(This story continues from Return to Cuivienan )
We sat under the stars awhile, drinking in the light of their memories. After some time Estarfin moved seemingly absent mindedly to tighten the straps on his pauldron. Our converse on Cuivienan finished for the moment, my thoughts had moved on to another matter.
“I do understand, you know.”
He turned to look at me. “What do you understand?”
Shifting position I moved a little closer to him. I was want to speak softly near these ruins.
“That we cannot be sure what will greet us on the shores of Valinor.
Estarfin continued to adjust his light armour. He was listening.
“If one of the Sindar or Nandor, even of the Avari head to the Undying Lands, well…they know they will be welcomed. But we of the Second Kindred…we of the followers of Feanor…” I shook my head slightly.
“We know the Doom that was pronounced. There is little mystery.” he stated. For him, I believed it was still fact, unchallenged. But for me the words of the Doom were altered a little, not by the passing of time, but by certain actions. I would try to sway him. To plant the seeds of other possibilities, though I knew his stubbornness would be a barrier.
“That is so. But my mind holds to the hope that matters changed. The Noldor were offered pardon after the War of Wrath, were we not? Was it not said we would be pardoned by the Valar, and that the Teleri had long since forgiven us. The curse was laid to rest?”
I expected him to frown or shrug at me, but he was listening. Indeed, he looked deep in thought.
“Many took up that pardon at the close of the First Age,” I continued. “Some, such as us, did not, and for varying reasons. But I believe, presumptuously perhaps, that pardon still holds.”
He looked at me sharply, those sea-grey eyes bright with consideration. I pressed on, a Noldor trait indeed that I should have been more wary of.
“You and I were born in these lands. We did not ourselves reject the Valar, nor take part in the Kinslaying at Alqualonde. Our guilt is a bloodline guilt.”
Estarfin’s expression altered at that moment. “We swore the same oath when we came of age, did we not?” He looked questioningly at me.
And my mind was momentarily taken back to a day when I was nigh fifty years of age. I stood on a raised platform in the garden square, with twenty others of the young of the Palace. The air had been warm, laden with the scent of nearby honeysuckle. We began …
“Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean,
Brood of Morgoth, or bright Vala…….(1)
And from the palace balcony our Prince and his Captains bore witness.
“Did you not?” Estarfin asked again.
“I made the oath our King and Princes made in Tirion,” I finally said, my voice a little shaken at the emotion it still evoked in me. “But of the first Kinslaying we had no part.”
“No, that is true,” said he, in a gentler though still questioning tone. “But when was the Doom pronounced, before or after Alqualonde?”
I was momentarily taken aback by his question, then I smiled a little. “After, I have always been told by my tutors. It was a response to the taking of lives.”
Though learned in his own way, Estarfin was no Lore Master. Some knowledge I took for granted he, and many others, had a lighter grasp of.
“Then you believe we are not bound by the Doom?” He shook his head “I would not call you a fool, but that is a foolish wish I fear.”
“Nay, I believe we are bound. It lies on all those involved, the followers of Fingolfin as well as us. Though the House of Feanor most certainly bears the brunt.”
Estarfin nodded.
“All were under the Curse. All departing Noldor and all future children. But I find it hard to believe the Valar will maintain a curse for slaughter, when the Teleri have forgiven. And from what I know of the departures after the War of Wrath it seems to me those of our folk who left, believed they were forgiven.”
“And those that endure in Middle-earth, and come not to Mandos shall grow weary of the world, as with a great burden.” (2) Estarfin said. “Do you not grow weary at times? Is that not proof?”
“Weary? Of course I grow weary at times.” I met his glance. “But I do not give in to it. Neither do you. And so we prevail.”
His expression softened a little as he tilted his face again to the stars.
“We Eldar all grow weary. We are a dying race. Much of our vitality is gone, yet still many prevail. I think the real reason is we should never have been taken from here to Valinor in the first place. Did not Illuvatar place us here? Why then did the Valar see fit to move us?”
Estarfin sighed.
Alas, thought I, I had overplayed my hand. He had listened though. Now I would let him watch the stars in peace. Perhaps?
“I don’t think I will ever tire of them,” he said. Then, “I cannot know the thoughts or intentions of the Valar, Danel. What was done, was done.”
I felt I had given him thoughts to consider. If not that night, then just maybe another time.
“Come,” I rose to my feet, indicating a pile of rubble from the ruins, and beyond that a small hill, covered in wildflowers. “Shall we walk to find a better view of Tintalle’s works?”
He nodded to me, sensing the rich fragrance of the night blossoms himself as he rose to his feet. “This place must have been full of beauty,” he said.
I moved across the rubble, leading the way, to stand under a still vigorous holly tree. “All that was crafted here, be it gem or table, was exquisite. We had the best of the crafts folk of the Noldor and Sindar.”
Estarfin smiled for a moment, though I thought it not at my last words. I walked back to him, my expression curious. “If we remain here, as we may well do, we will live increasingly in memories. In part, I do not object, as long as we have the stars.”
He turned to me. “I was remembering Thargellion. That land was beautiful, that is without doubt. But the dwellings, they were strong, formidable.”
