The River. by hennethgalad

Chapter 1

   The Tower of the Sun was well named; Finrod had had as many windows put in as the structure could uphold, and it was filled with light. He had set it aside for Orodreth since the first building of Tol Sirion, and they had been very happy there.

   But still, as Orodreth sipped his fruit juice and bit into a fresh piece of toast, he found himself delighted that Finrod, even dear old Finrod, had left him in peace, with the castle all to himself. His wife and son were at the Havens; the boy could not get enough of his beloved ships, and there had been no peace until his yearning to see the great ocean again was met. As for his daughter, she was at the House of Angrod, studying the theory of colours.
   The theory of colours ! Orodreth shook his head, Finduilas knew her own mind, she was truly of the house of Finwë in that. But when he asked to see her drawings, as with any artist, she had become exasperated, and shown him messy swirls of colour, and patches of cloth or scraps cut from her daubs, all jumbled together. He had admitted his ignorance, she was not unkind, and tried to explain that art began for her, and those who thought like her, with how they dressed, and how their rooms appeared, and spread out into how they lived their lives. He had tried to speak of the Music, but she had pointed out how much greater was the elf reliance on the eyes than the ears. "It must mean something, father, surely it cannot be merely to save ourselves from stumbling ! And if it means little to Eru Ilúvatar, then we must make our own meaning, starting with ourselves !"

   Orodreth smiled and shook his head, she was so eager, so full of serious purpose, but what that purpose might be, he could not say. But she was young, there was time, time for them all to find purpose in this cold new country. He drained his glass and sat back in his seat, narrowing his eyes against the blinding sunlight, but enjoying basking in the peaceful warmth. His hound twitched in its sleep, whining softly, he wondered what it dreamed of, interesting treetrunks, or rabbits...
   The heavy curtain stirred in the breeze, summer was delightful at Tol Sirion, the mountains kept the worst of the storms at bay, and the river cooled the air. Thunderous already, the mighty Sirion poured the gathered waters of Ered Wethrin past their walls, hastening into the great gallop to the sea. Orodreth sighed contentedly, he had no appointments for the day, no one expected him to say anything or speak to anyone other than to say thankyou; he considered taking the new work by Lindir, "The Moving Stars" into the orchard to read.
   Of course, the orchard was no mere field of trees, Finrod, though he had never spoken of such things, seemed also to follow such thinking as Finduilas did, everything he wore or owned was so carefully chosen, and so richly decorated and, Orodreth had to admit, so lovely. The orchard had carven seats, and carven images, and fountains, and a natural spring which chose its own course through the flower bright meads.
   He contemplated whether to eat more toast, there was a fresh bowl of apple preserve, clear and golden, sweeter than honey, and he grinned to himself and heaped a spoon and let it drop onto the crisp toast. But just as he was about to bite into it, a guard entered, and bowed. Orodreth sighed and put the toast down, and raised an eyebrow at the guard, who bowed again.
   'Sir, the lord Gwindor is here with letters from Nargothrond, from king Finrod. And sir, a messenger is in from Barad Halatir, the lady Finduilas returns this day. Indeed, they have seen her and her people from the tower sir, she will arrive within the hour.'

   Gwindor was all Noldor, dark and tall, proud and clever, and a favourite of Finarfin, who had found a common taste in humour with the stalwart soldier, and had spent many happy evenings laughing with him. Gwindor had accepted the charge to watch over the children of Finarfin with great pride, though he had freely acknowledged that he would have followed the march whether or no, for the adventure.
   He swirled into the warm peaceful dining room, bringing a flurry of briskly cool air with him, and making Orodreth shiver for a moment. Gwindor bowed and smiled at Orodreth 'All is well my lord, no fresh tidings, no ill news.' He handed a scroll bearing the seal of Finrod to Orodreth, who took it with a smile and gestured to a chair. Gwindor bowed again and sat down while Orodreth broke the seal on the scroll and swiftly read through it. Gwindor was right, there was no news, for any save Finduilas, for whom there was a great deal of news.

