FINAL PARTINGS - Chapter Eight

Brushing and plaiting her long, dark hair was a favorite luxury in which Aegnor would indulge willingly, to the pleasure of them both. But the glint of light on a single silver hair stopped him in mid-stroke.

“Aegnor?”

With out preamble he stated, “Meldanya, we shall visit my atar. Questions are roused that I would have answered.”

Only a short walk separated their modest dwelling from the sprawling airy structure that House Finarfin called home while residing nearby.

“Atar?” The urgency in Aegnor’s voice startled the King, stilling his heart with foreboding. Long had he known this day would intrude into the peaceful life of these two dear children, yet he held at bay the dread thought, as if by his strength of will he could defy the unalterable Doom. Near panic now filled the eyes of his son, though untroubled curiosity graced the face of the one he called his daughter. Rising to his feet, he padded to the archway opening to gaze out onto a flower-flecked meadow and drank deep of the beauty before him, pondering the brevity of mortal life.

“Long have I known this day would come, and long wished it otherwise.” Finarfin’s voice was laced with sorrow. “Manwë, who instructed me in the ways of Men, advised against the delay, but at my insistence he relented. For the years of your bliss, I have no regrets; only now, being the bearer of cheerless tidings, do I grieve.”

Turning to face Andreth he held his hand out to her. She stepped forward and clasped his large warm hand, giving it a gentle squeeze of encouragement as though she knew already the topic was too painful to broach for this kind-hearted elf-king.

“Daughter of my heart, doubt not that you are in high favor with lord Manwë. A Gift unsurpassed thou hast been given, one never so bestowed ere now.” Tears sparkled in his grey eyes and with a heavy heart he continued, “And yet, as Manwë had revealed to me, the Gift of Ilúvatar to Men cannot be withheld.”

Pausing, he studied the mortal woman. A knowing expression flittered over her features as she closed her eyes. A lone tear coursed down her cheek, then she looked Finarfin squarely in the eye and nodded, unafraid and accepting.

Still she had to ask, her voice unsteady with emotion, “Will it be as before, when bent and stiff and unlovely with age I breathed my last; must I leave my beloved to remember tottering steps, wrinkled skin, bleary eyes, and trembling voice?”

“This at least will be allowed, that you remain hale and un-aged. When the time draws nigh, weariness and longing for rest will foreshadow your end. You may choose to lay down your life or to go on, but the pleasure of living will elude you and the decay of flesh will be upon you,” Finarfin intoned without emotion, for fear he could not bear even to say the words.

The choked sob behind her nearly undid her resolve, but she spoke softly, “For thy silence, for thy love, I thank thee, my father. The Gift, I deem is not an end, rather a time perhaps of waiting. If memories there be, they will be of love and song and this peaceful land.”

Aegnor came up behind her and wrapped Andreth in his arms. Leaning back, her head resting on his chest, she breathed deeply. Turning within that encircling realm of comfort, she gazed joyously at his breathtakingly beautiful face. Reaching up she stroked his cheek and brushed away the tears that flowed unheeded onto her gown.

“Aegnor, my husband, grieve only a little. Beyond hope we found a recompense for the years stolen by war and time.” Entangling her fingers in the wealth of his hair unbound in golden splendor she went on, “Once only in that time were my fingers surprised by this joy.” Pulling his head down, she placed her lips lovingly on his, “Once only did our mouths meet in such sweet conversation.” Stepping back she took his hands and pressed them against her breasts, “My body ached for thy touch.” Hugging him firmly she added, “Empty were my arms throughout the lonely and bitter years of my life.”

 “Each day with thee has been a dazzling sunrise, each word of love a gem of surpassing beauty, dwelling in a land free from evil and death, a life of joy and wonderment, a son as fair to behold as is his matchless father…” her voice faltered and breaking free of his embrace she spun about demanding of Finarfin, “What of our son?”

Hands held up as though to off-ward a blow Finarfin reassured Andreth, “Your son shall have the choosing, being neither fully Man nor Elf; this decision Ilúvatar has permitted.”

Andreth turned again to her husband, grasping his hands with hers, “So, my love, he may choose to stay with thee, this child of our begetting. With the whole of my heart I wish it for thy sake, my beloved.”  

*******

Bregor did indeed choose the longeval heritage of the Eldar, much to his mother’s delight. On Tol Eressëa, a special ceremony was devised for this unique event and many elves from Aman attended the festivities.

Manwë, regally clad in shimmering blue, was the one empowered to effect the actual transformation, speaking with the authority of Ilúvatar to transmute the Elf-Man.  Varda, radiant in sparkling silver, also gave her blessings to the highly honored family. Several of the other Valar gathered round for this was a gift undreamt even among the greatest of the Ainur. As it was near the shore, Ulmo deigned to appear. The exuberant arrival of Ossë caused a minor aquatic disturbance, but he was in such high spirits that no one could forbear forgiving him for the sudden wetting of festive finery.

