The Findaráto Diaries by Fiondil

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Chapter 27: Herendil

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27: Herendil

Forming friendships with the nobles of Atar’s court was perhaps the hardest thing for me to do as a Reborn. The older ones, of course, remembered me from before, and they were less eager to curry favor with me, being already established within the power structure of my atar’s court. The younger courtiers, on the other hand, were a different breed. None of them were old enough to remember the Light of the Trees. The tale of the Darkening and the events that followed were but rumors to them, bedtime tales told to them as elflings by parents who were still reeling from the shock of those times. And then, there was the cold reality of the War of Wrath and the many ellyn who did not return.

Herendil was one of the younger nobles, born in the final year of the Trees, growing up under starlight. His oldest son had been born around the time that I was hurrying northward from Nargothrond to help my brothers when the Dagor Bragollach fell upon us. It was in vain, of course, for both died and Dorthonion and Ladros were forever lost to us. And but for Barahir and his valiant Men, I, too, would have been lost. Yet no rumor of any of this reached the shores of Valinor. The people of Aman, or at least the Eldar, remained ignorant of those events and all that followed.

Befriending Herendil was the first step towards taking control of my life as a prince of Eldamar. With his friendship I began the slow process of creating my own power base within my atar’s court, though I did not see it that way at the time. And when I met his surviving son, Aldundil, little did any of us realize how intertwined our lives would someday become....

****

Finrod felt unaccountably nervous as he fiddled with the tableware, waiting for Herendil’s arrival. He was not sure why he was feeling nervous. After all, he could well remember when he held similar dinners either in Nargothrond or when he was still living in Aman. Inviting one of the courtiers to dine with him was nothing new, yet, this seemed different somehow and he was at a loss to figure out why. He forced himself to stop rearranging the flowers gracing the middle of the table and was relieved when there was a knock on the door and Amandur, acting as his guard, admitted Herendil into his sitting room. He was surprised to see that the lord was not alone.

"Forgive me, Highness, for the imposition," Herendil said with a bow, "but I wished to make you known to my son, Aldundil, and I thought perhaps...."

Finrod looked at the young ellon standing by his atar. He had the dark brown hair typical of the Noldor, though there were golden highlights that bespoke of Vanyarin ancestry. His eyes were greenish-blue and Finrod could sense the depth of sorrow and even guilt that lay behind the clear gaze which the ellon gave him. Aldundil held himself as a warrior and Finrod remembered that both he and his brother had fought in the War of Wrath. In spite of the sadness that seemed to emanate from the ellon, Finrod liked what he saw.

"Amandur," he said, turning to the guard, "please have another setting brought. I think there is enough food for the three of us." He gave Herendil and Aldundil a sardonic grin as Amandur bowed and closed the door. "The cooks think I don’t eat enough and made sure that there was enough to feed half of Tirion."

Herendil chuckled and Aldundil smiled. Finrod stood there feeling a bit uncertain. "Ah... we need another chair, don’t we?"

"Allow me, Highness," Aldundil said and at Finrod’s nod, he went and brought a chair to the table while Finrod and Herendil shifted the plates about to make room for him.

"I do apologize, Highness," Herendil said. "I know I should have consulted with you first or waited...."

"It’s all right, my Lord Herendil," Finrod said graciously, "I do not mind, truly, though now I feel decidedly outnumbered."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, Highness," Aldundil said sincerely, "I will leave and perhaps on another occasion...."

"No, no," Finrod protested, waving a hand in dismissal. "I am fine. Please, sit and have some wine while we wait for Amandur to return. Then we’ll eat." He proceeded to pour wine into cut crystal glasses for them all. Luckily, he had a set of six glasses along with a matching carafe that sat on a sideboard, though this was the first time he had used any of them. Father and son sipped on the wine and Herendil nodded, smiling in appreciation.

"A fine vintage," he said. "If I’m not mistaken, this must be Yavannalimpë from Lord Nolondur’s vineyards."

"Who is Lord Nolondur?" Finrod asked. "I don’t recall meeting him."

"Nor would you," Herendil said, "unless he happens to come to Tirion. Nolondur is a Vanyarin lord attached to Ingwë’s court. He is also an excellent vintner and his wines are some of the best."

"Nolondur...." Finrod muttered, his brow furrowed as he tried to capture an elusive memory, for Herendil’s description of the lord sparked an image in his mind of an older ellon with the fair hair of the Vanyar. "He... he has a daughter...."

