Faenwë seemed to struggle for his words, uncomfortable at being watched so intently by Seregrían and Ivorina. Which of the women unnerved him more was hard to say: Seregrían with her unnaturally bright eyes, or Ivorina’s wide-eyed and wary glances that recalled a wild thing being coaxed out of its den.
"I have long lived by the way of the wanderer,” he began, “with blade at my side, fulfilling my oath of old. I must admit that, coming to a land of such peace and calm – which is more than welcome, by the way! - caused my mind to drift back to the Wild, and what tasks and duties may beckon there. Yes, my own duties do call to me and I do not know if that call will ever truly fade.
“So, Your Ladyship, if you notice a thought behind my eyes that I fail to speak, or a restlessness in my step, perhaps that itch to return to my own sacred duty is what you are seeing.”
“These words puzzle me,” Seregrían said. “Is it your desire then, to take leave of the Household to resume these oaths of yours?” No sound was heard for a moment, save for the crackling of the hearth and Faenwë’s shuddered sigh before he spoke again.
“I speak of discord as though I am the one to banish it, but in truth I have discord in my own heart. You see, I have not been able to follow many desires of my heart for a long time,” he said as his eyes hovered over Ivorina, whose eyes were widening even more.
“I am oath-bound to remain in these Mortal lands and do what I can, be it with sword or not, to keep the Shadow at bay for as long as I live. This I have done, for as far as my memory stretches.” Another shuddering breath, then, “But I am ashamed, for I grow weary of wandering; weary of the wars that plague Middle-earth. My hope to keep fighting has remained strong for a long, long time.
“But as the years pass, I do begin to long for something else. A greater peace, perhaps,” he glanced at Ivorina again, before turning his eyes back to Seregrían. “So I suppose, kind host, that is what I seek from this place. Some measure of peace and stability after so long without it. Though to my oath, I am still bound...” Faenwë left that final thought hanging in the air and fell silent.
Ivorina blinked after the rather long tale. “Well, that’s quite a lot to process – it sounds like you’ve not told a soul such things until now.”
“I have hardly had a soul to speak to about it,” Faenwë said, “not any that would listen or care, at least. Perhaps it is as you say, Your Ladyship, this place gives an air of respite and calm, to be able to speak so.”
“I’ve always seen this place as a way to have an unlimited supply of wine,” Ivorina quipped, “though it does keep me up with modern events of all lands, not just of the Elves.”
“A fine use for a place like this,” Faenwë laughed.
“I merely strive to uphold my reputation for hospitality,” Seregrían said grinning, “and yes, I also maintain a watch of sorts. We keep well informed of the goings-on of other lands.” She then rose from her chair and sat on the sofa next to Faenwë, both he and Ivorina watching and intent on every word.
“Now, Faenwë, you have told us more than merely your words,” Seregrían began, “and the thought behind them seems plainer now. You speak of oaths and being constrained by them in your deeds and in your heart. Understand this, if nothing at all: to hold fast to an oath can be a thing both noble and terrible. Was not the Oath of Fëanor even so?”
“Mm...” Faenwë mused, with a hint of something behind his eyes.
“But as I said, oaths can be blissful things to hold,” Seregrían said. “My oath to Cutch and my children, for instance. For their sakes, I have turned my eyes away from the Undying Lands and shall dwell on these Hither Shores for as long as my line shall last. Oaths can walk abroad, good Faenwë, or oaths can sleep, same as we do. And it is no terrible thing to allow an oath to rest, and other thoughts and hearts to grow in the while.”
“True indeed,” Ivorina joins in, “sometimes oaths must conclude for the good of the next. I imagine your oath was upheld a very long time ago, regardless. The sword need not be put away forever, there may come a day where it is needed again, where Elven steel shines blue.”
“Ivorina speaks well," Seregrían said. "I would guess you have fulfilled any oaths over the passage of time, or at least honored them well.”
Faenwë drained his wine, and held his glass out for more. “Perhaps, there are other ways to preserve the light in this land other than the sword. Such as…love? And the goodness and harmony that comes from it?”
Seregrían’s eyes flashed to Ivorina, whose eyebrows rose. Turning back to Faenwë she said, “Love... yes, indeed. I myself waited six thousand summers before love found me”
“Ah, a long wait,” Faenwë said. “And was it worth it, in the end? Now that you have found it?”
“Worth every day, and every hour.”
“Good to hear, for many who live in this world cannot even say that much, that they have found it.” He glanced at Ivorina for a moment, meeting her eyes. “Well, perhaps long waits aren’t so bad - if in the end we find our heart’s treasure. To find it at all, even after ages, would be a blessed thing. And perhaps redeem all that came before.”
“It has, for me. For the long span of the ages, I despised Mortals - and here I am, with one in my heart and two children at my side. Faenwë, do I suspect you have, well, begun to “entertain” thoughts of the heart? Have you doffed the armor of your heart, even for a time?”
Faenwë nodded. “I have been entertaining them for a long time. But your words only stoke their flame hotter and brighter."
“And in the light of this new flame, can you see a face you recognize?”
Ivorina sipped again from her glass, leaning her arm on the edge of the couch arm, pretending to look at ease but in reality coiled like a spring.
