The Findaráto Diaries by Fiondil

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Chapter 3: Star of Hope

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3: Star of Hope

Perhaps my greatest emotion in those early days was one of frustration. I clearly remember from my previous life being able to do such things as move my fingers or sit up or even walk, but when I attempted to put them into practice, more often than not, nothing happened. Yet, neither Olórin nor Tindomerel seemed unduly upset by my lack of progress in integrating my fëa to my hröa. Still, small victories came — a finger moved, a knee bent, a word was spoken clearly and correctly. I took what I could from these and hoped for more.

My days were often spent sleeping, or if I was awake, working on the connections. My nights, though, were spent outside beneath the stars, for I feared the darkness of the cottage even with every candle lit and the Maiar quickly learned to have me outside before sunset. They set up a small bower where I lay throughout the night gazing up into the heavens. One of the Maiar would sit by me and tell me the names of the stars and their patterns — Carnil, Alcarinquë, Elemmirë, Menelmacar, Wilwarin, and the Valacirca were known to me, or rather, the memory of their names floated up from the darkness of my subconscious once they were pointed out to me.

There was one star, though, that I did not recognize....

****

"What’s that?" Finrod asked, lifting an arm slightly and pointing to the east.

It was nearly dawn and many of the stars had already faded into the bluing sky, but one star shone brightly, almost defiantly, against the brightening sky.

"Ah... that’s Tancol," Tindomerel said as she sat patiently beside the Reborn’s couch. She had spent the night pointing out the different stars and regaling Finrod with tales of their creation. "It’s also known as Eärendil’s Star and in Sindarin it is often called Gil-Estel."

"Gil-Estel..." Finrod repeated softly to himself, smiling. He turned to the Maia. "Why?"

She gave him an enquiring look and he tried again. He had noticed that both Maiar would purposely not answer questions unless he spoke in complete sentences. It was frustrating, but he understood their purpose: it helped him practice speaking.

"Wh-why is it called ‘G-gil-Estel’?" he asked, stuttering a bit as he tried to get his tongue to work properly. "Why is it... hope?"

For a moment Tindomerel did not answer, debating with Lord Námo as to how much she should tell him. *He will not understand,* she bespoke to her lord. *He barely remembers who he is yet.*

*True,* the Lord of Mandos replied, *but he has asked and therefore he should be told as much as he is able to take in at this time. Do not bother with details, Tindomerel. Keep it simple, as if explaining to an elfling, which, for all intents and purposes, he is.*

Tindomerel nodded, thinking of the times when her duties took her to the Mardi Winiron and she had to deal with actual elflings always demanding answers to their questions. She turned her attention back to Finrod who lay there waiting patiently (as if he had no other choice!) for her to speak.

"Some years after you died," she said, speaking Sindarin, for Finrod seemed to remember that language better than Quenya, "the Elves and Edain of Beleriand were sorely beset by Morgoth. Eärendil, son of Turgon’s daughter, Idril, and her Mortal husband, Tuor son of Huor of the House of Hador, was a great sailor and he built a ship called Vingilot...."

"Lothwing," Finrod translated automatically into Sindarin, for the Maia had used the name by which Eärendil’s ship had been know to all.

Tindomerel smiled. "Yes, Lothwing. He built the ship and set sail in search of Valinor, for he wished to find the Valar and plead for help for his people."

"D-did he... su...su...." He stopped in frustration, for he couldn’t quite remember the word he wanted. He suddenly felt tired as Anar rose above the low hills to the east and Eärendil’s Star faded from view.

"Succeed?" Tindomerel offered and Finrod nodded gratefully. "Yes, he did, and as a sign to the beleaguered peoples of Beleriand, the Valar set Vingilot into the heavens, placing the one Silmaril that...."

Finrod’s body jerked and there was a look of horror on his face as he started thrashing about. He tried to scream, but only a thin wailing sound came from his throat. Immediately, Lord Námo himself was there, taking the ellon into his arms and rocking him, softly singing an ancient lullaby, one that was familiar to Finrod. Slowly, his spasms ceased and he eventually lay quiescent in the Vala’s arms, giving a loud sigh as he drifted off to sleep.

Námo gave a distraught looking Tindomerel a wry smile. "Well, we know what not to mention," he said as he took Finrod inside the cottage and settled him into his bed, tucking the covers around him.

"I never thought...." Tindomerel began but Námo stopped her protestations with a shake of his head.

"It’s not your fault, my dear," the Lord of Mandos said. "Connections are being made and unfortunately not all his memories will be pleasant. Hopefully, next time he will be able to listen to the entire tale without becoming anxious."

Tindomerel nodded, somewhat appeased. "How long do you think it will take him not to fear the darkness?" she asked.

Námo shrugged. "I have no idea. That even candlelight does not calm him is... puzzling. He does not fear the night, only darkness. The night and the stars hold no terror for him." He gazed down at the sleeping ellon, a look of tenderness crossing his stern visage as he gently brushed the elf’s hair. Finrod’s only response was a soft sigh and a further snuggling under the covers. "Only time will tell, as with all things concerning the Reborn," the Vala added, giving the Maia a significant look. "Let us see what his reaction is tomorrow when he again sees Tancol."

****

Finrod woke later that morning wondering how he had gotten back inside the cottage. He remembered listening to Tindomerel telling him about... someone... and then, nothing. He frowned at the thought, wondering what it could mean. Before he could meditate further on the subject, the door to the cottage opened and Olórin stepped in, carrying a tray. He smiled when he saw that Finrod was awake.

"Good morning," the Maia said brightly. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

Finrod nodded and managed to sit up with just a little help from the Maia. He felt very pleased with himself and Olórin’s smile told him that the Maia was equally proud of his efforts. While Olórin spoon-fed him his porridge — his favorite dish and one he looked forward to having every day — he turned over in his mind the events of the previous night. He clearly remembered watching the stars fade away one by one until only one very bright star remained in the sky. He remembered asking about that star and something of what Tindomerel told him.

"T-tancol," he said suddenly in between mouthfuls of porridge.

Olórin put the spoon down and gave the ellon an appraising look. "What can you tell me about it?" he asked.

Finrod frowned a bit, trying to remember. "Estel," he finally said. "It is... estel." He gave the Maia a puzzled look. "Why?"

"It was a sign to the Elves and Men of Middle-earth that the Valar had not forgotten them nor would forsake them in their hour of need," Olórin answered, deciding to avoid any mention of Silmarils or Eärendil. "It was a sign that the Valar still loved them. It was meant to give them hope. It still is."

Finrod contemplated the Maia’s words. He thought there was more to it than that, but he found he did not care. It was enough to know what its purpose for being there was. "Hope..." he muttered. Then he gave Olórin an uncertain glance. "The V-valar love me?"

Olórin smiled warmly, leaning over to brush his hand over the ellon’s head. "Yes, child. The Valar love you. They always have and always will... as do I."

He felt inexplicably warmed by those words and his sense of gratitude knew no bounds. He did not remember much of himself, neither the great deeds he had performed nor the evils which he may have committed, but he now knew one thing of grave importance: he was loved and nothing else mattered.

****

Tancol: (Quenya) Signifer, ‘the significant star’, i.e. Venus. This is an attested name for the planet, literally meaning ‘sign-bearer’.

Gil-Estel: (Sindarin) Star of Hope.

Mardi Winiron: (Quenya) Halls of Children in Mandos.

Lothwing: The Sindarin equivalent of Vingilot (in full Vingilótë): ‘Foam-flower’ [loth ‘flower’ + lenited form of gwing ‘foam, spindrift, spume’].