Édebar by Urloth

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Epilogue

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Eärwen heard crying as she stepped into the family quarters, soft and low. A male voice, a youth of indeterminate age.

She ducked her head, lips pressing together.

Usually when such crying was heard it was Tyelkormo, but she did not think it would be him this time.

Indeed as she made her way through the family quarters there was no sign of Tyelkormo at all. The youth was banned from public appearances until his hair had grown out enough from its shambolic attempt at colouring it that they could cut it and claim it was a fashionable change.

Eärwen closed her eyes, seeing for a moment the youth’s devastated face, one cheek already swelling with a bruise from Indis’ slap, his hands stained blue and his hair also a dark but unmistakable blue from the ink he’d mistaken for black and tried to erase his talked about locks of hair.

Nienna forgive her sins but she hated this family with every breath she drew in and she hated its court and people almost as much.

It was unforgivable that whilst Fëanáro was the one who was loyal to his wife and Ñolofinwë freely tupped his cousin that is was Fëanáro who was slandered and his mother’s kin also. The whispers were prevalent that Tyelkormo had been sired upon one of Fëanáro’s female cousins and then passed off as Nerdanel’s.

Fëanáro had, in direct defiance of the order to keep Tyelkormo tucked away out of sight, packed up his family and taken them away on one of their long meanders across the breadth of Aman. His departure only heightened the tensions because Fëanáro might let things pass him by if it meant easing his father’s stress. But he would not forgive the laying of hands on his son.

Eventually Fëanáro would return with his family. Eventually Fëanáro’s retaliation would descend upon the royal household with full force.

The source of the crying, as it turned out, was Turukáno.

“A…aunt…” his sodden flushed face was shocked to see her. Eärwen waved from the doorway.

“What ails you nephew?”

There was a pause of male pride and Eärwen shook her head, “tell me please Turukáno. I might be able to help.”

“Is Findaráto with you?”

“He is not.”

“I spilled some of the oil at lunch that was meant for dipping bread. Grandmother took Mother to task for it.”

Oh dear. Eärwen’s heart sank. “Thank you.”

She called for a servant and had them deliver fresh water, cooler than what was in Turukáno’s room. She left him with a damp chilled cloth over his face and sought out Anairë.

Anairë’s cheek was bruised. She had also been slapped clearly. Given the flinching of her body just from the breeze it was probably more than a slap though whether the harm was emotional or physical Eärwen. Her sleeves were long despite the hot weather, and her head hung low with her tired expression revealed for her hair was up in braids tight against her scalp in the fashion of Tirion.

“What happened?” Eärwen asked, turned to stone at the doorway.

“She said I was becoming too cheeky with her.”

Eärwen went back to Turukáno’s room and returned with a new damp cloth for her to press against her cheek.

“It would be good if we could use the ice from the ice stores but it would result in a scolding,” Anairë muttered, leaning into her. Anairë’s dress was a fashionable shimmer of oak browns and flashes of gold. It might as well have been dull black the way she sagged in it. Her stomach was rounding out with her third child, Eärwen noted this with a slight flurry of excitement despite her building rage at Tirion’s household. Eärwen was expecting her own third child soon, though she was not nearly so far along.

Arafinwë could perform with a woman. It helped if that woman resembled Mairolwë of course. Two sons born in swift succession had killed the last of the rumours swirling around her husband and her brother. This child was… well… accidental as far as a child of the eldar could be an accident.

Never let your drunk husband convince an equally you to put on your brother’s clothing to see what you look like, she supposed, was the moral of the day.

She’d have to commemorate it in the child’s name.

“Are you here long?” Anairë asked her, slipping forward on the couch so she could rest back against Eärwen, head lolling on Eärwen’s shoulder.

“Two months, I rode ahead. Arafinwë is following with the boys. Where is everyone?"

"Well you know where Fëanáro and his have gone to. I got a letter saying they are staying a while with Mahtan. Ñolofinwë has taken Findekáno to the horse yards today since he has outgrown his mount.  Lalwen is with Nienna as she always is, her release date has been postponed again, and Findis has taken herself away to Édebar. I am surprised you did not meet her along the road but perhaps she took the backroads."

"Indis tried to put her on a diet again?"

"Yes, she said that Findis was becoming too bloated and needed to stop eating meat" Anairë tucked her head against Eärwen's neck and Eärwen shivered to feel the butterfly touch of lashes against her throat.

Anairë was so petite, Eärwen could barely believe there was a time she had stood eye to eye with her friend and lover. Eärwen kissed the crown of Anairë’s head and wrapped a proprietary arm around her.