After all had respectfully gathered round about, Manwë spoke a blessing upon the young Elf-Man. Following his words, there came a sudden wind, divinely created expressly for the re-fashioning of Bregor. Around him alone was the airy breath felt. His ruffled hair betrayed the unseen influence, and all fell silent in awe of the wonder of this gift granted by Ilúvatar.

Andreth noted the transformation of her only son. Body hair vanished and rounded ear tips now tapered upward to match those of his father. Heavier musculature was pared to a sleekly powerful design. His skin took on elven sheen, and his dark hair gleamed with added luster.

When the wind subsided, all marveled at the fresh beauty of the Elf who stood before them.  As he stepped forward to approach Manwë to give thanks for his intervention, it was noted that every movement had now a flowing grace. Even his somewhat roughened voice was smoothed and melodic.

For Andreth, this act sealing the lives of her husband and their son was both a relief and a dread, for she knew that her final leaving would grieve both in the most secret places of their immortal elven hearts. Yet they would be there to sustain each other when the inevitable time came to pass.

*******

It was many years later and far beyond the normal span of her kind before Andreth felt the first signs of the wearying. At first she kept it hidden from Aegnor, but inexorably it grew more demanding.

One bright morning, as she lay comfortably against Aegnor’s chest listening to the steady beating of his loving heart, she realized she could delay no longer.

“Beloved…” her voice faltered and her hand resting lightly on his thigh trembled, “the time of our parting draws nigh.”

“Do you think I did not know, Andreth? My fëa roused at the moment your fëa slowed.”

“I am less brave than I had hoped, Aegnor. Now that my days are ending, I wish them prolonged.” She began to weep.

He held her close, singing softly the song of his fierce yet tender love for her. With touch of hand and fëa he soothed her mortal fears.

“Aegnor, let us be as leisurely lovers once more ere all pleasure flees from this body that still desires you.”

He rose, leaned down to raise her to her feet, then scooped her up in his arms and strode off toward their favorite bower, her head resting on his shoulder.  

*******

“Andreth…Andreth?” the beautiful voice called her name, but she could barely respond.  Warm drops of rain fell on her face as she felt lips touch hers in a last farewell.

Rest.

She was so tired, wanting only to slide into the waiting stillness. Reluctantly her eyes opened to focus hazily on the grief-stricken faces of two magnificent beings.

Faintly she felt an urgent call in her inner self. Fëa-touch. The sensation was remembered briefly.

“Aegnor?” her voice was a mere thread of sound. “Bregor?”

“We are here by you, beloved.” It was Aegnor who answered for them.

“There is a Light! See there are beings made of the Light!” her weakened voice shook with wonder. “They beckon me to follow.”

Aegnor and Bregor each held one of her hands as Andreth smiled on them with something akin to pity. “Peace my beloved husband, Aegnor. There is joy also at this leave-taking. Bregor, son of my hope and our love, tell your children of me. Do not grieve overlong. My journey is bright with promise and eagerly I go forth. Fare well and live with joy for my sake.”

Her eyelids fluttered, then she closed them and reached out to the ethereal beings. Even the glorious beauty of the elves pales in comparison to these messengers.

Her last fëa cry was to her beloved, Aegnor, as she felt a burning wound within her, then agony sharp as a knife blade. Wordlessly crying out, she clutched for the severed strand of their bond, but it eluded her.

Immediately the messengers of the Light gathered her close and wiped away her tears, comforting her before guiding her gently into the midst of the dazzling brilliance.  

******

Aegnor crumpled to the ground, his face a mask of anguished loss. Bregor knelt beside him weeping openly.

Finarfin entered the chamber bringing with him wine laced with a strong drug for pain of the spirit. He handed the goblet first to Bregor, who appeared as one in a daze. He only held it, staring at the contents without comprehension. Finarfin helped him drink then led him to a low couch to lie down.

His grandson tended, he turned his attention to his unconscious son. Raising the golden head he roused Aegnor enough to swallow most of the fluid, then carried him to another bed near Bregor.

Before dimming the lamps Finarfin looked on the still form of the only mortal he had ever known and reflected back on her uncommon strength and strange ways. Her lips were lifted in a peaceful smile, the skin unblemished by time. Only the silver strands in her dark hair gave evidence of Mortal aging.

Settling her hands on her unmoving abdomen, he kissed her still warm brow, before departing to make preparations for the last physical journey of this unusual person who, with her staunchly enduring love, had returned his son to him and blessed both Aegnor and Finarfin with Bregor, the child of their love.  

*******

Now is told the full tale of the love of an immortal Elf for a mortal woman of Men. For such love is doomed to sundering, not to reunite until the end of Arda when the world will be made anew. It also gave me time to explore the expanse of differences between the them and to marvel anew over the incredibly rich and varied world brought to us by J.R.R Tolkien

I wish to humbly thank my friend and beta, Alassiel, not only for her skills as a beta, but also for her continuing encouragement to complete this story.