In Darkness Bound by Fiondil

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Chapter 45: Invitations and Reactions

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45: Invitations and Reactions

Ingwë was holding court when the Maia was announced. Eonwë entered the audience chamber, and every Elf bowed to him as he strode up the center aisle. Ingwë and Elindis rose from their thrones to greet him.

"My lord Eönwë. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Ingwë said with a smile.

Eönwë stopped just three feet from the royal couple and gave them a bow. "I come at the behest of the Elder King," he said.

"And what does my Lord Manwë require of us?" Ingwë asked.

"Only that you and all of Vanyamar join with the Valar in a Feast of Thanksgiving as has been the custom," the Maia replied. "My Lord hath decreed that the three hundred and fiftieth week of this year will be a time of festival. He was reminded that due to the troubles of the last few years we have not held this feast as we ought and so we will make up for it with a week long celebration in honor of Eru Ilúvatar."

Murmurs of surprise ran through the court and there was much excited whispering among the courtiers. Ingwë smiled and Elindis clapped her hands. "Oh, that is welcome news, my lord," she said. "Long have I hoped that the Elder King would declare a time of festival. It is indeed long overdue."

"My beloved speaks truly," Ingwë said. "Please extend to my Lord Manwë our sincerest gratitude for this news. We will endeavor to make such merriment as has never before been seen on these shores."

Eönwë bowed. "It is hoped that this festival will bring healing to all the peoples of Aman and that the Peace of the Valar will once again flow through the lands." With that, he simply disappeared, leaving a faint trace of lavender and lovage behind.

When the Maia had gone, Ingalaurë, standing on Ingwë’s right, turned to his atar, looking excited. "A week long celebration! Do you think Ingwi will come to it?"

Ingwë smiled at his son. "Oh, I have no doubt that everyone will be invited to this festival," he said. "It sounds as if Lord Manwë is hoping for a reconciliation between the Valar and us."

"Reconciliation?" Ingalaurë exclaimed in surprise. "Why do we need to be reconciled to the Valar? We’ve done nothing wrong."

"We have allowed the unrest that first manifested itself among our Noldorin kin to spread among our own people," Ingwë answered. "I think it behooves us all to remember that the Valar invited us to dwell among them. This was their home before it ever became ours." Then he turned to the court and in a ringing voice announced, "Let the news go forth throughout the city that the Valar have decreed a time of festival in honor of Eru Ilúvatar that will commence in the three hundred and fiftieth week of this year."

"Valar nár laitanë!" someone cried out and the phrase was picked up by all and repeated several times. The acclaim of the court echoed through the hall and into the streets where ordinary citizens passing by stopped in wonder at its portent.

****

Ñolofinwë and the rest of the Noldorin royal family, along with Ingwion, were picnicking in Finwë Park when Cemendillë, Chief Maia of Yavanna, appeared before them. Immediately, people began to rise but the Maia waved them back down.

"Nay! Stand not on my account," she said.

Everyone resumed their seats on the blankets spread out under an elm except Ñolofinwë, who gave the Maia a respectful bow. "Lady, you lend us grace with your presence. How may we serve you?"

"I am Cemendillë of the People of Yavanna," the Maia said, "and I have come to you at the behest of the Elder King to tell you that, being mindful of our many blessings, and the fact that in these last years we have failed to do honor unto Eru Ilúvatar as is meet for his Children, the Elder King hath decreed a time of festival to last five days during the three hundred and fiftieth week of this year. We will again hold a Feast of Thanksgiving for the First Fruits as hath been the custom in previous times and all are invited to attend."

"A... a festival? Now?" Ñolofinwë asked, giving Cemendillë an uncertain look.

The Maia nodded, her expression one of amusement at the nonplused reaction of the second son of Finwë. "Yes. A festival," she replied, "but not immediately. Thou still hast some weeks to prepare."

Anairë rose then and placed a hand on her husband’s arm while addressing the Maia. "We are pleased by this news, never doubt it, lady," she said, "it’s just that... with all that has been happening... it’s the last thing we expected." She stole a glance at her husband, her expression somewhat worried.

"Lord Manwë realizes this," Cemendillë answered. "Yet, it cannot be denied that we have been neglectful of our duty to Eru Ilúvatar in giving thanks for the first fruits of the land... and of the hröa." She smiled indulgently at little Itarildë sitting in her atar’s loving embrace with wide eyes and open mouth at the Maia. Both her parents blushed for no particular reason.

Ñolofinwë then bowed to the Maia again. "We thank you for this news, lady," he said. "If our response to your message is less than joyful, please understand...."

