The Findaráto Diaries by Fiondil

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Chapter 4: Facing the Darkness

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4: Facing the Darkness

Days passed and the nights, too. My ability to function improved and a day came when I was able to walk out of the cottage on my own to greet the stars. I still refused to remain indoors during the night, and I could not understand my aversion to the darkness. Neither of my caregivers would explain it even when I asked.

‘You must come to that knowledge on your own, child,’ was the usual answer to any questions about myself that I might ask. Of the world and my surroundings they were willing to speak, of myself they would not. Memory was slow in coming and most of it came in the form of dreams, some beautiful, others not.

And always, I stared at that one last star shining in the early morning before the sun rose and wondered....

****

Finrod sat looking up into the night sky as the stars faded from view one by one until only Eärendil’s Star remained. It was some days since Tindomerel’s abortive attempt to tell him the story about it. He vaguely remembered her tale, but something about it made him uneasy and he shied away from the memory, nor would he ask the Maiar for a retelling. Still, he could not keep his eyes off it, it’s scintillating beauty piercing him to the very core of his fëa and every time he saw it, he felt a rising sense of... Hope.

Yes, that is what it was — Hope. There were days when he was sunk in despair, wondering if he would ever get used to his hröa, feeling awkward and unsure and just plain embarrassed when his coordination left him flailing about. His two Maiar attendants were patience personified, but it did not help his mood, which fluctuated from one extreme to another. Yet, all he had to do was look upon this one star and he would feel calm and hopeful, believing that all would be well in the end. He began to think of it as ‘his star’. The Maiar were amused by this but indulged him.

"Soon Tancol will disappear for a time," Olórin said one night as he and Finrod sat in the bower waiting for the morning.

Finrod turned to the Maia in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that for a short space of time your star will not be visible, but when it appears again, it will be in the west and you will be able to see it shortly after sunset."

"Why?" Finrod demanded, suddenly growing angry. How dare his star do such a thing!

"It is the way of things, child," Olórin said calmly. "Eärendil’s Star is both a morning and an evening star. It is as the Valar decreed."

"They had no right!" Finrod nearly screamed. How could the Valar be so cruel, taking away his star like that?

Olórin gave the ellon a surprised look and then nodded, as if coming to certain conclusions. "They had every right, Findaráto," he said somewhat coldly and the Elf shivered involuntarily. "They are, after all, the makers of all you see around you, including the stars. In one thing only they had no hand, the making of the Firstborn and Mortals. All else, though, is a product of their own imaginings."

Finrod stared at the Maia for some moments, digesting his words, then he returned his gaze upon Gil-Estel, but in the intervening time the star had faded into the blue and Anar was now above the horizon. He burst into tears. Olórin took him into his embrace and rocked him.

"There, there," he said soothingly. "Do not weep. Your star will return, I promise."

But Finrod refused to be consoled and would not eat the breakfast Tindomerel had prepared for him. Both Maiar sighed as the ellon curled himself into a ball on his bed, resolutely closing his eyes, refusing to acknowledge their presence. Eventually he fell into a fitful doze and then into true sleep as the day advanced. The Maiar decided not to waken him, figuring that his hröa’s own needs would do that for them. Yet, he continued to sleep and as the afternoon continued towards evening the Maiar held a discussion.

"Should we take him outside?" Tindomerel asked Olórin as they watched the slow, even breathing of the Reborn, his eyes only barely opened in sleep.

"I am inclined to leave him where he is," Olórin answered.

"Yet if he awakens in the night...." Tindomerel said doubtfully.

"He must face the darkness."

Both Maiar turned to see Lord Námo there and gave him their obeisance. The Vala acknowledged them with a nod but his gaze fell upon the still sleeping ellon. He shook his head, his expression one of amusement. "They never cease to amaze, do they?" he asked the Maiar and Olórin chuckled while Tindomerel merely smiled.

"They are a constant source of delight," Olórin said, "even when they are being their most obstreperous."

"Indeed," Námo agreed. He stepped forward and placed a hand on the ellon’s forehead, gently soothing it, for even in his sleep Finrod appeared to be frowning. "He needs to face the darkness," the Vala said again. "He cannot go forward until he does."

The Maiar grimaced but said nothing. They knew the truth of their lord’s words, but their fondness and even love for the Elf in their care made them wish he did not have to undergo such a trial. Námo understood their feelings and did not berate them for it; it was those very sentiments that made them such good caregivers of these once lost souls.

"If he has not awakened by the time Anar sets, light every candle," he ordered them. "If he should awaken in the night, perhaps they will help."

"They didn’t seem to when we did it before," Tindomerel reminded him.

"I know," Námo said, "but perhaps now that he is stronger he will not react so aversely."

