The Findaráto Diaries by Fiondil

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Chapter 6: After the Storm

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6: After the Storm

My tantrum left me confused, my emotions suspect. I seemed unable to hold a coherent thought in my head for some time after. I felt frustrated at my inability to articulate the hurt that dwelt within me, festering like an unlanced wound. I felt weak in a way that had nothing to do with the physical weakness that still plagued me as I tried to strengthen my muscles into obeying my commands. Neither of my attendants were helpful in alleviating the sense of failure that plunged me into a state nearing despair. I suppose they hoped I would be able to work it all out on my own.

They were wrong....

****

Lady Yavanna came with the dawn. She did not enter the cottage but stood in the garden surveying the ruin with an expression more of ruefulness than of dismay or even anger. Her Fallen Brother had done much worse harm to her creations. It would take very little effort on her part to repair the damage done by the ellon only just beginning to stir from sleep inside the cottage. She turned when she felt the presence of one of the Maiar and smiled as Olórin gave her his obeisance.

"I thought you were with Nienna," she said.

"And I was," Olórin replied, "but my lord bid me to come here, for there was need."

Yavanna nodded, knowing that when the Maia spoke of ‘my lord’ he meant Manwë who held his allegiance, rather than Námo. "Your special talents are much appreciated, Olórin, especially where the Children are concerned," she said sincerely and he gave her another bow. "And speaking of Children, I suppose I should see to this one when he is ready to see me."

Olórin chuckled. "I will see if he’s receiving visitors, my lady."

Yavanna laughed lightly as Olórin went into the cottage. While she waited, she looked at the damage to the garden again and sighed. It seemed that whenever any of the Reborn got angry they tended to take their frustrations out on her poor plants. She suspected it was because the Children knew the plants wouldn’t retaliate in kind. "Maybe I should stick an ent in every garden," she muttered to herself, her expression momentarily wicked as she imagined a hapless Reborn suddenly finding the garden fighting back.

*Thereby frightening the poor things right back into Mandos,* Námo bespoke her with a laugh. She mentally stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed even harder before withdrawing his mind from hers.

A silent call from Olórin let her know that Findaráto was dressed and awaiting her arrival. She walked up to the cottage and knocked primly. The door was opened immediately by the Maia who gave her a mocking look even as he bowed her in. She saw Findaráto standing in a corner, looking both wary and resigned and her heart went out to him. He looked so lost, like so many of the other Reborn before him. She resisted a sigh as he gave her an awkward bow, still physically uncoordinated.

"Do you have anything to say?" she asked unsmiling, her voice soft.

He gave her a puzzled look and shook his head and it was clear to her that he had no idea what she meant. She gestured to him. "Let me see your hands."

He held them out with the palms facing her and she hid a smile, for he reminded her then of an actual elfling in his manner. She took the hands and turned them so the palms were facing up. Even in the dim light of the early morning filtering in through the one window that the cottage could boast she could see the faint white lines of scars where the thorns had ripped his skin. She looked up into his eyes, still full of unrelieved pain and confusion.

"Do you know what you did?" She asked.

He nodded. "I... I hurt the flowers," he whispered, sounding more like a twelve year old than the once King of Nargothrond.

"And they hurt you back," she said with a sympathetic nod.

"I... I don’t remember," he replied, his brows furrowing as he attempted to remember what happened the day before, sighing when he failed to recall any real details save for the anger that had overwhelmed him before all else.

"I’m not surprised," the Earth-Queen said. "Come with me, child." She let go of one of his hands but kept the other, leading him out of the cottage and down the path to where the damage was. She allowed him to stare at the crushed and broken rose bushes, the soft petals — red, white, peach, yellow — scattered all about, trampled into the soft earth. She noticed with approval his look of horror and shame. "Anger is a useful tool when employed correctly," the Valië commented. "It helps us when we need motivation to achieve a goal otherwise thought unattainable, such as defeating an enemy greater than ourselves when our loved ones are threatened. Anger, used incorrectly, though, is a vicious monster bent only on destruction. You allowed your anger to overtake you and so this is the result." She swept her hand to embrace the scene. Then she turned to the ellon standing beside her. "What will you do now, child?"

For a long moment Findaráto just stood there, staring at the damage he had caused. There was one small plant he noticed — he wasn’t even sure what it was called — lying uprooted among the dying rose bushes. It looked even more forlorn than everything else, lying there with its single sun-yellow bloom. He felt tears welling in his eyes as he continued to gaze at that one flower, falling to his knees and gently picking it up. With no real conscious thought of what he was doing he dug at the ground by his knees, making a hole into which he stuck the plant, pushing the soil back into place, patting it down. Letting go of the flower, he sat back on his heels, looking at it expectantly. For a few seconds it remained upright but when it drooped over he started weeping, feeling defeated all over again. His tears dripped off his cheeks onto the flower.

All this time, Yavanna and Olórin watched the ellon’s actions in silence. When he started crying though, Yavanna knelt beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Hush now, best beloved," she said, borrowing the favorite phrase from Námo, knowing Findaráto would recognize it. "That is a very good start. Look, look what your tears have wrought."

She pointed to the flower and Findaráto gasped in shock, his tears forgotten as he beheld the plant, now no longer drooping, but upright. There was a glow surrounding it that mesmerized him. Yavanna smiled warmly and bent down to give him a light kiss on the top of his head. "I think you will do," she whispered, more to herself than to him. She felt a sense of satisfaction coming from the Maia standing there as well as from Námo busy with his charges in Mandos proper. "Would you like to help me repair the rest of the damage?"