"Child," Cemendillë said with a gentle smile, "thou hast no need to explain." And with that, she was gone, leaving behind the scent of lemonbalm and basil.

There was a brief moment of silence and then everyone started talking at once.

"A festival!" Írissë exclaimed to her cousin Artanis. "It has been some time since we last had one, hasn’t it?"

Artanis nodded enthusiastically. "I have missed going to Valmar and singing and dancing before the Valar. Why don’t we plan our garb for the festival so that they match?"

"But I will want to wear white, as I always do," Írissë protested, "and you look awful in white. Blue is your color."

"Then we will each wear the color that suits us best, but let us make the dresses identical in style."

Írissë nodded. "Perhaps we can convince our amilli and Elenwë and Eldalótë and Aunt Finwaina to do the same." Artanis liked that idea and the two ellith sat giggling together discussing fabrics and the latest styles.

Meanwhile, Artanis’ brothers, Aicanáro and Angaráto, along with Findecáno, Aracáno, and Angaráto’s son, Artaher, were discussing the games of sport that would be held during the festival.

"There will be races and competitions in gymnastics and wrestling," Angaráto was explaining to his son. "You are too young to remember the last time there was such a festival as this. We should have had a Feast of Double Mirth five years ago but with Fëanáro’s trial and all that followed after it just didn’t seem proper."

"You better make sure Artanis doesn’t compete though," Findecáno said with a laugh. "You know she can outrace all of us."

Aicannáro sighed. "Sometimes I have to wonder why she was born an elleth. Ammë truly named her well when she named her Nerwen."

"Well, let’s forget about our sister for the nonce," Angaráto said, then turned his attention to Aracáno. "Do you think you will compete in the wrestling matches as you did last time?" he asked and the ellyn spent some time discussing the various competitions and which ones they thought to compete in.

Ñolofinwë and Anairë had resumed their seats on the blankets beside Arafinwë and Eärwen. The youngest son of Finwë gave his brother a shrewd look. "You don’t seem particularly happy about the news."

Ñolofinwë shook his head. "It is not that I am unhappy," he replied, "it is more that I have to wonder at the motives of the Valar in decreeing this festival now."

Arafinwë snorted. "I am the one who is usually skeptical about such things," he declared with a grin. "When did you learn to be so suspicious?"

"Since becoming regent," Ñolofinwë replied with a grimace and then sighed when he saw the expressions of concern on the faces of the others. "No, it is well. The Maia was correct. We have been neglectful of our duty towards Eru Ilúvatar. Perhaps that has been part of our problem of late. Perhaps this festival will remind us all what our lives are about." He turned to his son, Turucáno, sitting nearby and listening to the conversation and smiled. "And this will be a perfect opportunity for you and Elenwë to present Itarildë to the Valar."

"It is true we have been meaning to travel to Valmar to present our daughter to the Valar as is the custom," Turucáno said, "but there never seemed to be a right time for it."

"Then this is the perfect opportunity, would you not say?" Anairë retorted gently and both Turucáno and Elenwë nodded.

"So now I must make an announcement to the rest of the city," Ñolofinwë said with a sigh.

"Are you really that set against the festival?" his brother asked with a frown.

"No, it’s not that," Ñolofinwë replied. "I was wondering if our kin in Formenos will be invited to attend as well and what will happen when we all meet before the Valar."

"Perhaps that is their intent," Findaráto interjected. He and Ingwion had been listening to the conversation.

"What do you mean?"Arafinwë asked.

"Only that part of the unrest that we have experienced these last few years can be traced back to the split among the Noldor with some remaining here and others going to Formenos. Our family is not the only one which has suffered; other families also are bereft of atari and amilli, yondor and yendi, hánor and nésar. Perhaps the Valar believe that all families should be reconciled one to the other, coming together in peace and thanksgiving."

"Your son speaks wisely," Ñolofinwë said to his brother. "I had not looked at it in quite that way. Thank you, Findaráto."

Findaráto gave his uncle a nod in acknowledgment, then turned to Ingwion while Ñolofinwë and Arafinwë discussed the wording for the announcement to the citizens of Tirion. "So, I imagine you will be returning to Vanyamar to be with your family when they go to Taniquetil for the festival."

"Most likely," Ingwion said. "I know that Eccaldamos, Tulcafindil and Marilla will want to go back home to help their families with preparations."

"Which is only proper," Findaráto said with a nod. "But we will see one another there and then you will come back to Tirion unless Uncle Ingwë has other plans for you."

"He has not indicated that he does," Ingwion replied. "I think he means for me to remain here as his eyes and ears and spokesman at least until Fëanáro’s exile has been lifted. After that, we will see."