   Orodreth sat down and gazed at Gwindor.
   'He says... You said... Do you... Is it...'
   Gwindor, who had known shy Orodreth for many years, smiled warmly at him. 'My lord, I have sought the permission of king Finrod to pay court to the lady Finduilas, whom I love, nay, adore. I would seek such permission from you yourself, if you do not think me presumptuous.' he sat up straight in his seat and looked gravely at Orodreth.
   Orodreth sat back in his seat, then remembered his manners 'I say Gwindor, do have some of this peach juice, or a little of this marvellous preserve.'
   'Thankyou sir, but I cannot think of eating at such a time.'
   'I... no... no of course not... sorry...' Orodreth blushed, and cursed his own blundering; naturally Gwindor was nervous at a time like this, and he had said the wrong thing again, he always said the wrong thing... Gwindor was looking at him, his face pale, his teeth clenched; Orodreth remembered the time Celegorm had fallen and broken his leg on the east face of Oiolossë, he had looked like that... Suddenly it came to him that Gwindor was so nervous that he was in actual pain; what must be done to help him... 'Ah ! Ah ! Does she, does my... does the lady Finduilas share your... does she wish to... does she love you ?'
   Gwindor breathed in sharply 'Sir, I believe so, yes. She has agreed to meet me here and to listen to my plea. With your permission, sir.'
   Orodreth smiled warmly 'I... how wonderful ! I hope for your sake that she accepts you, you are... you would be.. I mean... Well, I think I should have chosen you, you know, out of all the people... well...'
   'May I take it that you approve the match sir ?'
   'I... Yes, yes of course, how could you... I mean, why would I not ?'
   Gwindor nodded, then let his breath out with a great sigh 'Sir, with your permission, I will eat a little now, I could not sup last night, my guts were knotted like a tangled bowstring !'
   Orodreth laughed 'I know how that feels ! Oh Gwindor, I do hope she will have you, I... well, I am fond of you myself, and I know my father thinks very highly of you.'
   They both turned to the west, and were silent.

   Orodreth found himself more at ease with Gwindor than he had ever been, the thought that someone could be more nervous even than himself loosened his tongue, and they were still talking, and eating, when to their astonishment Finduilas was announced.
   If Gwindor had arrived in a swirl, Finduilas was a whirlwind; she had already kissed her father, bowed to Gwindor and spread a piece of toast before either of them had even risen fully to their feet. Finduilas looked from one to the other, then saw the scroll 'Oh no, not bad news, not today !' she cried and seized it. She had read it before Orodreth could snatch it away, and her cheeks burned red, but she did not glance at Gwindor, who blushed in his turn. Finduilas looked up at her father 'Oh how wonderful, Finrod is taking all his furnishings to Nargothrond; well, of course, those enormous caves, he needs something to cover all that bare rock ! And I am to have free hand in adorning this lovely palace ! And best of all, I no longer have to share the Tower of the Sun with you and mother, he is giving me the Kings Tower for my very own ! How kind he is, he is my favourite uncle, he is my favourite of all our family, except you and mother, and dear Gil of course.'
   'And I ?' said Gwindor hoarsely, then cleared his throat 'Of course, I cannot compare to Finrod Felagund, my lady, but I hope...'
   Finduilas laughed 'Oh Gwindor darling, you know that I will accept, why do you suppose I have ridden through the night to be here ? Do you think me so fickle ?'
   Gwindor sagged with relief, then smiled, though his eyes shone with tears 'No, my lady, I do not doubt you. But I have had ill-omened dreams, doubtless mere shadows, such as trouble us all in these times of seige.'
   'Seige ? Oh really... When was the last time you saw an orc, Gwindor son of Guilin ? But never mind such stuff today ! Today we shall be joyful, and pretend that I did not rudely read my father’s letter, and tonight we shall climb the Tower of Stars and under the open sky you may plead your case properly, by the soft light of Tilion.'
   She smiled warmly at him, and he nodded, his eyes shining with a joy that lit the room more brightly than the sun. Orodreth smiled himself, and remembered that these were young lovers, who had just become betrothed. He cleared his throat and stood up 'Well I... Well I must be... Please excuse me, my dear, I must...' and withdrew before they replied.
   Finduilas rose to her feet 'My lord Gwindor, I would explore my new home, I have scarcely had a glimpse of Finrod's tower, in all the time I've spent here. Will you accompany me on this quest ?'
   'On this, my lady Faelivrin, as on all others.'
   'Faelivrin ? How lovely ! Have you been down to Eithel Ivrin then ?'
   'Yes, it was as lovely as they say, and while I regret that I missed Mereth Aderthad, I cannot regret the peace and tranquility of those sunlit glades, and the many waters, the rushing and the still, and the golden light that made me long for you.'
   Finduilas laughed 'And here I am ! Come then, my valiant lord, and we shall take possession of our domain !'