"We can but hope," Olórin said quietly as the Vala faded from view.

****

Finrod dreamed.

At first, it was a nice dream: he was walking across a field with friends. He couldn’t quite make them out and their names escaped him, but he knew them to be friends and he felt safe with them. They walked in companionable silence across meadowland already turning brown under an autumn sun. He was unsure of their destination, if they even had one, but he knew that they were traveling together for a reason, though he could not remember why. He happened to glance down and saw a ring on his left forefinger, a ring composed of twin serpents and a crown of golden flowers that one upheld and the other devoured. Something deep within him stirred in an attempt to be recognized but then it faded from his mind. When he looked back up, the scene had changed.

Now he and his companions were in a dark hall, and there was someone there, someone unseen yet felt — cold, inimical and... evil. Finrod stared into the darkness before him but he could see nothing at first. For some reason he glanced down at the ring, noticing the way the emerald eyes of the serpents glowed as if from an inner light. When he looked up again, he saw another pair of eyes, red and glowing in the darkness and for the first time since the dream began Finrod felt terror.

His screams rent the twilight.

"Let’s take him outside," Olórin said as he started to scoop the ellon into his arms.

Before he could gather the Elf into his embrace, though, Finrod woke fully though his eyes were blank with terror. He stumbled out of the bed, not even seeing the two Maiar. His screams never stopped and he was flailing about in an attempt to escape from something or someone only he could see. The Maiar tried to calm him, but he would not let them near him, backing up out of their reach, falling over a chair and then crawling away, all the while screaming in panic and terror.

And then, Námo was there, though Finrod did not see him. The Vala stooped down and gently picked him up, holding him tight against his chest as Finrod started flailing about. The screams died and became moans and sobs and indistinct gurglings.

"Face the darkness, child," the Lord of Mandos said quietly, "but know that you do not face it alone."

He motioned to Tindomerel with a nod of his head and the Maia quickly uprighted the chair that Finrod had stumbled over so Námo could sit. Finrod clung to him as if to a lifeline, his eyes resolutely shut. Námo glanced down at the ellon and even in the uneven flickering of candlelight, the two Maiar could see the unconditional love and compassion in his expression.

"Open your eyes, Findaráto," Námo commanded softly.

Finrod tried to resist the command but could not and slowly, reluctantly, he complied, finding himself staring into the amaranthine eyes of the Lord of Mandos, reflecting candlelight.

"It is time to face the darkness, child," Námo said again and held him tightly when the ellon started to moan in terror. "Do not fear, for I am with thee, as are Olórin and Tindomerel. See, they guard thee and will let no harm come to thee. It is only a memory, Findaráto. It cannot harm thee, but thou must confront it if thou wishest to be free of it and the terror it holds for thee."

He sat the ellon up so that Finrod was leaning against his chest. Finrod saw the room ablaze with light as a myriad of candles glowed warmly around him. "That’s it," Námo said soothingly. "Breathe slowly and see that there is naught here to afright thee. The darkness is not absolute."

"I...it was so dark," Finrod rasped, his throat sore from his screams. "Only eyes... eyes in the dark...."

"Shhh...." Námo said soothingly, gently kneading the ellon’s shoulders in an attempt to calm him. "A memory only. See, no eyes in the dark, just candlelight."

Finrod could feel his heart rate slowing along with his breathing and soon he was calm again. Still, the darkness infringing upon the borders of the candlelight disturbed him. "Could... could we go outside, please?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, feeling somehow defeated but not caring.

"Come then," Námo said, standing up and motioning Finrod towards the door. "Let us go outside to greet the stars and Isil and we will talk."

Finrod breathed a sigh of relief as they went outside and sat in the bower. Anar had only just set and there was still enough light so that the stars were not yet visible. Námo put an arm around Finrod’s shoulders to give him comfort. He could see the ellon was still distraught.

"Tell me," he said quietly, "as much as thou wilt."

For a moment Finrod did not speak, but slowly he began to describe his dream. As he spoke, more and more details came to the fore and he realized that he was reliving a memory of the last days of his life. He looked up at the Vala sitting calmly next to him.

"It was so terrible...." he started to say, but Námo hushed him, gathering him into his arms.

"I know," the Vala said quietly as he gently rocked him, "but it is done and thou’rt safe." He softly began singing an ancient lullaby as the heavens above turned indigo. Varda’s stars blossomed forth and Isil rose. Námo looked up and spied Tilion looking down from his great height at the erstwhile King of Nargothrond sleeping in the arms of the Lord of Mandos and the two shared a smile.

****

Note: A fuller description of this scene between Finrod and Námo can be found in my Tapestry story ‘CONTEST: Power Play’.