"When will you leave?" Ñolofinwë suddenly asked, interrupting the cousins’ conversation.

"The festival is almost fifty weeks away," Ingwion said with a smile. "I do not intend to pack today."

There was laughter all around and then Eärwen suggested they put aside the topic of the upcoming festival for a time and continue enjoying their picnic and to that no one had any objections.

****

Salmar, Chief Maia of the Lord of Waters, made an appearance in Alqualondë, rising out of the sea and passing under the arch of living searock that marked the entrance to the Haven. By the time he reached the quays his form was more that of the Children. The Teleri on the wharves stopped and stared in surprise at the sight of the Maia making his way through the city towards Olwë’s palace. Guards before the palace gates, alerted by others of the Maia’s approach, quickly informed the king who came forth along with Lirillë, Lindarion, Falmaron, Olwen, Salmar, and his wife, Faniel, all of them gaping a bit at the sight of Ulmo’s Chief Maia. Ossë and Uinen they were used to seeing but even Olwë had difficulty recalling the last time this particular Maia had deigned to visit Alqualondë.

"My Lord Salmar," Olwë called in greeting, giving the Maia a respectful bow which was echoed by the others. "Welcome to Alqualondë. How may we serve you?"

Salmar gazed fondly on the Lindaran and his family, especially his namesake. "My greetings to you, Olwë of Alqualondë, from my Lord Ulmo and my Lord Manwë. The Elder King, mindful that we of Aman, having been beset with troubles lately and therefore neglectful of our duty towards Eru Ilúvatar, hath decreed that in the three hundred and fiftieth week of this year a festival of Thanksgiving will be held as hath been our custom and he wisheth to extend the invitation for you to attend."

Olwë nodded. "I thank you for your message, lord," he said, "but I do not think any of my people will bother to attend. We have never done so in the past unless specifically commanded by Lord Manwë and always it has been for a particular reason. Doth he command us this time?"

"Nay, Olwë, he doth not, but he hopeth that thou wilt consider sending a token delegation to represent the Lindar. This is more than a feast of Thanksgiving; it is also, so it is hoped, a time for reconciliation, especially among the Noldor."

"Well, there is time enough to decide," Olwë said. "I will consider sending a small delegation, perhaps headed by my own son and your namesake, for I have no doubt that Faniel will want to be there with her family, as is only proper."

"Thank you, Atar Olwë," Faniel said shyly. "I would indeed wish to be with my family for the festival."

"Then that at least is decided," Olwë said with a smile. "Others may join you but we will discuss it in greater detail later." Then he bowed to the Maia again. "Will you join us for refreshments, my Lord Salmar?"

"I thank thee, but I have other duties to attend to and so I will depart now." With that, he simply disappeared, leaving the fresh scent of peaches behind.

For a moment the Elves simply stood there in bemusement, digesting the news. Lirillë turned to Olwë with a quizzical look. "Your reaction to the announcement was not very enthusiastic."

"And why should it be?" Olwë countered. "The affairs of the Noldor and the Vanyar, even those of the Valar, have rarely touched our lands. If Lord Manwë wishes to see the Noldor reconciled one to another, what is that to us?"

"Would you not like to see Finwë again?" Lirillë asked, giving him a shrewd look.

"Yes, I would," Olwë averred, "but I will wait until he returns from his self-imposed exile. It’s not as if either of us is going anywhere and there are only seven more years before he returns to Tirion. When he does, you and I will go and greet him and welcome him back to his home."

"But in the meantime, who else is willing to accompany Faniel and me to Taniquetil?" the youngest son of Olwë asked. "What about you, Lindarion, or you, Falmaron? Would either of you like to go?"

"Perhaps," the heir of the Lindaran replied, his tone noncommital. Falmaron merely shrugged.

"And don’t forget me," Olwen piped up, looking disgruntled. "You always forget me."

"Never, nésanya," Salmar said with a smile, giving her a quick hug.

"Why don’t we go back inside and resume our lunch and talk about it?" Faniel suggested.

The others agreed to this and the discussion continued long after the meal was concluded, though no final decisions were actually made.

****

Fëanáro was caressing one of the Silmarils when a knock came on the door of his inner sanctum. He started at the sound of the rap and muttered a curse at the interruption, but realized that it must be important, for none would dare to interrupt him when he was here in this particular room.

"Who is it?" he called out even as he stowed the Silmaril back into the cast-iron safe and closed the door, locking it.

"It is I, Atar, Nelyo," his first-born called out.

Fëanáro went to the door and opened it. "What is so important, yonya, that you would interrupt me?"

The oldest son of Fëanáro had a strange expression on his face that Fëanáro could not interpret. "Anatar sent me," Nelyafinwë explained. "He says you must come."