"Yes," Herendil said, giving him a shrewd look. "Lirulin is her name. She is the wife of your cousin, Intarion."

"Intarion," Finrod said, feeling out the name, but there was nothing there, no image to recall, and he shook his head. "Sorry," he said apologetically, "sometimes the memories just don’t come when you want them to."

"It must be difficult for you, Highness," Aldundil said sympathetically.

Finrod shrugged. "It goes with the territory," he replied. "Lord Irmo warned me that not every memory will return and there is no rhyme or reason as to when they do."

"My son, Vorondil...." Herendil started to say and then stopped, shaking his head. "Forgive me," he said, "I promised myself I would not ask the questions that haunt me about my son’s fate."

Finrod stared at his wine glass, biting his lips. "Even if you were to ask, I could not answer," he said. "My memories of my time in Mandos are scattered and in disarray. I can tell you little of what it is like, save that I know I was happy and content and felt neither pain nor sorrow. You must take comfort in the knowledge that Vorondil is happy and is being well looked after by Lord Námo’s Maiar."

"I suppose I just wonder if he misses us as much as we miss him," Herendil said with a sigh. "Were you impatient to be released so you could join your family once again?"

Finrod shook his head, smiling. "The Dead have no memory of their former lives while in Mandos. Vorondil neither waits for release nor feels any impatience. For him, Mandos is all he knows and all he has ever known."

Both father and son sat there in shock. "But... but... why?" Aldundil stuttered.

Finrod gave them a sympathetic look. "It is a gift from Lord Námo that we remember nothing except our names. The burden of our memories is lifted from us for a time so we may heal in fëa. Only when our fëar are healed are we re-embodied and our memories returned to us, although not all at once, as I said."

Silence stretched between them for a time as the two nobles pondered what Finrod was telling them. A knock on the door broke their reverie as Amandur entered, bearing a tray with additional crockery and utensils. Finrod thanked him as he laid out the tableware in front of Aldundil and the guard bowed and retreated from the room with the empty tray. Then Finrod rose to go to the sideboard where covered dishes sat on racks under which were small candles meant to keep the food warm.

"Allow me, Highness," Aldundil said, rising quickly and Finrod nodded, retaking his seat while Aldundil went to the sideboard, removing the cover from one of the dishes and bringing it to the table, acting as a server. When all the dishes were presented and their selections made, Aldundil returned to his seat and the three began to eat.

Trying to come up with a safe topic of conversation, Finrod remembered something that Herendil had said that day in the garden, and turned to Aldundil. "I understand that you have recently become betrothed," he said.

"Yes," Aldundil said, looking somewhat guilty, and did not elaborate.

Finrod was surprised, for, in his experience, people who were betrothed were generally more enthusiastic about it.

"He is betrothed to Lady Calalindalë, whom you met," Herendil said, filling in the silence. "The wedding will be in a few months."

"Oh, yes," Finrod replied. He gave Aldundil a shrewd look. "You don’t seem particularly happy about it."

Aldundil gave a start. "Oh, no," he exclaimed. "It’s just that... I... I wish my brother were here to share in... in my happiness."

Yet Finrod detected regret and guilt underlying the ellon’s words and thought perhaps Aldundil blamed himself for his brother’s death. He could understand that, for he had vague memories of feeling equally guilty that he had not reached his own brothers in time to save them. He glanced at Herendil who gave him a shake of his head. Leaning back in his chair, Finrod picked up his wine glass and took a sip before speaking, choosing his words carefully. "Since my re-embodiment, I have learned that I am not as important as I once thought myself." He paused and held up his hand, giving the two ellyn a wry smile when they both started to deny his words. "We think we are indispensable and without us nothing of importance can ever happen in Arda again. But, of course, that isn’t true. For over five hundred years, Life went on without me. People fell in love and married, quarreled and reconciled, children were born, wars were fought and won or lost, all without my guiding hand. When Vorondil is released from Mandos, he will learn this lesson as well. He may resent missing out on such things as your wedding or the birth of your children, but, in time, he will accept it as part of the price he paid in dying, even as I have."

"Nothing will be as he remembers, though," Aldundil protested, "and that distresses me the most, that he will return to a... a world he will not recognize."

"So it was with me," Finrod said with a nod, "yet I am slowly learning to accept what is rather than mourn for what is not. Life cannot stop for the Living, even if it has for the Dead, at least for a time. So live your life, Aldundil. Marry and find joy in your wife and any children that may be born to you and store up memories to share with your brother. When he is released, he will need all your love and support to help him make the necessary adjustments."

