Premonitions and visions
The subject was my grandfather Feanaro.
The Elves that discussed such things were unknown to me. One had golden hair, yet silvery with the sheen of stars, much like the Sindar, whom I would later meet. One was dark as most of the Noldor were, indicating her birth. They were ladies of Finwe's court, yet, I knew them not. I had little contact with such members as I did not live within Finwe's palace, and saw him only at family gatherings, where members of my family were informal and at peace, or else at occassions such as this.
The Fair One spoke first: " What of Miriel Serinde, how came she to pass?"
Miriel Serinde was the name of my grandfather's mother. Silver-haired, as was rare among the Noldor, and slender, she had been touched by Eru All-Father, for she had a gift which none, in her time, had ever equalled. Weaving. She was called Serinde- broideress- for such a skill. Many years upon the land of Endore- now called Middle-Earth, many would speak of how such richness of her weavings and such fire within their colourful fabrics, that seemed to come alive, it had been worth more than the realm of the greatest king upon Middle-Earth. In the years that passed, I would be given the gift of such brilliant skill and fine hands, and the creations of such weavings, that many believed could only be made by her, yet such fire within her had drained out of her, and instead had nourished the life of my grandfather, her son. I knew the story well, for although my parents had thought it best not to speak of such things to their young offspring, young ones are always stealthy, and I confess to having listened to such conversations regarding her with the Twins, Ambarussa, my uncles.
The dark one had spoken, "I too have heard such things. I know what they say. Yet I was present in person, when the Queen Miriel, presented her husband Finwe, our King with his first son. These speakers were not. Finwe wept that day, tears of joy, and, within minutes of speaking to the Queen, was ever more jubilant. He announced to all that the High Prince was to be called Curufinwe- the skilled son of Finwe- by his father, and his mother too, had given him a name, that of Feanaro- the Spirit of Fire. Yet when none was present, save the King, the Queen Miriel, and myself, a lady-in-waiting to the queen, she had spoken of how, after such labours, that never again would the strength to conceive and bear a child rest upon her, for such strength that would have nourished and brought forth so many more, had gone onto her one treasured, most beloved son. Our King had despaired at such words."
Many ages later, I would hear tales of human women bearing offspring and dying of such agonizing labours, but within Valinor, and to the Elves, such a thing was unheard of and unknown. For were not Elf-bodies made resilient and strong by Eru All-Father? It was a mystery that had beffudled my mind, tugging at it continuously.
The fair one spoke, "Was the bearing forth of one child so terrible that it compelled her to give up all the pleasures and joys of life?" her voice was incredulous. "For all of our people, the Eldar, the bearing and raising of a child gives naught but the greatest of pleasure and joy."
"True," the dark one spoke. "Yet when I had seen her, all fire had seemed to have drained out of her fea- her soul- and the strength of her body. She would never, and I knew this to be true, be the same. For though she loved her son, and her spouse, the Queen Miriel, took to the Gardens of Lorien, at their parting, believing it to be brief, our king had despaired. He called out to her, moments before her leaving, that their son would soon learn to tread, speak and dance, on the hills outside of Tirion, should not his mother be there, and miss none of such joys within his life? She had replied that she would indeed have greatly wanted to be there for such joys, and for her son, yet her body and her soul were so weary, she could not even weep! And yes, I believed, she could not have moved an arm by herself, for all her strength had drained away, unto the infant she bore. Yet she had pleaded that neither her husband, nor her son, should he come to realise such things, blame her for this, nor for anything that may yet come to pass. "
"What will come to pass that she would be blamed and not thanked?" the fair one spoke, with tones more incredulous than before. "What has her son done that wrought ill upon the Noldor, or upon the whole of the Eldar, or the Elves?" This I knew to be true, for I knew, at such a young age, twenty, small for an elda, that my grandfather had done great things. Not only did he devise our script, the Tengwar, for us to use, but also created the Palantiri, huge stones of crystal that can be used to scry not only the distant past and what to come, but the thoughts of the holders, holding any of the Nine stones, and to speak despite great distance to one another. To crown such glory he had created the Silmarils. Gems of graceful cut, but with such light from within its depths I believed, when I beheld them, that the light of the Two Trees was within the prisms. Never had I seen such beauty, within mere objects!
"True, that this, my friend, shall make a mother tremble with the greatest pride." said the dark one,
"But what of his treatment of the Queen Indis and her sons?"
"What of them?" the fair one asked. "He has treated them with all the greatest of courtesy and respect I have noticed, as befitting, not only the Queen and High Princes, but also his father's wife and his brothers."
"In such public notice." the dark one stated. "Yet, although I know he bears little amiosity towards High Prince Arafinwe, and none towards High Princesses Findis and Irien Lalwende, as they stay firmly out of his capricious moods, always, does the presence of his stepmother and High Prince Nolofinwe, prick, not like a thorn within his side, but as a knife, with wounds too close to the heart, no matter how they have tried to please him."
This I too, have gleaned the reason why. The Valar, pitying Finwe in his grief, when the spirit of his wife had departed, had promised him, that one day, he would know the joy of not only marriage, but also new offspring. Thus, not long after, Finwe had taken to wife, Indis, called "The Fair" for her golden beauty, kin of Ingwe, The High King of all Elves and King of the gold-haired Vanyar elves upon Valinor. The offspring that sprung from this union were four: The High Princess Findis, the High Prince Nolofinwe, the High Princess Irien Lalwende, who was referred to as "Lalwen" for her great joy and laughter, and the High Prince Arafinwe. Yet, I knew, my grandfather loved not his father's second wife, nor his half-brother Nolofinwe.
