news. He was incredibly wise, so surely, he would be able to decipher the mysteries she was still entangled in, and perhaps then shed light on her future steps. And Gandalf was basically an inter-kingdom advisor himself – if she impressed him... maybe she could be his apprentice, in the future? Just for the vision aspect of course... She was not going to be giving suggestions on military strategy. Though perhaps some other information she knew would be useful. She wasn't sure.
She should tell Lord Elrond, shouldn't she? So, rooms could be prepared? Or would Gandalf have sent word?
Though Gandalf did seem the type to just arrive somewhere and enjoy surprising his to-be hosts. What fun would it be for him to arrive and have everyone to already expect him? And perhaps this would help Erestor trust her Foresight a little more.
Now... where was Lord Elrond? Or Erestor – should she tell him first? Erestor was Imladris' second in command and took the majority of responsibilities in the running of both household and valley and so probably would be the one in need of forewarning of a wandering wizard's impending arrival.
Where were they likely to be?
She had been practising this. That small, flame-like spark inside her. The focus on what she wanted to see and when. Eyes closed or relaxed; out of focus – so she was less likely to 'fight' a change in sight.
Unsurprisingly, Erestor was in his favourite domain. The library, with Lord Elrond.
"She didn't know the Age she was in. She had no idea when she was; when she had arrived."
"So she says. That is still not evidence that she is from a different Age. And did you not yourself comment her clothes weren't tailored? Yet you would say she is a princess."
"We've discussed this before. Lurlosel said Minastauriel remembered being given a metal headpiece at some point in her youth. That day in the wards, Lurlosel told us how the woman struggled to dress herself – even in the garments like stays that all women wear, be they high born or the lowest. As if she had grown up with having servants assist herself in dressing. Since then, Minastauriel has told Lurlosel she wore the simple clothing she first arrived in because they are easy to put on and take off independently. She is hardly the first woman I have heard of to wear clothes borrowed either from servants or male siblings, for comfort or practicality. As to being highborn – you have seen her hands, correct?"
"That is still a stretch. Her hands, yes, are indicative of non-labourers; but not necessarily nobility. But we are talking in circles, as we have for weeks. You had something to show me?"
"Yes." He gestured to the delicate carved wooden chest in front of him, sitting on the desk between them. "I have been searching the vaults for these. My brother's letters to me – they were heavily preserved with enchantments which made retrieving them a lengthier process than I would have preferred. But now they are here: my opinion may be biased, but these should provide written evidence."
"Evidence?" Erestor repeated, a twinkle in his eye. "But I thought you said you were convinced?"
"I am, but you are not. And I do know you, my friend, and you will never be content nor at ease until you can trust her and her intentions. Do not think I do not know why you offered to tutor her in so many subjects. Similarly... I dare say she will be spending at least the immediate future here in the valley, and she cannot grow without roots. People need to know from whence they came, even if they never seek to go back."
"Well, if Elros did write of a missing daughter that you have since forgotten him mentioning... please let me see the letter."
Laughing at ease despite them having spent another half an hour bickering over the same argument yet again, Elrond was still agreeing he would when the doors opened.
She certainly looked the part, Erestor could quietly admit to himself. Long gone were the healing ward shifts. In a fine blue tailored dress, her hair half held up with glittering combs, and adorned with her original jewellery – she would pass as any rich man's young wife or of-age daughter. Minastauriel gave a small curtesy in greeting to Lord Elrond, and one to himself which he had previously told her already was quite unnecessary.
"Lord Elrond, Lord Erestor – I had another vision. Imladris will have a guest soon when the bush beneath my bedroom window blooms. Mithrandir will come."
Erestor glanced at Lord Elrond and sighed, tapping the chest as he stood. "Let me know what evidence you find – I shall organise the readying of his usual rooms."
"Um – did I stop a meeting? I can leave instead of you, Lord Erestor?"
"Not at all Lady Minastauriel." Erestor responded to her manners in kind. "Our conversation just reached a natural end, and no doubt Lord Elrond will provide a far better conversationalist, given he has visions too. I will return shortly Lady Minastauriel, for our Tengwar session."