Aldundil nodded, though he did not appear convinced. Herendil leaned over and put a hand on his son’s arm, giving him a warm smile. "Prince Findaráto is correct, yonya," he said. "I do not think Vorondil would want you to stop living just because he is not here."

Aldundil sighed and gave Finrod an apologetic look. "Forgive me, Highness. I did not mean to dampen the mood."

"Do not concern yourself, Aldundil," Finrod said with a smile. "Perhaps we should change the subject to something less... um... fraught with emotions."

"Do you have any particular topic in mind, Highness?" Herendil asked.

For a moment, Finrod sat thinking furiously, trying to come up with a safe topic. He would have been happy to share war stories with Aldundil but thought it would not be politic given the circumstances. He shrugged, and asked the first thing that came to mind. "Do either of you hunt?"

As it turned out, Herendil was an avid falconer, though Aldundil was less enthusiastic. "I’m afraid I lost my taste for such things during the war," he explained.

Finrod nodded. "I can understand that," he said sympathetically. "After the Battle of Sudden Flame, I no longer hunted with my cousins. Of course, traveling across the breadth of Beleriand to visit Nelyafinwë or Macalaurë was too dangerous after Melkor broke the Leaguer and took much of the north. On the few occasions when I would visit Doriath, where my sister resided, I would hunt with Elu Thingol and Celeborn, but otherwise, I didn’t bother."

"And now?" Herendil asked.

"Well, now it’s different," Finrod said. "Of course, I’ve only gone hunting once with my atar, and, when I was living in the mountains, I had no choice but to hunt. I have not yet hunted with falcons, though I recall owning several when I resided in Beleriand."

"Perhaps we can arrange a hunting trip," Herendil suggested. "I can invite some of the other nobles to join us."

"I guess," Finrod said, sounding uncertain.

Herendil gave him a knowing smile. "I will not invite Nambarauto or Selmacas," he said, "if you do not want me to."

Finrod sighed. "It’s not that, exactly," he said. "It’s just that I still feel uncomfortable in a crowd. I’m always afraid I’ll do or say something... er... elflingish and embarrass myself and my atar."

"Why don’t just the two of you go, then?" Aldundil suggested. "Forget everyone else. There is nothing that says you need to take an entire party of people on a hunt."

"I’ll need to take at least one guard," Finrod said. "Atar won’t allow me beyond the palace walls without one."

Herendil nodded. "I can bring my chief falconer, if you will, so as to make the party even."

Finrod nodded. "You know, I don’t remember if Atar has a chief falconer or if there is even a royal mews."

Both Herendil and Aldundil chuckled. "Indeed there is," Herendil said, "and if you’d like, I’ll take you there tomorrow."

"That would be fine," Finrod said and arrangements were made to meet after breakfast as there was no court scheduled and Finrod was actually free until after lunch. "I will ask Atar when would be a good time for us to hunt," Finrod added. "I think I will need his permission to leave the city, anyway." He gave them a grimace and both Herendil and Aldundil looked sympathetic.

"I am sure your atar will be delighted to give his permission for the hunt," Herendil said. "And if not, well... we will think of something else to do."

****

As it happened, Arafinwë was not only delighted, but overjoyed when Finrod approached him at breakfast the next morning about the hunt. "I think I will accompany you to the mews," he said. "I have not been there in quite some time myself."

"Do you want to go with us on the hunt?" Finrod asked.

Arafinwë shook his head. "No. I think you and Herendil should go alone as planned. You do not need me around as a chaperone."

"No, just Amandur or one of the other guards," Finrod said with a scowl.

"You’ll need someone to help with the birds," Eärwen pointed out gently. "If you think of Amandur as just another hunting companion rather than a guard I think you’ll enjoy yourself more."

Finrod nodded. "So, where’s a good place for hunting with falcons and when can we go?" he asked.

"If Herendil is amenable, you could go this morning," Arafinwë said. "As to where to hunt... Most people generally take their hunting birds to the park that you went through on your way to the mountains, though others prefer to go further afield. I think it would be best if you stick to the park for now." He gave Finrod a meaningful look and the prince nodded, giving a resigned sigh.

