All the Stars are Faded by ArizonaPoppy

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Chapter 1

“Finrod, Finrod, come quickly!” 

The call held urgency, but could anything be that desperate in this lonely high valley? Any animals would be kept at bay by the crackling fire; that could not be the instigator. And yet the voices sounded more merry than agitated. Shaking his head ruefully at leaving the comfort of his seat, Finrod followed the voices along the edge of the lake. Its cold waters reflected the deepening blue of the twilight sky.

Round a copse of pine trees was the source: his brother perched on a smooth boulder jutting into the water. Next to Aegnor was their expedition companion, whom he clutched at an odd angle as they both peered beyond the rock’s edge into the Tarn Aeluin’s smooth surface. Only Aegnor’s arm, wrapped around Andreth’s shoulder, steadied her from falling in. Her scarf had fallen away from her head, and now draped indolently across her nape. 

“What can be so important that pries me from contemplation of my cozy campfire and savory stew?” Finrod groused with a smile that belied his harsh words.

Aegnor turned from contemplation of the water to the new arrival. “Look, Brother! A bright jewel like unto Nargothrond’s treasure caverns crowns Andreth’s brow!” 

Squinting at the scene before him, Finrod stepped forward to look. There, in the water, it was as Aegnor had spoken: Andreth’s dark hair plaited around her head, and upon it all, over their shoulders, shone the first bright star of the evening, as if a costly pearl or diamond winked in the depths of her coronet braids. 

Finrod had to admit: it was entrancing. He made a wish on the first star that the peaceful contentment of their idylls would continue into the future. “And so I can see Aegnor speaks the truth, Andreth,” he said finally, still fixed on the mirror-reflection. “We shall never be able to leave this spot, ere my brother’s eyes grow dim from gazing upon it.” Finrod looked from the lake to the original. Fondly, he continued, “Truly, it is worthy of such noble woman.” 

A whippoorwill called thrice in the north, and then was silent. Andreth broke the spell, turning her head from the waters below to look up toward Aegnor. 

Aegnor smiled as he gazed upon her, crinkling the edges of his keen eyes. An intense look passed between them, held a moment too long for Finrod’s comfort. 

Feeling a trespasser, Finrod quietly stole away, leaving them in peace. His stew was ready to be ladled into the waiting bowls, but for now he would only make one serving, leaving the rest awaiting the others’ return. Munching on a bit of perfectly cooked carrot, he missed the easy flow of conversation that had been the hallmarks of their days’ ends. But he could tighten his belt against the loneliness for one evening.

Finrod mulled over the memory of the previous evening, turning it as carefully as the sticks of fresh-caught perch for their breakfast. The pink fillets smelled sweetly of the lake they had until an hour before inhabited. What had stirred his brother to behave in such a manner toward Andreth? Surely their easy friendship was a given. Had the three of them not dwelled so comfortably in each other’s pockets for this trip while Andreth taught them the best places to gather arnica and lady’s mantle? And yet had anything changed subtly over the last three weeks that would lead Aegnor to touch her so casually? Or for Andreth to unveil herself before someone not her kinsman? 

Spread on either side of the party’s fire ring, Aegnor and Andreth’s bedrolls were empty, puddled blankets nestled among the squashed heather. Finrod knew not the direction they had taken as they drifted away together in the dawn’s light. He had been occupied with luring their breakfast in from the lake’s shallows. His own bedding was neatly tied up to be stowed on his saddle, as this was their last day. 

Anor had just crested the ridge as the perch were done to perfection.

“An auspicious moment,” Finrod called to the two figures as they passed through an archway of  frilly pine boughs. “Breakfast is ready.” He brandished the flagon of steeping hot water for tea, a fine light vessel created by his smiths and easily tied to a saddle bag for trips such as this. 

Andreth’s veil was restored to her hair; her dark locks were once again hidden. Although she did not take his arm, Aegnor stood close enough to her side that their sleeves brushed with no awkwardness.  