"You are not surprised." She commented, as she watched Erestor leave.
Lord Elrond hummed in consideration. "Perhaps. I invited him weeks ago – but he has not sent word for when he will arrive. I believe we should expect him in a fortnight's time, which ought to match up quite nicely with the blossoming of that peony bush. I suppose we will have to wait and see."
It took a moment to understand, then Minastauriel felt her face light up. "Gandalf will be here in two weeks?"
"Yes. You are pleased?"
She could hardly contain herself to merely nodding. "Gandalf is very clever, and good. Wise and magic – I want to speak to him. Maybe he will be able to tell where I am from. Maybe even have met me before..."
This had Elrond leaning forward, moving the chest to the side of the table as he did. "Do you remember meeting him?"
"No, not quite. But I remember seeing him many times in my visions."
"Hmm – have you remembered anything regarding yourself?"
"A few things," she said, fingers tracing the embroidery at the edge of her pale sleeve, "I know I was born in big city – I don't remember the name of the city, but it was the capital of the... the island I am from."
"And who ruled that place? Who oversaw the capital?"
At her silence and deepening frown, he continued, "An easier question then – who was the first King of Númenor?"
The reply was immediate. "I cannot be from Númenor," but Elrond bade her humour him. She sighed, "Elros Tar-Minartaur was King." She glanced up at Elrond as she then continued, already predicting his response. "His children were Vardamir, Tindómiel, Manwedil and Atanalcar. I cannot recall his wife's name. But I have remembered a little of my own family."
Locks of Lord Elrond's hair now rested on the table between them. Minastauriel had her hands under the table, wringing her sleeve cuff between her fingers, failing to crease the elven fabric.
"I still struggle with remembering the actual names." She paused in thought, "and I certainly don't remember any names of theirs in any language I now know, but I do remember I have, had... have... three younger brothers. I remember the meanings of their names, and that of my mother."
"Younger? All three?" She knew that would be picked up on.
"Definitely all three were younger. I remember this. And I know Princess Tindómiel had one older and two younger."
This gave Elrond a thoughtful expression before his expression cleared. "Or so it was written."
'Yes – because the birth order of a king's heirs is never written with much care or precision.' Minastauriel thought, not even trying to temper her expression of doubt.
Elrond politely ignored her raised eyebrow and instead changed the subject. "What were the meanings of your brothers' names?"
"'Eru is gracious', 'Gift of Eru' and 'Protector of Man'. My mother's name also meant 'Eru's gift' but it was in a different language… Erulissë perhaps but Eruanna sounds slightly familiar."
"Interesting names."
"And none of my brothers' names mean anything like Varda's jewel or friend of Manwe." She quickly chipped in.
Leaning back in his chair, Elrond shrugged gracefully. "It really does matter a lot to you. It is important to you that I do not think you are Tindómiel."
It wasn't a question, but Minastauriel considered it and her answer carefully. "If we said I was, and then Gandalf said or Lady Galadriel said I wasn't, or some other evin-evid- proof shows I am not. It would make you sad. It would make me sad too, and I would go back to not knowing who I am or where I belong." She stared at the dark wood in front of her – putting her fears into words opening a wound she hadn't known she had borne. The words hurt to bring out into the light of day.
"My dear, I promise you – for as long as you remain as you are; good-willed and meaning no harm to any of my people; you will always have a place to belong here in my home." He gave her a moment of silence at the sight of a wobbly lip and watery eyes. Then gently he continued.
"Do you understand why I think you are Tindómiel? You say things like your brothers' name meanings not matching with those of my brothers' sons; as if Elros was not raised in a Ñoldorin culture with it being commonplace to have amilessë that are in turn typically not well known to the public, reserved only for those close to oneself. Irrespective of what you say you remember – there is evidence that is unquestionable. You have the strongest proficiency in Sight that I have ever heard of; among Man or Eldar. The only Adan who possesses any level of this gift are those who can trace their bloodline back to my brother. Your body; your face, your skin, your hair, even your hands – they all clearly show you are of Western descent and highborn. It is almost inconsequential that your memories – which I take full fault in rendering less than reliable – argue against what your hoar says itself.
