Rise Again From Ashes by Independence1776

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Chapter 21

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“And then Lady Nienna told me that if I had agreed to the original proposal, the Valar would have refused my request because I wasn't ready to defend myself.”

Glorfindel stared at me, shaking his head slowly. “So it was a test?” I nodded. “It’s times like this I understand why you think the Valar are interfering busybodies. I do not know why someone could not have just told you 'yes' straight off.”

“It's the Valar-- do they need a reason?”

He sipped the last of his red wine and reached out to pour another glass from the bottle on the table set in the courtyard. “When are you leaving?”

“Midsummer, after the solstice. I did agree to perform at the festival when Lindir asked several weeks ago.”

Glorfindel grinned. “As if you would have refused?”

I laughed and drank some wine, silently thanking Elrond for letting me raid his cellar in celebration. “The day that happens is the day I go to Lórien.”

He laughed and looked out over the ocean. “Are you sure you are ready?”

“As ready as I can be. This is the next step-- I can't hide here forever.”

Glorfindel lightly touched my arm and tossed back the last of his wine. “Well, I will come with. No point in you trying to move by yourself.”

I grinned, taking the glass from him. “Thank you. I hate to think what Narmincë would say if I showed up alone.”

* * * * *

Two weeks after the solstice, I reined the horse to a stop outside the decorative iron gate in the low wall of Narmincë's small house. My wife waved and pulled the gate open, giving us barely enough room to get the small cart that my horse was pulling into the yard. I jumped down and ran to her, whirling her around and kissing her when I put her back on the ground. To hold her and know I wouldn’t be leaving in days or weeks was fantastic. Tirn jumped out of the cart and ran over to us. Laughing, my wife knelt down and scratched his chest, which I was happy to see.

Only when Glorfindel pushed the gate shut did she stand and thank him. Looking at the two of us she said, “Do you want to eat lunch before we unload the cart? Also, I can show you around so we do not have to move things twice.”

“That would be wonderful, my lady,” I replied, and kissed her lightly.

She put an arm around my waist and led the two of us into the house. I whistled for Tirn as I stepped through the doorway, as I wasn't going to leave him alone with the horse in case he decided to pester it, and he ran into the house, Glorfindel closing the door behind him. Narmincë led us to a room at the back of the small house, where a table for three was set in front of the large window overlooking the backyard, most of which appeared to be a vegetable and herb garden, unlike the front, which was mostly lawn. It was different than many houses I had lived in over the centuries, and was far more homey. It was easy to imagine spending centuries having meals with my family here. We ate some sandwiches-- my wife having made them beforehand-- and after a quick tour, went to bring in my belongings.

There weren't many, mostly books of music, among them the few I had brought from Middle-earth, some knickknacks, and my clothing. It didn't take long to empty the cart, much of it ending up the studio Narmincë had set up for me in the second bedroom on the upper floor. Glorfindel stayed long enough for dinner, but left for an inn down the road since there was no proper stable for the horse.

I spent the rest of the evening unpacking while Narmincë distracted Tirn. Given that the light breeze was cool, I had the window open, thankful for the screen. It had been years since I had heard Quenya-- mostly the Vanyarin version here, not the Noldorin-- spoken as a part of daily life, since Elrond's household generally spoke Sindarin. Children were playing in the yards and streets of the town situated in the between a large plain and a forest, gleeful in the twilight. Conversations among adults weren't terribly hard to make out, though I tried not to pay attention to them, especially the one about what was happening at Narmincë's house.

Once I had organized my books on the shelves, I went downstairs to the living room to find my wife using my dog as a pillow, reading a book about jewelry making in the light of a Fëanorian lamp. Tirn just looked at me, but didn't move. I smiled at the sight, having used him as one occasionally.

Narmincë smiled at me and stood up, marking her place with a bookmark and putting it on a low table in front of the couch. Tirn immediately stood up, shook himself, and trotted over to me. I rubbed an ear before following my wife out the front door. Tirn began sniffing everything in sight, but Narmincë led me to a wooden bench underneath the maple tree. She leaned against me and I automatically wrapped an arm around her waist, breathing in her scent. I watched my shepherd out of the corner of my eyes, but he was happy rolling around in the grass like he was a puppy, though he eventually lay down nearby.

I watched the stars come out, brilliant even though we in the middle of town. In Middle-earth, I would have been lucky to see a sixteenth of them in a town of over ten thousand. It was a relief to be back with people who understood the importance of the night sky even in an urban area. Softly, so that only Narmincë could hear me, I began to sing. Right now, I didn't want to draw attention, only to spend time with my wife. After the song was over, she wiggled out of my grasp and sat up, grinning in challenge.

I joined her only a couple measures in, weaving a harmony around her gentle alto. We kept the song quiet, but a few people walking along looked in the gate, all but one person smiling. I smiled back. Shortly after midnight, too tired to stay up longer, we went inside. I watched her undress, and she smiled when she saw me looking. I crawled into bed, dressed only in sleep pants, and kissed her soundly when she lay down next to me. Her hands slipped into my waistband, but she removed them when I covered a yawn with a hand. “Tomorrow, then,” she whispered, and settled herself against me.

* * * * *

The next morning, I woke up with her arm around my waist. I lay there for a couple minutes before Tirn's pacing-- he always knew when I was up-- grew to be too annoying and I slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Narmincë, to let him out. Rather than go indoors, I happily stayed outside and watched the soft grays of dawn turn into pinks and oranges, lightening the sky from black to blue. The birds were singing in the forest-- there was only one street of houses between us-- and the air was fresh. That, I still hadn't become accustomed to. Many mortals no longer had any idea of what fresh was. When I finally came back inside, a hungry Tirn at my heels, Narmincë handed me a cup of tea.