I bit at my lip, as I too remembered. “We were first and foremost a stronghold against Morgoth, no?”
“A bulwark against the darkness, aye.” he said.
My eyes misted a little, as I watched Estarfin wipe his own eyes with a fold of his cloak.
“I remember the beauty of the citadel, the homes, the forts, the arena, oh so many things. But always strength came first. And our parents built around Helevorn knowing time was of the essence.” I gestured around the ruins we stood among. “Here, we thought we had forever.”
“A naive thought.” Estarfin looked to me as though assessing something in memory. “Yet in Thargellion we thought we could cage Morgoth in. Both thoughts, hopes were wrong.”
I shook my head slightly. “Hubris?”
He frowned. Oh, his mind was on some track from the past.
“We are strong, we are capable. But we thought we were invincible.” Still there was that frown. “Oh come on, Estarfin. We were no match for a Vala. The Noldor alone could not defeat Morgoth.”
“I do not believe that,” he answered.
Again I met his gaze. “You believe we could have defeated him?” Such a belief was untenable to me. But he had listened to me. So would I not listen to him?
“We could not fence him in. That much is true.”
I nodded.
“But we could have crushed him, him and all his filth. Maedhros’s plan could have worked. I still believe it.”
Ahh, there was the event which held his thoughts. One of several I deemed. How many still bore wounds in memories of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad?
I nodded to him. Understanding where his thoughts came from, and knowing where they most likely led.
“If it had not been for Men?” I added softly.
“I remember seeing the banners of Turgon and Fingon across the field.” he said in a pain wracked voice. “We could have reached them. We would have reached them.”
I stood silent for a moment. I could not heal that pain in him. Only he could do that, though I would most certainly be at his side if he so wished. The wave of his grief crashed over me, and my own thought rose to swell the flood.
“I always thought if only we all had fought together. If only Thingol had sent his forces…if only Orodreth had committed to support us ….but to see victory snatched from us..”
I lay a hand on Estarfin’s arm, even as he moved to wipe his eyes again. “I am sorry.”
He tried to compose himself as he looked questioningly at me.
“I am sorry I was not there, again.”
“Sometimes it is hard, dwelling in memories.”
I took a corner of my cloak and moved to help wipe away his tears. He did not forbid me.
“Where were you?” he asked, in a genuinely questioning tone.
“My father..bid me remain in a ‘safe’ place.” I hung my head in shame.
He drew a deep breath, and nodded. “A wise choice, I think.”
“I remained at Amon Ereb, with a few others who were kept safe. Though I argued with my father that I was more than capable with a sword, and would join our Prince’s host, he would have none of it.”
“I had no love for that place,” he said.
“Estarfin, do you not see my shame? I was never in the right place to give aid in those days. I could never make a stand with our people. In a way, I envy you that.”
He frowned briefly, then seemed to understand.
“Not that I wanted to partake in slaughter…”
“No. None of us did. Yet I would not have wished to stand aside, neither did I wish it upon another.”
We each looked at the other for a moment or two. No more tears, no judgments...just a growing understanding.
“It would have made no difference. You realise that?” He broke the silence.
I laughed at the obviousness of his statement, perhaps a little harshly for me.
“I made no difference,” he added, then shrugged.
“I certainly would have made no difference, but if all spoke so then naught would have happened save we would have perished a little later. It is in my thoughts that each one of us makes a small difference, no?”
“There is wisdom in that.” He almost smiled at me, for his calmness had drawn away my momentary anger.
Then he walked to the edge of the river, looking at the movement of the fish underwater.
“What do you seek now?” he asked.
“Seek? Answers…rest….and for you to consider that maybe your destination is not to be forever confined in the Halls of Lord Namo.”
He watched me, but made no comment.
So I sighed. Was this to be the parting of our ways? I fervently hoped not, but as ever the choice was his.
“I think to move on from Eregion. We have both seen enough. I would travel over the mountains, though not the path we took to Dol Guldur.”
“No. That was a dark road,” he said.
“I spoke of looking for Cuivienen. It cannot be found, but I would retrace some of the steps our ancestors took. I would travel some way East. Crossing the Hithaeglir would be the first step.”
He looked...perhaps a little thoughtful.
“I have never been a student of history. Are there records of the journey?”
“There are. Certainly there are some in Lord Elrond’s library.” Did not my hopes rise then, that he was considering accompanying me. “And I have always been a student of history.”
He was pondering my wishes.
“I would not risk our…my welcome in the Golden Wood, but I would see Greenwood that was, and the Vale of the Andune, where the Nandor separated from the great host. “
And he pondered a little more. “It is further East than I would choose, but we shall see. It seems strange, but the further from the sea we go, the further away from….from home we are. ”
“That is an interesting thought.”
He smiled slightly. “I will travel with you, for now. Then we shall see.”
And the rose hued dawn was on the horizon that there would be no more star watching for a while.
“We ride to Imladris?” he said.
I nodded. “To Imladris.”
1) The Annuls of Aman HoME 10 Ed Christopher Tolkien
2) The Silmarillion Of the Flight of the Noldor JRR Tolkien Ed Christopher Tolkien