My sons among others who heard you speak when you were originally found in the Rhudaur – they have repeated some of the words and phrases to me since. Not Rohirric, nor Gondorian Sindarin, nor Common Westron or even the Esgorathian dialect. And so, we have a highborn lady, not from Rohan, Gondor, Bree or Esgaroth. Lindon has few mortal inhabitants, certainly no great houses of man to produce any highborn, ladies or otherwise. Back to some of your first words when you were discovered - one of the few things you clearly conveyed was your lack of clarity in what Age it was. There are-"
He stopped when Minastauriel's hands suddenly abandoned their attempted at tearing holes in her sleeves to clutch herself in a self-hug.
She looked very lost. She still had a few pink lines of new skin on her face from where she had torn at her skin.
He took less than a second to question himself. Elrond swept around and put an arm delicately around her hunched shoulders, slowly rocking the pair left and right as the woman took one shuddering breath after another. Several long moments passed by. Eventually she looked up at Lord Elrond from the corner of her eye, who took it as cue to still continue, even more delicately than before.
"You are from somewhere in Arda. You are someone with a family history. I know, without doubt, that we will get the proof you need, and I truly, truly believe you are Tindómiel."
"Then why don't you know? Surely your brother would have told you? That he had a daughter powerful in Sight. That she disappeared one day. Why wouldn't he have?" The words burst out of her lungs with more force than she would ever like to have used when addressing someone she admired so much as Lord Elrond.
As calm and unperturbed by the outburst as the Misty Mountains are in response to the small breeze caused by an agitated sparrow, Elrond soothed her. "There is very little known about my niece. He sent letters originally, which I will be examining again later today, but over a couple of decades he stopped mentioning her. If I consider the situation as it was in those times... Morgoth only removed a few decades prior. Sauron's whereabouts unknown. Perhaps he sought to protect her by making her abilities unknown. Perhaps as her powers grew, the more she tried to fight the visions; and the greater the price of doing so. May-haps she started losing her eyesight, or even stared losing her ability to speak in Sindarin?"
Her head whipped around to face him. "And what – she was kept in a tower to avoid being seen?"
In the face of her offence, he gently tucked a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear. He hadn't noticed the ever-so-slight point her ears had; round though they were still in comparison to even to his own. "You introduced yourself to us as Lady of the High Tower. And I made no mention of towers. What do you think you would do – if you were Tindómiel and had such gifts."
A sharp breath. "I would have known the Men of Númenor would eventually become corrupt. So many thousands of years ago – there is no warning or knowledge I could record to assist our people that could not have gotten into the hands of the enemy and used to our ruin. I couldn't come to Lindon or Imladris then – and risk being captured on route, nor would my, I mean Tindómiel's father have risked his daughter in that manner. If I was captured... He would break my mind and learn everything; things I don't know I know yet."
"And in the face of that?"
She turned her face away. "I would hide. I'd be angry and hide away. Empowered in Sight and powerless to use my ability to help my father's people. I would... I would pray and beg Eru for a way to help."
Now, Elrond stayed silent. They resumed a calm rocking motion.
"I don't feel like her. If I was really ever her... I have left her behind. In Númenor. Please do not call me Tindómiel. If Minastauriel is not acceptable, then I trust my Lord will choose a better name for myself. But not Princess Tindómiel. I am still not convinced I ever was her, but I will accept proof fairly."
Giving her shoulders a light squeeze, Elrond waited another moment for any further comments. Finally – "You honour me, I thank you. I will inform you when I think of a suitable name or find evidence to gentle your worries. Now -"
He glanced at the door to the library then looked closely at her face, smiling when she offered a shaky smile first. "-Are you feeling well enough for your Tengwar lesson? Erestor will not doubt be returning soon."