“I'll show you around town today. Do you know much of the modern Vanyarin language?”

I shook my head and sipped the steaming tea. “Just a little.”

“You’ll have to learn it, or use Noldorin. Not many here speak Sindarin.”

I snorted into my tea. Thousands of years certainly hadn't done anything to unite the languages-- far from. Telerin was its own language as it had been in the past, and now quite removed from Quenya. Noldorin was still intelligible to me, though barely. Vanyarin was not. No one had been willing to give up their linguistic and cultural heritage-- or linguistic beauty standards-- to form a language with elements from both, no matter they’d evolved from the same language in the first place. It was of no matter to Elves to learn multiple languages to communicate. After all, the Exiles had done it in Beleriand. So I had to rectify my lack of Vanyarin given I now lived in a majority Vanyarin town.

While Narmincë cooked breakfast, I poked around the kitchen, learning where she kept things. After I cleaned up afterward-- it was only fair-- we left the house, Tirn on leash.

At this time of day, the streets were crowded, most people likely heading to work, and I wondered how many worked at the observatory and other scientific laboratories the town was known for. Rather than hurry, Narmincë took her time showing us around, stopping to talk to people and introduce me. I was uncomfortable with it, and usually didn't speak unless I was spoken to. Still, after the first couple times, it grew a little easier, though I knew part of it was the fact that I hadn't dared to get to know anyone too closely on Middle-earth. Talking with people I didn't know had caused too many problems for me to feel comfortable with it even nearly a decade after my departure. But I knew the reasoning behind the introductions-- to make it quite clear that I wasn't hiding nor trying to evade my strictures.

For that was what most people were curious about, and I swiftly grew tired of answering the same questions over and over. Children, on the other hand, were mostly curious about Tirn. I didn't mind answering their questions, though some of them wondered why I needed a guard dog. That I let their parents handle.

Still, I enjoyed the tour. Narmincë pointed out the library, the main governmental buildings (the town answered to no lord and functioned with an elected council system), the large amphitheater built into the side of a constructed hill with a large park on the other side, her favorite restaurant, and some other places, including the farmer's market where she normally shopped. It reminded me of some cities and towns in Middle-earth, from places around the world, but mainly Rome and Oxford. We stopped for lunch of cheese and bread at midday, which we’d bought from a stall at the market, eating in the park near the small river that bisected the town. Tirn lay down next to me, never taking his eyes off the food, though he was too well-trained to grab for it.

It was a relaxing end to the morning. Narmincë had shown me all over town, making it a point to show me how to get to the observatory and the other places she frequented. She wouldn’t hide me away or be ashamed of me, a fact I would be eternally grateful for. I leaned over and kissed her, which brought a gleam to her eyes. After we finished eating, we hurried back home, never letting go of each other’s hands, leaving Tirn outside so we wouldn't be disturbed in the bedroom.

* * * * *

Over the next couple years, I slowly adjusted to the faster paced life in the town. It hadn’t been easy, but I hadn’t expected it to be. Narmincë's neighbors didn't make a fuss at living near a Kinslayer, though I had found out only a couple days after my arrival I was the only one in town. That wasn't surprising to me, given how few of us there were in comparison to the current population of Valinor. What did surprise me was the lack of animosity many held. I had thought Tirion was an aberration due to the festival. Maybe Elrond was right-- the intervening millennia had forced the Eldar to gain some perspective. Of course, that wasn't to say there weren't people who didn't like me. Too many times people ignored me, and I learned to avoid one music store entirely after being snubbed one too many times. Tirn learned a new command-- to stand between me and everyone else, so I could have room, for some people tried to crowd me in order to get me to leave. I was further grateful for his presence, as he had prevented a few incidents.

But I wasn't letting my fear or others' prejudices interfere too much with my life, though there were times when it was simply too hard to leave the house. Those were the times I was glad I no longer lived alone, even though Narmincë didn't fully understand, she at least supported me.

I continued writing my family and friends, especially Grandfather and Vola, though Elrond and Glorfindel were frequent recipients as well. I even had a short letter from Mother, which didn't state much, but at least she was now willing to communicate with me. I was also making friends with some of the musicians in the town, though one of them made it quite clear that my unavoidably mortal-influenced music was unwelcome. I ignored him, though I knew he was only stating the thoughts of many of the Eldar.

As I grew more comfortable, I started tutoring, though I didn't have many students. I knew part of it was my lack of knowledge of contemporary Eldarin music and the history that led to it, part was my style, but the majority of it was my past. I could not deny that while most people were comfortable in conversing with me, few wanted to deepen an acquaintance into a friendship. It made for some lonely evenings, when Narmincë went out with her friends, for I knew my presence would be a damper. But there were a few people I did come to count as my friends-- a Noldorin musician, a Vanya who had lost both legs above the knee in the War of Wrath and used a wheelchair for mobility, and a pair of half-Sindarin, half-Vanyarin fraternal twins who were loremasters. They, along with my wife, encouraged me in the project that I had begun when I still lived in Elrond's house-- a song cycle detailing my years in Middle-earth. I had an ulterior motive as well: to prove to disbelieving Eldar that mortals were not inferior. Many wouldn't listen, but I had to try, to show my thanks to the people who had helped me over the millennia. It was the only thing I could do for them, and I would do my best.