“I have heard a rumour about your husband’s mistress,” she murmured, “care to confirm or deny them?”

“He’s stopped seeing her since the child was born which is a great irony,” Anaire tilted her head up and kissed her jaw.

“What is the child’s name?” Eärwen wrapped her arm tighter around Anairë’s shrinking waistline.

“Oh… Guilin or something of the like,” Anairë shrugged, “I’m butchering it probably. I can’t remember. Why?”

“Just to keep my eye out amongst mother’s fosterlings.”

“Ah yes,” Anairë shook her head, “your mother forgives a lot so long as noble blood is involved.”

“And a hefty debt is accrued and taking in an abandoned mistress’ child is just the sort of thing my mother will do if that mistress’ kin have sway,” Eärwen pushed back her braid with her free hand, “what are you doing tonight?”

“I agreed to have supper with father in his office,” Anairë’s eyes cast down, then up again, and there was a gleam of warmth now which did Eärwen’s heart good to see in the same way a beam of Laurelin or Tyelperion’s grace breaking through a long patch of rain, “but I have a few hours free between dinner and then.”

“Free?” Eärwen leaned in closer and kissed the edge of Anairë’s ear.

“Free,” Anairë shivered and bit her lip. Eärwen felt the sudden tension, worried and unhappy, in her friend’s grip.

“Good,” Eärwen kissed again, “I’ll give your back a massage.”

Unlike Anairë’s last pregnancy, her ardour had completely left her this time. Eärwen understood.

Anairë’s hand relaxed and Eärwen kissed away the last little bit of unhappiness and shame lingering there, letting herself be the balm to the fëa deep bruises her dearest’s being had banked.

-

“It is good to see you again Eärwen, my heart warms when you are near, especially because Anairë smiles so,” Finwë smiled at her over the small supper laid out for them to nibble on. Eärwen smiled back, glad to see that Finwë was not nearly as sallow as the last time as she had seen him. Hopefully the new diet to try and reduce the holes in his stomach lining was working.

“It is good to see you also,” Eärwen helped herself to some cheese and then some pear.

They polished off the plates and then they sat back, enjoying talking to one another for a while until at last a natural lull came over them.

Finwë began to hum a tune then softly murmur the words to it, half dozing in his chair. It sounded like Quenya, archaic Quenya, and Eärwen maybe understood one word in ten.

“Who was that song for?” Anairë asked sleepily, slumped against Eärwen’s side.

“My first born,” Finwë murmured back, sounding half asleep himself.

“Fëanáro?”

“No, no… the child before him. Míriel and I, we had a child, a son with hair as bright as hers and he was our joy beneath the dark trees. And when the darkness took him the grief between us was like a burning coal against our skin and I ran from her. I could not bear to see her and her shining hair in the darkness. I could not bear to look into her eyes and see the loss that was my own. The only thing that sent me back to her was the lightning in the sky as great battle was done to at last seal Melkor away. And then I ran from her again. I was not healed yet. I suppose that was the earliest indication I could not handle grief well. I should have taken note from my failings then.”

“I’m only going to accept your self-pity if you are genuinely are sorry for hurting her,” Anairë grunted.

Finwë looked at them both and his eyes bled grief, such immense grief that they themselves could not yet comprehend, “I do. Each breath I take.” He swore.

“Anairë!” Eärwen scolded, shocked at her.

“Oh it’s alright, he made me agree to bring him up whenever he falls into a self-pitying spiral,” Anairë yawned.

“I did,” Finwë nodded, “I have noticed that I have developed a tendency to get laconic and mopey about the past of late. Anairë is good at getting me out of them.”

“Good,” Anairë grunted again, showing no quarter, “now sing something for us. Something you would have sang for her.”

“Anairë!” Eärwen chastised immediately.

“It feels embarrassing to sing in front of two beautiful woman when they do not sing along with me,” Finwë mused.

“Do not just let her bully you into it.”

“I don’t mind singing,” Finwë shrugged, “and it’s been an age since I sang. I wonder if I can even manage it. Perhaps if I have the right people singing along with me.”

“I don’t even know that language,” Eärwen protested.

“Hum along. It’s a very basic tune,” Finwë was becoming more animated at the thought.

“I can’t sing.”

“Nonsense, you are a Teleri.”

“He’s got you there,” Anairë straightened up, rubbing her back to ease the crick in it.

Slowly Finwë’s song lead them as Anairë had lead them over slippery tidal pools and rocks, and as faltering and unsure as Eärwen had been then, Anairë took the lead as they hummed to an old voice singing of older stars, their hands clasped tightly together.