Deep breaths in and out until her smile was no longer twisted with misery. "Yes. I am ready. I like learning it. I was, earlier, I thought I could ask – can I also have horse riding lessons?"
Elrond had no doubt heard the footsteps long before Minastauriel could. The carved door to library gently opened to reveal the returning Erestor.
"Lady Minastauriel, are you ready for your lesson?"
Smiling at both his niece and chief advisor, Elrond stood to leave. "I'll take my leave and let you concentrate on your Sindarin. I'll speak to the stable master about your future riding lessons soon."
Erestor's glance at the chest of letters as Elrond left reminded him to pass on any information if such was found, whilst his words themselves were addressed to his student. "Planning a trip, are you?"
"Not yet but it seems like a skill I shall have."
"Indeed," Erestor commented as he laid down a couple leather-bound tomes and a thick wad of parchment paper. "As is the ability to pronounce the term 'shall' and use it in the correct tense, which would be 'should'. Do you remember how to write them both? Consonants first, we'll sort out the vowels afterwards."
16th April
The morning found Elrond walking along a corridor, eagerly showing Erestor a very old letter from his brother.
"Look, look at this line. 'My daughter, Tindómiel, made her first formal appearance in court today on her fifth birthday. She's a brilliant child; she sang the lament of Lúthien though no one admits to teaching her it – she must have learnt it just from listening to her lullabies. I knew she was fond of this song though – she has commented before that – in my daughter's words - she was sad she couldn't meet the elven daughter of twilight, but she wasn't born yet'. We always thought this was a reference to Tinúviel but look at how Elros spelt it. Undómiel – who had yet to be born at this time. Tindómiel had Foresight." Erestor looked closely at the letter and could find no fault or ambiguity in the handwriting.
"Have you shown her this letter yet?"
"Not yet – I have settled most of her worries for now; I'd like to settle yours somewhat today at least. I will show this to her and Gandalf when he arrives, among other things. There are various obscure comments Elros included in his letters to me; including this comment here that references Vardamir turning four exactly eighteen moons after his sister did; despite all surviving public records I have personally checked saying clearly that Vardamir was the one who was born in the sixty-first year of the Second age. I've found another one I think is in regard to her absence. It's on one of these pages..." Flipping through the many sheets in his hands, he suddenly stilled at the same time as Erestor.
"-the sky, more magnificent than the stars. Upon us shines the Silmaril, which outshines the stars. Behold, elven people. Behold and ponder-"
The voice – Minastauriel's voice, naturally - then reduced into humming.
"I've not heard a song about the Silmaril before. Do you know she knew about the jewels?"
Elrond smiled, quickly ruffled through his papers, and handed a single sheet of paper to his old friend. "You trust there is no way she could have looked at the letters in a chest I have kept in my personal chambers for several thousands of years, with spells to keep the paper from degrading which by their nature prevent the box being accessed by anyone other than myself?"
"...Yes."
Wordlessly, Elrond gestured to the sheet now in Erestor's hand before strolling off, as smug as a canary-fed cat.
There, amongst the general contents of the letter, after a paragraph on the wellbeing of his newest son, it read: 'It is delightful my daughter enjoys singing as much as she does. I often can hear her before I see her – she'll sing to the furniture, her lunch, her clothes if she hasn't an audience. I've been turning some of the lighter parts of our history into bedtime stories; heavily changed in some cases as you'd imagine. She heard about the star of hope yesternight, and then this night I enter her chamber and there she is, half hanging out the window, singing to the star. I've included what lyrics I overheard below.'
Of course, there amongst the lyrics of the song, written around six thousand years ago and never heard since, were lines that matched exactly with the segment he had heard the mortal just sing.
She could have seen the song sang in the past by a vision he supposed.
Mithrandir would be there within a week.
He glanced up at the balcony the girl's voice was now chiming down from. "Stars, let it be so."
"Come with me to Númenor, ladadaa lala lah lah-" sang Minastauriel as she spun around her bedroom chamber whilst Turiel took away the remnants of her breakfast. She was in a delightful mood; she had awoken with a song in her head she could just about remember learning. Most of the lyrics must have been in a language she had since forgotten, but she could recall at least the meaning of some of the phrases, and she knew the tune. Even better, a quick glance out from her bedroom window showed the bush in full bloom.