"Why did she not return, the Queen Miriel?" asked the fair one, and I knew that those of our kind who had departed may yet return. A chill stole the warmth of the room for me as I thought of the Feanturi, the Masters of Spirits, the brothers and Valar, Namo and Irmo, for these were their names.
My mother had spoken that although they were called Mandos and Lorien these were, in fact, the names of their dwellings. The Lord Namo dwells in Mandos, this I knew. He is the doomsman of the Valar and the Final Judge. All those slain during the perilous journey to Aman within Endore- Middle-Earth or those faded jn the grief of lost loved ones came to his Halls in spirit. He judges the wrong form the righteous. Those who have done wrong, suffer the Doom of Mandos- although I had yet to discover what that was, I shivered with cold fear whenever I think of such things. Those that had done good pass on to the Gardens of Lorien, to the dwellings of his brother, The Lord Irmo, Master of Dreams and Visions, the fairest gardens within all of Ea. After a while, if they so choose, their spirits may be given new forms, identical to the ones they had worn in their first life, to walk amongst their loved ones once more, upon the bliss of Valinor. Yet Miriel, the queen, had not done so.
"And so Miriel, our queen was taken to the Gardens of Lorien, whereupon, after laying her weary body upon the soft grass, she had fallen into a deep sleep, and in weariness, her spirit had departed towards the Halls of Mandos. When Finwe, our king begged the Lord Namo to return her to life, Miriel, our queen, had answered through him that she desired peace and demanded that Finwe leave her in peace! And thus, did the Valar decide that their union be dissolved. But why? For those that return bear not the weariness of their old forms. Miriel, the queen would have been given strength anew, to rear the son she bore, yet she chose not to return. Why? Did she foresee something within her son's fate, hints of darkness? That, we cannot know for certain, but if I were to guess, yes."
The words gave me a chill, for I knew that elven mothers had the ability to sense the future of the children they carry. My mother, too, had foreseen I would bring hope and joy, so thus, she named me Estela- Hope. My father had given me the father-name Eruvande- the Oath of Eru, for reasons I knew not of. But what could Miriel have foreseen that she would have feared to be present, to witness her son in darkness? Miriel had loved him, this I knew, judging from the tones of my family, and the dark-haired Elda. Yet.....
And in an instant. Itarille, my cousin, daughter to my father's cousin, whose presence I had entirely forgotten, drew me aside. To hide behind a pillar of gold, we went, not of glass, for then we would not be seen and she spoke, "Believe none of this cousin. For her words were spoken in malice and in the envy of those who witnesses great things wrought of the mere hands of a fellow Elda."
Yet I found it hard to believe nothing. "Itarille, I detected not a mere sentence uttered with malice nor envy!" I exclaimed. "Only belief of those that speak such things. She is a lady of the court, born before we were, witnessing things with her eyes, that we ourselves had not witnessed, due to our youth."
"What things?" persisted Itarille. "Your grandfather has created naught but wonder, not merely for the Noldor, but for the Eldar. Do you not know your own blood?"
This I did. But at that moment, I could not answer, for my father came towards us laughing with Findekano, Itarille's uncle and, still laughing, they scooped us up and carried us towards the rest of our kin.
Shortly after, Itarille and I along with the Ambarussa and Telperinquar were called to perform, by Macalaure, my uncle. Winking at me, he picked up his harp and played a lively ditty that made many laugh and clap their hands to the beat. My part was a maiden of Blazing Beauty and the Ambarussa were two hunters- brothers- who had the misfortune to fall in love with her. Yet her heart had been given only to the elder, while the younger- Telufinwe, had been loved, this time by a maiden of Gold. This maiden had been loved by another elf, and those who could not receive the affections of those they loved, vowed to make miserable those that had gained such affections, while those love-lorn chased their loved ones around Valinor. By the end, all in the audience had wiped tears of laughter from their eyes and they applauded the loudest when I acknowledged their enjoyment with a bow.
Then I had leaped into the arms of my awaiting grandfather, and by this moment, I had forgotten such ill words given about his person. But my joy was not to last for at that moment, Finwe's herald arrived bearing news of a visitor- The Vala Aule, the Smith himself.
"He need not stand waiting for an audience outside!" Finwe exclaimed.
And so he had come. And in the strength of his powerful form, more powerful than any of the Eldar, grimness emanated, he spoke, graveness written among his face and the tones of his voice,
"I bring you the gravest of tidings."
All voices stopped. All breaths, it had seemed. For as respectful as we were to a Vala, we also knew his news held deepest of terror, whatever it may be. My grandfather held me tight, as if to shield me from such news.
"Melkor has been released."
Gasps, from all around. Melkor, who had rebelled against the All-Father, and sowing monsters from the deep, had marred the world and created, from the pure forms and souls of those of our kind, creatures, so monstrous, they fed on their own kind's flesh. Orcs.
My father grabs me, and my mother's arm and hurries us outside. Up above, under the Mindon Eldalieva, the Silver Bell of Ingwe, in the Tower above the Palace, under the lantern, rings, in celebration no more, but in warning and fear, that the worse has yet to come.
We were thrust into the waiting carriage, and in the light of Telperion we were hurried away, my mother holding me tight, as if she could shield me from harm with love alone.
We drove off into the night, and the screams of fear accompanied us like the howls of werewolves that Melkor had commanded, ringing once more.
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