The Findaráto Diaries by Fiondil

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Chapter 32: Haunting the Gates

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32: Haunting the Gates

The Gates of Return. A symbol of a new life and a new beginning. Yet, they also symbolize an ending — the ending of death, for death comes in stages, at least for the Eldar. There is the physical death of the hröa, however that might come about. That is the first and shortest stage of the process. This is followed by death of self-delusions as we undergo Judgment and our sins are laid out before us, our self-lies and self-cheats and just plain selfishness all uncovered and revealed in the cold light of the Valar’s will... and Eru’s. This, in many ways, is a more excruciating form of death than whatever physical death we might have suffered. Yet, it is over with at last and then comes the longest phase of death: death of memory as we are put to sleep for a time and all that remains is our self-identity, and not even that, but just our names with no history attached to them.

How long this phase of death lasts is anyone’s guess and no two Elves remain in this state of amnesia for the same length of time. Some stay in it longer than others, unaware and uncaring of anything but Now, for time as the mirroanwi know it is meaningless to the inhabitants of Mandos. Yet, this is not the last phase of death. There is one more... the death of our former lives.

And that is what the Gates of Return symbolize. When we walk through them to meet our family and friends we put an end to our deaths and all that went before it. It is not an easy ending, for we cling to what is known and fear what is unknown. Even death itself is a safer haven than what lies before us on the other side of the Gates....

****

The next morning, the Maiar escorted Finrod to the south gate of Valmar, rather than to the expected west gate. "We have our reasons," Ingil said quietly and such was his tone that Finrod knew that any further questioning on his part would elicit even vaguer and less helpful answers, so he let the matter drop. Once beyond the gate, they continued along the southern road for a time and then moved off the road to head northwest where they eventually met up with the western road leading to Lórien. The entire trip was done in virtual silence save for when Ingil or one of the other Maiar would signal a halt for the day. Finrod’s mood remained pensive, almost passive, doing whatever he was told by the Maiar without protest or any real show of emotion. He ignored the looks of concern on the Maiar’s faces as he went about the task of gathering firewood or water or whatever. He spoke in monosyllables when he spoke at all and only when directly addressed by the Maiar.

Thus, they reached Lórien early in the evening three days after leaving Valmar. Lord Irmo met them at the gates, thanking his Maiar escort and dismissing them, leaving Finrod alone with the Lord of Lórien who looked at him with dispassion.

"Your atar informed me that you wished to visit with your friend, Eärnur," Irmo finally said, speaking softly.

Finrod nodded.

"We both know better, don’t we?" Irmo retorted, giving him a knowing look and Finrod blushed.

"Eärnur...."

"Knows nothing of the real reason for your coming here," Irmo stated. "In fact, he is unaware that you are even here. It will be a surprise for him." He gave Finrod a meaningful look and the ellon nodded, well aware of what the Vala was saying, or rather, not saying. "Good," Irmo continued. "I will inform him in the morning of your arrival. In the meantime, your atar has given you a month. Use that time wisely."

Then, Ingil reappeared and Irmo indicated that Finrod should follow the Maia to where he would be lodging. "By the way," Irmo said as Finrod was giving him his obeisance, "you should be aware of the fact that I have extended Eärnur’s apprenticeship."

Finrod gave him a bemused look. "Why?" he asked. "I thought he was doing well."

"And he is," Irmo assured him. "However, while most apprenticeships last the usual twenty-four years, at the discretion of the master, an apprenticeship might be shortened or lengthened. In this case, I felt Eärnur needed a little more time before being promoted to journeyman status. There’s no shame in the delay," he added. "In fact, some of my most successful healers had their own apprenticeships lengthened. I merely tell you this, so you do not inadvertently say something to embarrass your friend. Eärnur has accepted my decision and so should you."

Finrod gave him a doubtful look. "He’s not being punished then?" he asked.

Irmo gave him a startled look. "Punished? No, child. Not at all. Becoming a healer, and a good one, takes time, and it’s not something that happens overnight, not like becoming a king, for instance." The Vala flashed him a knowing grin and Finrod could only snort in amusement. "I have every confidence that Eärnur will make an excellent master healer in due time. Now, off with you. You may see your friend in the morning."

So Finrod went with Ingil who showed him to a small grove with a single bed pavilion. A light meal had been provided for he had arrived after the dinner hour. As he sat there eating, he wondered again at the wisdom of coming there. Lord Irmo obviously knew the real reason for his coming to Lórien, yet he had not forbidden him from doing what he had planned to do once he arrived. That confused him, for it seemed to him that the Vala should have simply forbidden him from pursuing his plans and visit with Eärnur in truth, or sent him home forthwith. Not that he had no intention of visiting with his Telerin friend. He truly did want to see how Eärnur was doing, now more than ever with the news Lord Irmo had given him about extending the ellon’s apprenticeship.

Well, there was not much he could do about any of it at the moment, so he finished his repast and made ready to retire for the night, making sure that one of the fat candles he had shoved into his haversack was sitting on the night table and lit before he snuggled into bed.