Gandalf would be arriving soon, the buds on the shrubbery below her window were so, so close to blooming! She could hardly contain how excited she was, to the point of having to put considerable mental strength into focusing on anything else. She was behind on her reading list, she remembered. She was also trying hard not to consider the implications of knowing a song about 'coming to Númenor'.
Her grey eyes darted at the bedroom door, through which she could see her bookcase. Her vision did show her leaving through the veranda, which was accessible from her main room... Or perhaps she should make a quick note of all the questions she wanted to ask Gandalf?
Or mentally prepare herself for his verdict...
Time-travelling amnesiac Princess. Or no-one.
Perhaps she should pack her things up, just in case? She could hardly expect to be allowed to stay in such beautiful rooms if she was revealed to be no-one, not when they had perfectly lovely guest rooms a few floors up, even if her current rooms were bespoke...
Would her lessons continue? She had made enough progress with Sindarin that even she knew it was astonishing, but that was only verbally. In terms of written form, she felt she was rather behind, both in reading and particularly in writing it herself. Erestor had said he would continue tutoring regardless of her heritage.
Would she need to earn her keep? She knew Elrond opened his home readily to guests when they found their way to the hidden valley, but a few months stay was quite different to potentially staying there for years... Erestor had offered her the role of his apprentice, but what if that was unpaid and she then needed to pay for her room and food?
Just as her thoughts began to cause genuine panic, she was summoned to the Eastern Entrance. It was today! He was here! Darting as she did through the veranda, flowers bloomed around her as she passed.
He was exactly as she had envisioned him. Tall, grey and oh-so-unassuming. Gandalf.
The wandering wizard, the grey pilgrim.
Hastening her steps as she passed through the main hall doors towards the Eastern entrance, she called out a greeting. "May stars shine on our meeting, Gandalf. It is so good to see you again."
At her words, Gandalf turned, eyes twinkling as they met Minastauriel's own. "Again? Indeed, a star may shine bright upon our meeting, first that I am sure it is."
"Gandalf, allow me to introduce the young woman I spoke of in my recent letters. This is who is called the Lady Minastauriel, though she has given me the honour of choosing a new name for her soon. Lady Minastauriel; Gandalf." Elrond gestured to each in turn, watching Gandalf's expressions particularly closely.
Palm lifted to his sternum, he bowed his head, pointy hat bobbing in mimic. Minastauriel immediately responded in kind. "I've seen you in many visions – I feel as though I am greeting an old friend." She admitted.
Bushy eyebrows raised, in a way that felt very familiar to her, despite her now knowing this was their first meeting. "Of me? Really? What have you seen?"
The warm, curious cadence in his voice was exactly as she knew it would be. "Many things - some I recall even if I don't currently remember the vision itself. I-"
"Perhaps my friends would like to continue this conversation sat down comfortably, and not in a gateway?" Offered Elrond.
"Mm yes. I think the Lady Minastauriel has quite a lot to say. And I intend to hear every word and no doubt will form questions of mine for you to answer. My dear, please lead the way."
'Gandalf wants to listen to what I have to say! And ask me questions!'
She could barely pull her gaze away. They were sat in a comfortable sitting area, warm breeze playing with the thin curtains and the hem of Minastauriel's pale blue summer dress.
"Now that our wonderful host has gotten us comfortably sat to his content, let us hear what you say you already know of me."
"You make fireworks. You befriended a hobbit lass by the name of Belladonna Took, who married a Baggins and had one son named Bilbo. I know you will all but deliver an adventure right to Bilbo's front door in less than a decade's time. I know..." She bit her lip, gathered some gumption, and darted in close to his ear. Even then, mindful of the hearing of elves, she mouthed more than sounded out; "I know in Valinor, your true name is Olórin, student of Niënna".
Neither mortal nor Peredhel could recall ever seeing the wizard so speechless.
