Whither Lies the Heart by cuarthol

Whither Lies the Heart

Read Whither Lies the Heart

He captures her heart, that fair Noldorin prince who brought the sunlight in his hair and moonlight in his smile and all the host of heaven in his eyes.  Ernis’s father treats with the second-come, the ones who were left behind.  It awes her, their fortitude.  She finds herself smiling more warmly, laughing more readily, singing more sweetly when she thinks he is watching.

Ernis never grows to love the stone towers of her husband’s people.  She endures it for love of him - indeed, she would endure much for he whom she had chosen - but often her feet lead her to wander once again in the open hills and the sparse forests of her home.

Even after she bears him children, her desire to wander cannot be appeased but by the doing.  With Erien upon her back, her feet take her to the very shores of the sea, the taste of salt on her tongue and sand between her toes.  She visits the home of her husband’s kin and they are eager to meet their new niece.

With Finbor still suckling at her breast, she wades into the pools of Ivrin and drinks deep of its waters of renewal.  There she bathes, she and her children, and tells the stories of their mother’s people from long before the sun rose.  

She knows he worries, but Barad Eithel is but a waypoint on her endless journey; and while she strays far across the land, she never remains gone for more than a season or two, always returning to his arms and his bed, until she can once again no longer bear to be confined and the wind calls her to come and follow.

No matter how she loves him, she can never be fully happy but to be on her way.  Drawing her scarf tight about her head, drawing her satchel across her shoulder, she follows the clouds and dances in the rivers.

In time, Finbor no longer follows, finding delight in the skills of the Noldor, their art of swords and strategies.  But Erien is ever at her mother’s side, walking the long leagues under starlight.

Erien has yet little thought of love or marriage.  She has little thought of much beyond the uses of the plants and the movement of the stars, the coming and going of the birds with the seasons and the secret names of the hills over which she roams.  So it might have continued but for a Spring when more fair princes of the Noldor come to visit.

As her family gathers, her father puts his arm around her shoulder and smiles proudly.  “May I present my daughter, Erien,” he says, and the words swell her chest and warm her heart.

She curtsies before them - these golden princes Angrod and Aegnor, the fair lady Eðellos, but it is upon Orodreth her gaze lands.

Though their fathers seem most eager for Finbor and Orodreth to become friends, whenever she is close to him they fall easily into conversation, his manner light and his laughter warm.  He speaks softly yet with a depth of feeling she cannot help but feel drawn to.  The more time she passes in his company the more she longs to remain so.

When their guests depart to return to Dorthonion, she wanders at first through the fields and forests, aimless and forlorn, until at last she cannot bear it.

“I have walked the length and breadth of Hithlum, tasted the waters of Neverast, trod the ices of Lammoth, and climbed the mountains which encompass Dor-Lómin.  But now my heart desires to see the highlands of Dorthonion, and thither I shall go.”

Fingon kisses her brow tenderly.  “Go,” he says.  “With my leave and my love.  For I have seen where your heart lies, and I am certain you have planted it in fertile soils.”

Ernis embraces her also, but she weeps, for her daughter has found her own path at last and she will no longer shadow her own.

Thus Erien sets her face to the rising sun and goes.  She crosses the Ered Wethrin, passing through Eithel Sirion where her grandfather dwells, before continuing on to the heather-filled hills and tall, fragrant pines of Dorthonion.  It is wild and strange, and despite her reason for coming she cannot but tarry at every new plant and songbird.

It is not until autumn has grown late and the snows begin to fall that she at last comes to the fortress of Ost-na-Thuin upon the northern slopes, shining tall and white, with great banners flying from its walls and ramparts.

Throughout her journey she had often turned her mind to what she would say upon her arrival, how she would win the love of Orodreth.  She constructed many pretty phrases she might use, and even some polite excuses to spare them both should it be clear that he did not share her affections.

What she never dreamed of was to be escorted into the great hall and find her father, mother, and brother all merry guests within.  So certain was Fingon of Orodreth’s feelings, they had set out shortly after she left, riding with a company across Ard-galen and coming to Ost-na-Thuin a full season ahead of her, bearing a number of gifts for his cousins, and a trunk of Erien’s things.

Both families are overjoyed when beneath the bright stars and clear skies of a long winter’s night, Erien and Orodreth are wed.

Like her mother, Erien is ill at ease staying in one place for too long.  Sometimes Orodreth accompanies her on her wanderings, and her feet carry her even as far as Ossiriand, wishing to touch each of the seven rivers which flow there.

When in the fullness of time Finduilas is swaddled and laid upon her breast, she whispers to her of all the many lands through which they will journey, the lands of her mothers who will not be tamed, who wander with the wind and drink from Ivrin.

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Chapter End Notes

This is part of my Angrod & Fingon: Grandfathers of Gil-galad agenda