A Place for Such Joy as Theirs by Himring

A Place for Such Joy as Theirs

Read A Place for Such Joy as Theirs

I.

‘Oh no,’ said Anduniel involuntarily.

She had been a little girl still, almost, when the newly-wedded couple came to visit her father Valandil in Andunie. How they all had rejoiced, in the house and in the streets, that midsummer! Anduniel had been given a basket of flowers to strew before her royal cousin’s bride in welcome. How she had admired Erendis, the bright-eyed Lady of the Star-brow, their own Lady of the Westlands crowned with silver, just as everyone else did! How very happy and proud her big cousin had seemed!  The arrival of the Elven ship and the boon of Elven minstrelsy at their feast had merely served to heighten what was already an unforgettable occasion and nevertheless had seemed so very fitting for such an auspicious union.

And now it was said that the marriage of Aldarion and Erendis was broken and that each of the two had gone their separate ways, abandoning their house in Armenelos.

‘No,’ said Nuneth, Erendis’s mother, to Valandil, blunt in the face of the Lord of Andunie’s discreet inquiry. ‘I have had no word from Erendis. But I do know that she has dismissed the Elven-birds, and so I do not doubt that the rumours are true.’

She was ignoring Anduniel’s exclamation entirely. Valandil briefly frowned at his daughter. It was not, she thought, that her father was not also dismayed but, as a member of the Council of the Sceptre, he was already thinking through the ramifications: what this might mean for the House of Elros and for Numenor as a whole—and perhaps also of possible consequences for Andunie in particular. And maybe, with his better knowledge of Aldarion, he had had some fears for this marriage from the outset, as now it seemed Nuneth might have had as well, on Erendis’s side.

But to Anduniel this was earth-shattering news, as if a fight had broken out between the Sun and the Moon, as some said would happen at the end of days when Melkor returned for the Last Battle. Unable to contain herself, she excused herself quietly from her elders’ presence and went outside into the garden to calm down.

Erendis had sent the Elven-birds away, Nuneth had said. That itself seemed an incredible thing to have done to Anduniel. How bitterly angry Erendis must have been to dismiss such a miraculous gift, carelessly, as if such birds were sold on every street corner!

She could still visualize those two grey birds very clearly, with their golden beaks and feet. How sweetly they had sung in harmony together in Andunie’s halls that day! And would nobody hear them now in Numenor  ever again, because Aldarion and Erendis had quarrelled, apparently, about things that were difficult for Anduniel to understand?

She thought of that day that she had preserved for years in her memory in glowing colours, like a jewelled window, until now. She had been so happy, in her new dress for the occasion with her basket of flowers! And now that memory had cracked. Was it only she herself who had been so uncomplicatedly happy, even then, because she had been too young to know better?

It was a bright afternoon. The trees and bushes were all in flower, but Anduniel sat alone by herself, feeling a little foolish and saddened both on her own behalf and for the ways of the world.

II.

Several months later, Anduniel could have sworn that she was over all that and only worried about the situation in the royal household in a perfectly sensible, grown-up sort of way. But that morning she walked down to the harbour and, unexpectedly, saw an Elf standing there, between the fishing nets and the barrels, studying the crowd with a slightly remote, faintly puzzled expression.

She ought to have gone up to her and greeted her suitably on behalf of the Lord of Andunie. And she supposed she had tried to do just that, but encountering the gaze of those penetrating Elven eyes, what emerged, to her confusion and embarrassment, was: ‘I am so sorry! Were they your birds?’

It took them a bit of time to sort things out, after that. The Elf’s name was Cemnare and she had not been among the Elves that had come to Andunie eight years earlier to celebrate Erendis and Aldarion’s wedding. Cemnare had, however, been in these parts before, but earlier, before Anduniel was even born, when the harbour had looked rather different and she had been trying to catch up with the changes. She did seem to have some inkling about Erendis and Aldarion, though—who knew what means the Elves had of getting news—so that at least Anduniel did not have to give a full explanation of that part, which would have really challenged her limited aptitude for diplomacy.

‘I am a craftswoman, myself,’ said Cemnare, once Anduniel had managed to clarify and she understood which birds Anduniel had been talking about. ‘But I do know who trained the birds, although they are not Noldor. They learned from Elwing herself and from Melian.’

‘Are they angry with us?’ asked Anduniel anxiously.

‘With you? Why would they be?’ Cemnare asked.  ‘It was not you who sent them away; Erendis did, nobody else in Numenor. And I do not think they are angry with Erendis, either—disappointed, yes, to see fail what began so promisingly, and grieved because Erendis chose to deprive not only herself but her heirs.’

‘Then nobody else will be granted the sight of those wonderful birds again?’ asked Anduniel. ‘What about little Ancalime when she weds?’

Cemnare looked closely at her. ‘It seems to me, Anduniel, that you care more about those birds than Erendis, maybe, ever did?’

Anduniel felt herself blushing.

‘I do not think the birds will return to Erendis, ever, now that she has sent them away. When I am back in Tol Eressea, I will speak to the bird friends, though, and let them know what you said. I am sure that they will take comfort to hear that their birds were valued, even if their gift was rejected. But I can make no promises, you understand!’

III.

About a year later, Anduniel was walking in the hills near Oromet, when suddenly there came a whirring in the air, of grey wings and golden beaks and feet.

‘Oh,’ she said and, ‘oh, dear, dear birds!’

A pair of Elven-birds—maybe the same pair or others, she could not tell—landed on her outstretched hands and sang to her. For an hour they sang joyfully, with many cadences never repeated in their long thrill of song, and played with her as a friend. Then they wheeled away westwards again, flying high like specks in the sunlight, and sped back to the sea and the Elven lands they had come from. Anduniel knelt in the grass, weeping for joy that this hour had been granted to her, as well as because these birds could not or would not stay.

Anduniel chose to stay unwed, until the end of her life. But for generations, the women of the House of Andunie, when they came of age, would receive a visit from a pair of Elven-birds, who came and sang to them for a while, before departing again—until at last the bird friends in Tol Eressea feared for the safety of their birds, as the Kings’ Men gained power in Numenor, and then the birds came no more.

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Chapter End Notes

Cemnare is a recurring original character of mine who previously appeared in Kintsugi in Andunie.

Anduniel is an uncanonical daughter of canonical Valandil, cousin of Aldarion, and her name is from the RealElvish namelists (chosen a bit unimaginatively, but I felt it might be narratively useful to have her connection to Andunie flagged in her name).

Perhaps unnecessary to say, but Anduniel's outsider point of view on the marriage of Aldarion and Erendis is not intended to be mine. That I felt the need to write a fix-it for the loss of the Elven-birds does not mean I feel no sympathy for Erendis. (I have written more about her elsewhere.)