"Now that you have shocked Gandalf in the same manner you greet every other person you meet, perhaps some tea and we can begin."
At Elrond's words, Gandalf broke out of his temporary shock and harrumphed.
"Whilst I will never turn down Imladhrim hospitality, I hardly need time to begin. My lady, you have quite clearly been touched – blessed that is – by Eru. No, no – don't look so shocked; something similar occurred with Tuor, to my knowledge. Though..." Twinkling eyes peered closer at Minastauriel's face. "I don't think anyone could claim this level of blessing. There is an aura around you, bright as day. But not completely recent – I think some of this has been in place for a long time. In fact... hmmm. It appears you have been blessed twice, once to deliver you here, and once long before that."
"Oh I could have told you that. Wherever I am from, it is or was custom to bless babes in the name of Eru... Is that not a custom here? From your reactions, maybe I am missing something?"
Speaking delicately into a cup of tea, Elrond suggested that while he had never heard of such a custom in arda, who now could know the customs of Elros' wife, that she would have brought up her children in?
Grieving that Elrond had to bring that up so quickly, she asked the major question herself. "Is that something you can tell? If I am... related to certain people."
In a decidedly contrary move, Gandalf sent a flickering look between Peredhel and adaneth as he spoke. "Tea first, then yes – I will be able to tell. Rare does Eru ever directly involve Himself into the goings-on of these lands. Irrespective of who you are, for Him to send an entire woman... Hmmm. Tea first. Though remind me to ask you about Bel-la-don-a Tûk."
Gandalf took one last savouring sip of tea, emptying his cup for the third time. He finished off his last bite of his fourth bilberry jam tart with a small, polite hum of relish. He then looked over Minastauriel with the considering gaze of his piercing eyes for the... ahem... thirtieth time.
The wizard opened his mouth. She told herself not to get too excited, he was probably going to ask for another jam tart. The wizard would get to the matter at hand precisely when he meant to.
He was still looking at her.
Or was he watching her watching him?
"You speak Sindarin very well. Very well. Lord Elrond's letter mentioned you could only speak a handful words and a few sentences."
"Yes, I have good teachers and few distractions – since Lord Elrond's letter, I have had time to focus on learning Sindarin."
"Perhaps. Still, to go from a few words to this level of fluency in what? A matter of weeks, a few months... I can see you are very capable in understanding verbal Sindarin; you are not merely parroting taught responses like a young child. You are following along with what I am saying. Even with the greatest of teachers, which Elrond and Erestor are likely to be two of the most capable in Middle earth – someone without any language base cannot learn one in that time frame. If you knew a language beforehand, then yes you could get to reasonable fluency within a few months of devoted study... and therein lies our answer. I think it more likely you are, albeit unaware of it, remembering a language you once knew rather than learning it anew."
Fluency comes in various levels, and Gandalf spoke each sentence clearly and at a reasonable pace, with a pause here and there in case a specific word needed translation.
"We concluded as much, although… I already could not speak Sindarin before I came to Imladris; so Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir tell me." Minastauriel explained, pouring herself more tea.
"That is interesting. Hmm... Lord Elrond already informed me of what your Foresight can suffer you. Your eyesight for example. Perhaps it takes more from you the more you fight the visions further? Or your eyesight was only harmed after the majority of language was already stripped away?"
"Is that likely? Do all edain with the gift of Foresight share this price?"
In the face of Minastauriel's horror, Gandalf only laughed. "There are no edain who possess a one-hundredth of such power of Sight, let alone be able to resist a vision; which are rare as it is. They may see things in dreams, symbolic messages and alike but much of it is less visual and more a general feel of things; paths to take, dangers ahead, the inexplicable urge to pack an extra dagger... Or perhaps your loss of language as it was when you were in the forest; specifically, the loss of Sindarin; perhaps that was in exchange for travel from wherever you were to the Rhudaur? I hope you do not take an offence at my fascination – this is an unheard-of event."