   The Tower of the King was much like the Tower of the Sun, save only that it faced upstream, at the very point of the oval island, and the terrace followed the land to the tip; and set on the prow, as it were, of the isle, a leaping horse in shining silver watched over the churning flood of Sirion. Finduilas ran forwards exclaiming delightedly 'Oh, oh he is the most cunning of builders, what has he made here ? This marvellous horse, here, it seems to pull the island with it, do you not think so, Gwindor ? Can you not feel Tol Sirion surging through the water, faster than the swiftest ship ?'
   Gwindor, who had tried sailing and found it not to his taste, gripped the balustrade. 'The illusion is remarkable, truly, it is more like a ship than the ship that I was on, when Círdan took us sailing. But Faelivrin, will you live here always ? In the house of your father ?'
   'Why Gwindor, I thought you liked my father !'
   'My lady, I admire him immensely, I have climbed a few of his routes myself, truly he is the master of mountains ! Beside that, I am fond of him, and of your mother. But I would be lord of my own hall, with you beside me.'
   Finduilas moved her lips slightly, as though holding in laughter, but was silent for a time, then she laughed 'No, I will speak ! Is the Tower of the King too small for you, Gwindor son of Guilin ? Would you have the whole island ?'
   'Oh my lady, do not mock me, but try to understand me ! Do you truly wish to live always in the house of your father ?'

   Finduilas sighed 'Must we discuss this now ? I love this place, and I am thrilled to have this tower to myself, the Tower of the King ! At Tol Sirion ! Why, I am so excited I wish to run down the stairs in my long green robe with the elfstones on the hem, singing loudly ! And you wish to leave...' her voice tailed off.
   Gwindor looked at her and thought of all his carefully laid plans, of his formal approach to Finrod, who had gripped his hands warmly; his actual fear before the face of her father, and the long speech, as poetic as he could manage, that he had rehearsed until people had complained that he spoke the words in his sleep. But here they were, the moment was ruined, it would never return, the spell he that he had prepared could never now be cast.
   'Do you love me ?' he blurted, almost defiantly. She frowned slightly, blaming herself, her impulsive curiosity had ruined his plan, she must repair the damage, and heal his wounded pride. She looked up into his handsome face, his lips were his finest feature, they had set the fashion for the sculptors for a time, and she smiled at the thought of the many likenesses of them that she had seen. But when her eyes met his, the hurt in them wounded her, and she lifted a hand to touch his long dark lashes as though she could sweep away the pain 'Of course I love you ! Do you think that I deign to quarrel with anyone else ? I think you should kiss me now, to practice for moonrise, when we shall be betrothed.'
   He gaped at her for a moment 'Faelivrin ! Do you mean it ?'
   'Both things, darling Gwindor, I mean both things.'
   He looked down into her deep blue eyes, and touched a strand of her fine gold hair 'I love you.' He said simply, and laid his lips on hers.

   The roiling torrent surged around them, a fine mist of spray settled unheeded in their hair and on their robes. The river flowed past, taking each moment away with it, but bringing, borne on the unstoppable deluge, a new world, freshly made from the ruins of the old, a world far larger than they could grasp, or see or imagine, pouring endlessly past them as they stood still in the sharp prow, lost in each other.