Afterwards, Finrod and Arafinwë met Herendil on the way to the mews. He was accompanied by his chief falconer, Sorondur. He appeared to be a competent ellon, wearing a dark green leather vest over trews and shirt. Over the left breast of the vest was stitched an emblem of an eagle in flight, which Finrod knew meant that Sorondur was a Manwendur, serving Lord Manwë as much as he served Lord Herendil. He was, surprisingly enough, a Vanya.

"My wife is a Noldo, attached to Lord Herendil’s household," Sorondur explained when he surmised the prince’s surprise at seeing him.

"When Ingwë led his people to Vanyamar," Herendil added, "my anatar was able to convince Sorondur to remain here with us."

"Melulissë did not wish to leave Tirion," Sorondur said, "and I loved her too much to depart from her. Lord Manwë gave me his blessing to remain in service to Lord Herendil’s family."

"I told Findaráto that I would prefer that you hunt in the Tarwa Finweva," Arafinwë told Herendil.

The noble nodded in understanding. "I figured you would not wish for your son to... er... wander too far," he said with a smile and Arafinwë returned it with his own smile.

"Atar says we can go hunting this morning," Finrod said, immediately amending his words, cringing mentally at how elflingish he’d sounded just then, "that is, if you have no other plans, my lord."

"None, Highness," Herendil said with a smile. "I think it is a fine morning for a hunt."

Sorondur nodded. "Indeed, my lord anticipated you and had me bring our falcons in the hopes that you might be amenable to hunting this morning."

Arafinwë chuckled. "Let us go to the mews then and find a bird for Findaráto," he said. "You will need to return by noon as I have a council meeting scheduled for this afternoon and I wish Findaráto to attend."

As they went, Sorondur took the opportunity to ask Finrod about his experiences with hunting with falcons. "I hunted with them in Beleriand," the prince replied, "and I recall how to handle them, so you needn’t worry on my account."

Thus, it was not long before Finrod was making his acquaintance with a peregrine falcon named Veryahonda who accepted his overtures willingly. Soon after, he, Herendil, and Sorondur were riding through the city with their birds while Amandur followed, his eyes ever vigilant. They made their way into the park and Finrod found himself actually enjoying being with Herendil and Sorondur as they wandered through the enclosure, letting their birds hunt. Herendil kept their conversation light, regaling Finrod with tales of hunting misadventures among the nobles of the court, bringing much hilarity to their group. Sorondur spoke about some of the birds he had raised and trained and his service to Lord Manwë. Finrod told them of hunting with his cousins in Beleriand during the Long Peace and his finding Bëor and his people.

"Aldundil spoke of them when he returned from the war," Herendil said, "as did Nambarauto. My son had nothing but praise for them, especially for their loyalty and bravery. Nambarauto, though, was not too impressed." He gave Finrod a sardonic grin.

"They are a marvel," Finrod said fervently. "Like yet unlike the Eldar and true Eruhíni, no less than we."

"I was present when Eärendil was brought before the Valar," Herendil said. "He was quite eloquent in his pleas for aid on behalf of the Elves and Atani."

"So I have been told," Finrod said. "Oh, look! I think Veryahonda found something."

They continued hunting until nearly noon and then returned to the city. Finrod bade Herendil and Sorondur farewell at the mews with promises to go hunting again soon. "I will see you at court tomorrow, Highness," Herendil said with a bow.

"I look forward to seeing you there, my lord," Finrod replied and was pleasantly surprised when he realized that he meant it.

As he and Amandur made their way back to the palace, the young guard ventured to speak. "I believe you enjoyed yourself today, my prince."

Finrod gave him a bright smile. "I believe you are right, Amandur. I did."

When Finrod joined his parents for lunch, they were pleased to see their son looking so relaxed and they both hid smiles when they realized he was happily humming a merry tune as he sipped his soup.

****

Words are Quenya.

Yavannalimpë: (Quenya) Yavanna-wine; cf. the attested Yavannamírë ‘Yavanna-jewel’ which is the name of a tree.

Manwendur: Servant of Manwë, particularly, one who was devoted to that Vala. It was applied especially to those persons, or families, among the Vanyar who actually entered Manwë’s service and in return received instruction from him; cf. the attested word Aulendur ‘Servant of Aulë’, given to those persons, or families, among the Noldor who entered Aulë’s service [See ‘The Shibboleth of Fëanor’,Note 61, Peoples of Middle-earth, HoME XII].

Tarwa Finweva: Finwë Park, literally, ‘the garden/enclosure belonging to Finwë’.

Veryahonda: Bold-hearted (one).

Eruhíni: Children of Eru, i.e. Elves and Mortals.