The ellon looked at her with relief in his eyes, relief and perhaps just a hint of joy. He nodded enthusiastically but then the smile that had graced his face was replaced by lines of worry. "Wh-what about my punishment?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

Yavanna took one of his hands and turned the palm up so they could see the scars crisscrossing it. "I think you’ve punished yourself enough, child," she said gently. "Whenever you see these scars they will remind you of the day you let anger control you instead of the other way around. Let that be the lesson you take with you from this day hence. Now, go with Olórin and he will show you where the gardening tools are."

Findaráto rose and obediently followed the Maia while Yavanna remained kneeling, gazing fondly at the yellow flower standing so bravely against the destruction around it, thinking it was an apt symbol for the ellon now returning with spade and trowel in hand.

****

In spite of Yavanna’s gentle treatment of him, Findaráto still felt at a loss. He was expecting to be punished. He was not sure what form the punishment would take, but he was quite sure it did not include having mid-morning tea with scones under a spreading oak tree after he and the Valië had finished putting the garden to rights. Yet, there they were, sitting on a blanket, drinking peppermint tea and eating hot scones with clotted cream and raspberry jam. He decided not to worry too much about it, though. The scones were delicious. Still....

Yavanna seemed to divine his confusion and hid a smile behind the porcelain teacup in her hand. "You are puzzled, child," she said after taking a sip of tea.

Findaráto nodded and gave her a heartbreaking look of something very close to despair. "Why am I here?"

"Hmm.... a rather difficult question to answer," the Valië said in all seriousness, "but I imagine you mean, why are you in this garden?"

Findaráto nodded enthusiastically.

"And I also think your real question is, why are you alive."

He nodded again, though more reluctantly. That was something he didn’t want to think about just then. Asking about the garden seemed safer.

"The answer to the one lies in the answer to the other, Findaráto," Yavanna said gently. "You are alive because it is time for you to live again."

"I don’t want to," the ellon whispered, not looking at her, cringing slightly as if to ward off a blow he knew must come.

"Most Reborn do not," she said in a matter-of-fact manner. "With re-embodiment comes responsibilities that were put aside at death. You have existed, Findaráto, for many centuries in a timeless state, free from all responsibilities, free even from your own identity. However, that is not the same as living. It is, in fact, a state unnatural to you, forced upon you by the fact that your first hröa was too damaged to sustain your fëa. You died who should never have tasted Death as the Secondborn do."

He shuddered, images of eyes glowing in the darkness and chains binding him as well as the sound of a slavering beast filled his mind and he mewled in sudden terror. Instantly, Námo appeared, kneeling behind him and embracing him, even as Yavanna reached out to take hold of one of his hands.

"Easy, child," the Lord of Mandos said. "Take a deep breath and let it out slowly."

"Findaráto, look at me," the Earth-Queen commanded. "That’s it. All is well, child. There is no need for fear. Banish those images from your mind. They cannot harm you."

Findaráto gasped as he felt the love and support of the two Valar envelope him and he started weeping. "I died... I died...." he kept saying even as he continued to weep, the sense of defeat washing over him again.

"Yes, you did," Námo said gently, still holding him in his arms. "There is no shame in that, best beloved. Many have died, many more will do so. Take comfort in the fact that you died protecting another, that you gave your life to save another and in doing so, wrought a great destiny not only for yourself, but for others."

"Wh-who did I save?" he sputtered, not yet appeased.

"I shall not tell you," Námo replied. "That knowledge should come from yourself, but know that in sacrificing yourself you opened up a future for your people and the Secondborn that might never have been possible otherwise. Your selfless act is one of which even we Valar stand in awe. Believe this."

His tears abated and he grew calmer. Leaning against Námo and drawing in a deep breath he released the tension, the crippling despair and guilt that had threatened to take him. He died and horribly. He knew that. Yet, oddly the emotion behind that knowledge was lacking. It was as if it had happened to another. What he did feel was relief that his death had had some meaning beyond himself, that it benefitted others, that it had not been for nothing.

"No death is for nothing," Námo said, as if he could read his thoughts. "There is always a reason for what happens, whether we understand this or not. Sometimes the deepest tragedies seem to be the result of capriciousness on the part of fate, yet that is not so. From even the greatest of tragedies some good unlooked for always arises. We Valar are a witness to this, for there have been times in our long existence when it all seemed pointless, the waste and destruction that our Fallen Brother wrought across Eä, yet in the end we knew it was not pointless. Do you know how we knew?"

"How?"

Námo bent down and planted a kiss on the top of his silvery-golden hair. "Because you are here and that has made all the suffering we Valar have endured over the long ages worth while." He kissed him again and Yavanna smiled, giving him a nod when he looked to her for confirmation of Námo’s words.

"Thank you, child," she said with all sincerity. "Thank you from all of us."

Findaráto smiled. The Valar shared a look of satisfaction between them and then Námo spoke again. "So now, there is only one last question that needs answering," he said.

Findaráto turned his head to look up at the Vala, his brows creased with renewed worry. "Wh-what question?"

Námo arched an eyebrow. "Why the question of who gets to eat the last scone, of course."

Findaráto blinked at the unexpectedness of the reply and then, without taking his eyes off of Námo, he reached out and snagged the last scone, bringing it to his mouth and slowly taking a bite. Námo threw back his head and laughed, giving Findaráto another hug.

"Hey! That was my scone, you naughty elfling," Yavanna protested in mock anger, fighting not to laugh. "Just for that, I’ll have to come up with a suitable punishment."

Findaráto wasn’t sure if she wasn’t being serious, and he wondered if he should apologize before something bad happened to him but just then Olórin came to his rescue bearing another plate of scones and a fresh pot of tea.