Minastauriel brushed off the wizard's concerns – she was equally enthralled in the conversation. They were finally getting somewhere with the mysteries surrounding her. "Exchange – that is like a price, right? To arrive here? But a price to who – Eru?"
"A price to Eru Iluvater is possible...and who else could it be? Mankind has more will over their own fate than any other race but are more confined by time that any other race too. And certainly, giving someone a nudge on the right path is one thing, but for Eru to upend a child of Man's life as He has yours; and let me be clear there is no other who could have achieved such a thing; you would have to have agreed. There is a sort of Music about you that does collaborate this."
Minastauriel gaped and glanced at Elrond for a hint of how to respond. He looked annoyingly unruffled. "I, I think even with the loss of my memories, I would remember speaking to Eru Iluvater!" She exclaimed.
"Why so?"
Minastauriel's jaw dropped again at the quick response. This time, Elrond put a biscuit in her wide-opened mouth. Whilst smiling as benignly and innocently as ever.
"And further," the wizard continued, looking rather delighted at the turn of the conversation, "a price to pay to Eru? If such a thing was in place, that would infer it was not Eru's request that led you here; but yours."
Notes:
Context:
I mentioned this previously, but I'm copying it over for relevance: Unlike her original clothes, which were made using a synthetic elastic, her underwear was made with natural rubber derivatives so wasn't erased by Eä. However, the rubber plant is not known in this part of arda, so it is still a point of confusion.
There are some mentions of physical changes in Minastauriel's body, nothing drastic but I head canon that Elros' children and closer descendants would still have had some elven characteristics, such as slightly pointed ears.
There are also indications that the past is changing. My character has heard the songs by Oonagh (YouTube them, they are brilliant!) so retrospectively, Tindómiel was the one to sing them originally as Elrond believes he will find proof. And now, he has more proof – the past literally changed and now Elros did write about the songs in the early Second Age, after/before Elrond sort of created it in reverse. I think that half makes sense. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy but for a backstory instead. Minastauriel's actions now – via Elrond – are shaping her new past. Sorry if that still doesn't help explain.
Erestor is getting more convinced, at this point he wants it to be true as well.
The first blessing refers to her Baptism which is not a thing in Middle Earth or Valinor so what she vaguely remembers and is nonplussed about, is still a point of interest to everyone else. Consequently, they are equating it to the closest equivalent (Tuor). I'm not sure how exactly canon this is, but I think Tuor was seen to move 'in the will of Eru' and go to Gondolin the same way Frodo did when he offered to take the Ring to Mordor. (If anyone knows more about this interpretation, please can you let me know – I can't find where I first read it) So, Gandalf, Elrond etc view this as lowkey monumental. Elrond postulates that the first blessing was orchestrated by Elros' unknown wife, who culture is not given. Again, he's looking for reasons to believe his forgone conclusions. The second 'blessing' is how she got to Middle earth from our reality.
Who can remember how Minastauriel actually ended up in Middle Earth? I'm not saying Eru didn't have something to do with it, and I'm absolutely banking on the idea that a conversation with Eru could happen without anytime passing or without you recalling it, but I have told you how she arrived.
Glossary:
Amilessë: Literally 'mother-name', it is the name given to a person by their mother typically with prophetic interpretation. Elrond is using this as an explanation for Minastauriel remembering her brothers with names different to those of Tindómiel. We know the brothers are not the same people, but it would be a good reason why she remembers different names.
Belladonna Took – Bilbo's mother.
Erulissë and Eruanna are both ways to translate my own mum's name.
Olórin: Gandalf's name (Quenya in origin, inspired by the word olor meaning dream or vision) when he dwelt in Valinor, before coming to Middle earth, where he was a Maia and a student of Niënna.
Tuor: One of Elrond and Elros' biological grandparents. A hero of the First Age, he married Princess Idril of Gondolin and, according to some interpretations, was granted a place among the elves in Valinor including the lifespan. Other variations do not include this, but I like the idea of counterbalance where just as Luthien gave up her immortality to be with Beren, Tuor was granted his own to be with Idril. If you know more, please let me know 😊