Finrod poured tea for Aegnor, which he accepted wordlessly as he sat down on a log.  

Andreth sniffed the air and smiled. “The food smells wondrous, Finrod. You have outdone yourself this morning.” She placed a hand gently on Aegnor’s shoulder. “I’ll come back in a moment- I need to grab my plate and fork.” 

“Do not tarry, Andreth,” Aegnor urged, “for I promise I shall not wait long for thee, with how delicious it appears.” 

Her low melodious laughter rang out. “Very well, I will not be long.” She hurried off, the hem of her sturdy wool skirt catching the dew of the morning grass. 

Aegnor accepted the outstretched plate from his brother, seasoned to perfection with the small packet of herbs and salt Finrod kept with the cooking supplies. Finrod sat back on his haunches, stirring an extra spoonful of honey into his tinwork mug with its stamped rim. “And when will I have the joy of greeting her as my Sister, Little Brother?”

“I know not what is meant by this inquiry, Finrod.” 

Finrod took a sip of his beverage. The sugar rendered a buzz in his veins that amplified the already-existing agitation of bees in his chest. “If the House of Bëor asks a bride price, I shall gladly bestow as much of my treasure as is required, Little Brother.”

Aegnor slapped his knee. “Where is this leading, Finrod?” His eyes flashed. 

Finrod slowly raised one eyebrow. “We Elves may have taught Men Sindarin but have you taught her the difference between thou and you ?”  

“We are not betrothed, Brother.” 

“And yet so familiar with each other?” Finrod fixed Aegnor in his gaze over the mug. 

Aegnor had the grace to squirm. “I…” he spluttered. His face turned all the shades of a pink sunrise over the Pelóri. “We…” Aegnor quickly switched to Quenya. “We haven’t had that lesson, but we have an understanding.” 

Mood soured, Finrod resisted the notion to fling his mug and its contents across the clearing. Did Aegnor not want her to hear such an important conversation involving herself? Very well then, they could continue in their lost tongue. “An understanding? From all I have observed lately, I thought at any moment to hear a declaration.” 

Aegnor glanced at the edge of the camp where the horses grazed on their pickets next to their accumulated baggage. 

Andreth pulled her utensils from a saddle bag tooled with her family crest, as he swallowed several times. 

He turned back. “I can’t do it, Finrod. The time isn’t right.”

“When will the time ever be right, Aegnor? She cannot afford to wait; her people do not have the luxury of long spans. Would it not be better to have some happiness now?”

“With the unsettled situation in the North, there is no possible way that we….” Aegnor ran a hand over his spiky blond hair.

Finrod sighed heavily. Reaching out his hand to clutch his brother’s sleeve, Finrod pressed him: “You need to have a talk with her then. Let her down easy. If you’ve raised my expectations, you’ll certainly have raised her family’s. And King may I be but I will not commit a single century of soldiers to defend you when you break her heart.” 

Aegnor picked at his plate of fish, flaking it into smaller and smaller pieces, yet eating very little. 

“Why the long faces? We have some of the best food, clear air, full hampers, and a rushing brook to follow down the mountainside today.” 

The brothers looked up, eyes wide with guilt. Andreth stood just beyond the ring of sitting logs. Her hands clutched her plate and fork at her side.   

Aegnor set his plate on the ground with a thud. “I’ve lost my appetite. I’m going to water the horses.” He stormed off with a cloud over his brow. 

“Aegnor?” Andreth called after him. “Aegnor!” A frown creased her sun-kissed forehead as she sat down in his abandoned spot. “What’s gotten into him, Finrod?”

Finrod could not meet her eyes as he held out the last serving of breakfast. “I cannot say, Andreth." He shifted uncomfortably on his seat and offered it to her again.  "Please, eat.”  

Chapter End Notes

Thank you to my beta, EvilMouse, for the helpful suggestions. Any mistakes are my own. Thank you also to the voters of Teitho for their consideration of this story.

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