****

Eärnur greeted Finrod the next morning joyfully and with obvious surprise. "I couldn’t believe it when Lord Irmo told me you were here," he said as he and Finrod made their way down the sward towards the dining pavilion where they would break their fast together. "Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?"

"There was no time," Finrod lied, feeling guilty for doing so, but mindful of Lord Irmo’s instructions. "I expressed a desire to see you and as Lord Herendil was setting out with the fosterlings for Vanyamar it seemed prudent for me to join him, at least as far as Valmar. A few of Lord Irmo’s Maiar met us there and escorted me. We only arrived last night."

"So how long can you stay?" Eärnur asked.

"A month," Finrod answered.

"That’s not long," the Teler replied, "but long enough." He gave his friend a brilliant smile. "I am so glad you are here, Findaráto. I am glad to see you are doing well."

"And you," Finrod said. "Lord Irmo told me about your apprenticeship being extended. I’m sorry."

"I’m not," Eärnur replied, looking unconcerned. "The closer the time came for me to be promoted to journeyman status the more upset I became. I really did not think I was ready and I was feeling panicky. Lord Irmo sent for me and we talked and in the end he said he would not promote me as planned. I was so relieved, you wouldn’t believe it."

"So how long....?"

"Oh, not too long, I don’t think," Eärnur answered. "Maybe another five or ten years. Lord Irmo assured me that he would only promote me when we both felt I was ready for it. There’s a lot of responsibility in becoming a journeyman healer, you know. That’s why most don’t achieve mastership for nearly a century once they become journeymen. There’s no hurry, after all. I’ll get there."

"I know you will," Finrod said fervently, "and you’ll be the best master healer Lórien has ever seen, I have no doubt."

Eärnur laughed. "Come. Let us have our breakfast and you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to."

****

Finrod was willing to follow Eärnur around for a few days, watching him at his work when the Teler suggested the idea. He tried not to feel too impatient, for what he truly wished to do was to find the way to the Gates of Return and wait for his gwador. He was not sure where they were located in relation to the rest of Lórien. He only knew how to get to them from this side of Lórien, but did not think he would be allowed that way. He tried to ask as surreptitiously as possible, without giving himself away, as to how one reached the Gates from the outside. He was careful not to ask Eärnur. Unfortunately those he did ask — Maiar and Lóriennildi alike — had no ready answer for him.

Thus, a week went by and Finrod was no closer to finding the Gates than when he first arrived and was feeling panicky. He only had so much time left and then he would be forced to leave. The thought of doing so without his beloved gwador made him feel sick and he lost his appetite. Eärnur, of course, noticed and asked him what was wrong.

"Nothing," Finrod exclaimed with frustration. "Everything is just fine."

Eärnur gave him a measuring look. "You didn’t come to visit me, did you?" he asked quietly.

Finrod stammered a denial, his face red, but Eärnur held up a hand to forstall him. "Don’t lie, Findaráto, not to me, please."

Finrod stuttered to a halt and refused to look at his friend. "It’s not that I didn’t want to see you," he said softly, "but...."

"You came hoping to see someone else," Eärnur said, giving him a sad smile. "And would that someone be a certain Glorfindel?"

Finrod looked up, an expression of hope on his face. "Is he here?" he demanded. "Can I see him?"

Eärnur took him by the shoulders. "No, meldonya," he said softly. "He is not here. He has not yet been re-embodied as far as I know."

Finrod sagged, feeling defeated. "I keep hoping if I am at the Gates he’ll be there waiting for me." He looked up at the apprentice healer, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I miss him so. I just want him to be with me."

"I know," Eärnur said, "or at least I think I know. Waiting is very hard. Your parents waited a long time for your release, you know. I’m sure they were very anxious and wondered why it was taking so long."

"It’s not the same," Finrod exclaimed somewhat petulantly.

Eärnur frowned. "Is it not? They lost three of their children to death and a fourth remains in exile. They had no way of knowing when or even if you would ever be released from Mandos. Do you think they did not suffer as you suffer, waiting for your friend, a friend you tell me you only met after you died? How can you be so arrogant?"

Finrod wanted to shout at Eärnur, claiming that he just did not understand, but in all honesty, he could not, for what his friend said was true. He was no one special when it came to waiting for a loved one to be released from Mandos. He recalled the looks of relief mingled with concern and love on his parents’ faces when he was first reunited with them and realized that what Eärnur had said was true. They had suffered and for far longer than he. He, in fact, had suffered not at all, being completely unaware of their existence. He suddenly realized that perhaps Glorfindel no longer remembered him, that in the timelessness of Mandos, his memory of him had slipped away and his gwador was happily making friends with others, just as he had made friends with him. It hurt to think it, but he knew that it might be true nonetheless.

"I’m sorry," he said at last, giving a sigh. "I guess I was just thinking about myself and no one else."

"Happens to us all," Eärnur said with a dismissive smile. "But come. I will take you to the Gates and you will sit beside them and wait and see the futility of it for yourself."