"Come? Come where?" Fëanáro frowned, wondering what his atar was playing at.

"The main audience hall," his son answered. "There... there is someone who wishes to speak with you." His hesitation intrigued Fëanáro enough that he simply nodded, closing and locking the door behind him and strode down the corridor to the main hall with Nelyafinwë beside him.

When they entered the hall Fëanáro stopped in surprise, for not only was Finwë there but all of his own sons and one other.

"Lord Eönwë," Fëanáro said with a stiff bow to the Herald of Manwë.

"Prince Fëanáro," the Maia replied with a slight bow of his own.

"Lord Eönwë was about to deliver us a message from Lord Manwë," Finwë said, gesturing for his son to join him on the throne dais where he was standing.

"What message would that be?" Fëanáro asked suspiciously.

"The Elder King hath declared a time of festival in Thanksgiving to Eru Ilúvatar," the Maia replied, "to commence in the three hundred and fiftieth week of this year and to last for five days. My Master hopes that thou, Finwë, and all who dwell here in Formenos, will join your kin in giving thanks to Eru as hath been our custom in times past."

"Is this an invitation or a command?" Finwë asked, giving the Maia a cold look.

"It is an invitation to all," Eönwë said, "save for Fëanáro. Him alone doth the Elder King command that he attend upon my Lord Manwë at the time of festival and hath entrusted me with a personal message: ‘Fëanáro Finwion, come and do not deny my bidding! In my love thou remainest and wilt be honoured in my hall’."

Fëanáro gave the Maia a wintry smile and an even stiffer bow than before. "You may tell Lord Manwë that I will come as he hath commanded me, but I pray that I will be excused from attending the entire time."

"My Lord anticipated thy reluctance," Eönwë replied with a faintly amused smile, "and bid me to say that thou art to come on the third day of the festival unto Ilmarin."

"Then I shall be there, though I doubt me that Lord Manwë will have any joy from my presence." His expression was sardonic.

"As to that, Child," Eönwë said, "thou must decide for thyself how thou wilt present thyself unto the Valar." Then he turned to Finwë. "It is hoped that thou shalt accompany thy son, thou and thy grandsons as well."

But Finwë shook his head. "While the ban lasts upon my son, that he may not go to Tirion, I hold myself unkinged, and I will not meet my people."

If Eönwë was upset by Finwë’s response, he gave no indication, merely bowing courteously to them all before fading from view, leaving a faint trace of lavender and lovage to linger in the air.

"Will you forbid any others from going?" Fëanáro asked his atar.

"Nay, I will not," Finwë replied, "but I think, at any rate, none will bother to go. Certainly Morcocáno will not if he knows that afterwards he must return here."

"What about you, my sons?" Fëanáro asked. "Will ye accompany me to Taniquetil?"

"By your leave, Atar, we will not," Curufinwë answered, apparently speaking for them all, though Fëanáro detected a look of wistfulness on Nelyo’s face and knew that this one at least had thought to meet with his cousin and best friend, Findecáno. "We consider ourselves to be in exile no less than you, and since we have not been specifically commanded to attend this festival, we will remain here with Anatar."

Fëanáro nodded, not at all surprised at his favorite son’s words. "So be it," he pronounced. "If any wish to accompany me when I go, I will welcome them, but otherwise, I will go alone as has been commanded of me, though I will go on my own terms, not the Valar’s." He gave them a sour grin and without another word strode from the hall, making his way back to his inner sanctum and his treasures. He suspected that the Valar were hoping he would bring the Silmarils with him. Well, they were in for a great disappointment, he thought grimly to himself. They and everyone else.

****

In Valmar and Eldamas word of the upcoming festival spread informally from Vala to Maia to Elda and it was not long before all the Elves residing there learned of it and there was much excitement and joy among them, whether Noldor or Vanyar. Even the very few Teleri who served Lord Ulmo in Valmar went about with wide grins on their faces. When, singly or in groups, people began spontaneously singing hymns of praise and thanksgiving, the Valar smiled among themselves, sure that their plan to bring peace and reconciliation to Aman was already working.

****

Valar nár laitanë!: ‘The Valar be praised!’

Atari: Plural of atar: Father.

Amilli: Plural of amillë: Mother.

Yondor: Plural of yondo: Son.

Yendi: Plural of yendë: Daughter.

Hánor: Plural of háno: Brother.

Nésar: Plural of nésa: Sister.

Lindaran: King of the Lindar, the name by which the Teleri (a Noldorin name for them) call themselves. Cf. the attested titles Noldóran (King of the Noldor) and Ingaran (High King).