Without another word, he took Finrod’s arm and pulled him along, taking him outside the main entrance to. They headed for a place along the northeastern border. The area looked vaguely familiar to Finrod and then when he saw the Gates, he recognized the place as where he had been met by his parents. There was no one there. Eärnur led him right up to the Gates.

"Here I will leave you," he said, releasing his hold on Finrod. "If ever you tire of standing here waiting for what will not be, just return to Lórien. Remember, you have only three weeks left of your visit. Use the time wisely."

He turned around and headed back the way they had come. Finrod watched him go. He had been surprised at the ellon’s final words, an echo of the ones Lord Irmo had spoken to him. Then he turned back to look at the Gates and, not for the first time, wondered what he was really doing there. Yet, the thought of returning to Lórien did not sit well with him, even less the thought of returning to Tirion without Glorfindel. And so, he stood before the Gates.

The hours passed and he grew hungry and thirsty, but he refused to leave the Gates in search of food and drink. The sun set and the stars peeped out and he stayed where he was, though he had shifted his position so that he was sitting on the ground. He had no means with which to build a fire, but he was not cold and ignored the slight chill in the air as inconsequential. All night long he stared at the Gates, and when the sun rose the next morning, he was still there, staring at them. They remained closed for that day and for three days after. Finrod still refused to leave, though late on the second day it began to rain and he was soaked through. He left the vicinity of the Gates only to attend to personal needs but he did not venture too far, grabbing a handful of blackberries that he happened to find to assuage his hunger.

Sometime past noon, five days after Eärnur had left him at the Gates, a small party arrived. Finrod stood and moved away from the Gates and watched. They were a Noldorin family consisting of an elleth with two who were her children grown. There were others whose relationship to the mother and her children was unclear to Finrod.

They were excited and nervous and even fearful, he could see, as they stood before the Gates. Then, slowly, they opened and Finrod was not surprised to see that a thick fog hid what lay beyond. A dim figure came through after a moment or two and then the elleth gave a glad cry and ran to greet the ellon who emerged. Finrod could see the look of confusion on the ellon’s face and sympathized. He remembered feeling the same way. The others in the party converged on the ellon and his confused expression became less guarded as those who obviously were his family greeted him warmly. Soon, they were heading away, the ellon in their midst and Finrod was left alone.

"He died during the War of Wrath."

Finrod gave a start and turned to see Lord Irmo standing beside him. The Vala was not looking at him, however, but at the retreating figures of the little family now reunited once again.

"Glorfi died earlier than that," Finrod said boldly. "Why was that one released before my gwador? Why does Lord Námo keep him from me?"

Lord Irmo turned his gaze upon Finrod, his expression unreadable to the Elf. "Keep him from you?" he repeated. "He keeps nothing from you, Findaráto. Glorfindel is not yours to keep. There are others who have equal claim to him, if not more so."

Finrod blushed at the reprimand and sighed. "I miss him so much," he complained. "Why do I miss him when I don’t even miss my own brothers?"

Irmo gave him a sympathetic smile and put an arm around Finrod’s shoulders. "He is your other half," he explained. "Neither of you will be completely whole until you are together again."

"Then why....."

"Because Glorfindel is not yet ready to be released," Irmo said, "and though I think he’ll be released sooner than he should be, he certainly will not be released immediately. He still needs more time for healing."

Finrod sighed again, still doubtful of the Vala’s words. Irmo gave him a brief hug. "You cannot stay here forever, child. It simply will not do. Come back to Lórien with me," he pleaded. "Your gwador will not come. Not now. Not yet."

Finrod grimaced but realized the truth of the Lord of Lórien’s words, little though he liked them. In truth, he was feeling filthy and ragged and starved. The thought of a hot bath nearly undid him and he had to force his knees not to buckle, though a faint moan escaped his lips before he could stop it. Irmo seemed to understand what he was feeling and gently led him away from the Gates.

"A hot bath followed by a light meal, and then bed," he said. "You’ll feel better tomorrow."

Finrod could not argue with him and soon he was being greeted by Eärnur who met them at the entrance to Finrod’s grove and in a short while he was helping the prince divest himself of his filthy clothes and into a hot bath. Eärnur stayed with him while he ate a bowl of porridge and then practically tucked him into bed, lighting the candle on the table though it was only late afternoon. He settled into a chair and began quietly to play on a harp. All this time, the Lóriennildo never spoke a word of reprimand, for which Finrod was grateful. As he began to drift into sleep, he forced his eyes open. "I’m sorry," he said. "You were right."

Eärnur just smiled and continued playing softly. "Go to sleep, Findaráto," he said gently and Finrod gave himself over to sleep, slipping effortlessly onto the Path of Dreams where he and Glorfindel played in a garden of stone under the watchful eyes of their Maiar caregivers.

****

Mirroanwi: (Quenya) Plural of mirroanwë: Incarnate, i.e. Elf or Mortal.