22: Bathtime and Bedtime Stories

Sador noticed a change in Netilmírë when he returned the following week to the workshop. Where she had been somewhat emotionally distant before, she seemed warmer now. He even heard her humming softly to herself as she worked, something she had never done before in his presence. She had always seemed to approach her work with such grim determination, as if the clay were her enemy and she needed to conquer it. Sador had found it difficult to be completely at ease around her.

Now, however, he found himself humming along. The tune was vaguely familiar to him but he couldn’t quite place it and decided he must have heard it while in Mandos. It never occurred to him to wonder how Netilmírë knew it.

Netilmírë, for her part, was still feeling bemused by the encounter with Olórin and then with Aulë and she often found herself stopping in the midst of her days to reflect on that visit and the one after that....

When she woke, she felt somewhat disoriented. Lord Aulë was no longer there; she was alone. The sunlight streaming through her bedroom window was the deep golden shade of late afternoon and at first she had no memory of why she was in bed. She remembered watching Sador climb the hill towards the palace that morning... was it this morning? She lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece everything together but her thoughts seemed to move too slowly and she could feel herself becoming disturbed, even a bit frightened, at her mind’s inability to function properly.

"Perhaps a soothing warm bath will help, dear."

Netilmírë sat up with a gasp, clutching the bedcovers. Someone sat down at the edge of the bed and embraced her. It took the elleth several seconds to recognize who it was.

"There, there, child. It is well. Take a deep breath... that’s it. And another..."

Yavanna pulled away to look into the elf’s eyes, her smile warm and inviting. Netilmírë noticed that a wreath of wildflowers crowned the Valië’s chestnut hair. She wore a cornflower blue gown shot with gold and trimmed with an interlacing of vines that almost looked real to her eyes.

"L-lady, what are you...?"

"Hush now, daughter," the Earth-Queen said. "Time for that later. Come. Your bath awaits you." Yavanna stood up and gently pulled the covers off the elleth and helped her out of bed. Netilmírë felt dizzy. What was wrong with her?

"Nothing is wrong, dear," Yavanna said soothingly. "Your fëa has suffered a shock, is all. A soothing bath will put everything to rights and afterwards we’ll talk."

The Valië led her towards the bathing room but when they entered Netilmírë stopped cold. This was not her bathing chamber. For one thing it was too large. For another...

She started to back away, but Yavanna was behind her gently pushing her forward. The room was easily twice the size of her own bathing chamber, floored in white marble, with dark green quartz veining it. Fluted columns made from the same green-veined marble graced the room. A profusion of plants in a riot of hues and shades, flowering and not, filled the spaces between the columns and somewhere birds twittered. The bath itself was a sunken pool in the middle of the chamber and the warm steamy air was filled with the perfume of lavender, lovage, rose, and even peppermint, as well as the cleaner scent of asëa aranion.

"This isn’t my bathing chamber," Netilmírë protested, her tone bemused.

Yavanna laughed. "No, dear, it’s mine. Now, you’ll find everything you need. Take your time, dear. I’ll be waiting for you when you’re finished."

With that the Valië left her to herself. At first she was unsure what to do, but the bath was inviting and soon she was slipping into the warm water. She found all the paraphernalia necessary to wash herself and soon she was relaxing, feeling refreshed and at ease for the first time in a long time.

Suddenly, for no reason she could fathom, she was crying, great wrenching sobs that tore through her. She realized dimly what was happening: she was finally grieving. For too long she had denied herself the pleasure of grief, for she had found no safe place in which to indulge in it and so had locked it away, ignored it, denied it even existed.

Now, she realized, Yavanna had brought her to that one place her soul recognized as ‘safe’ and she was being given permission to grieve for as long and as deeply as she needed to. The gift being offered her was more precious than any Silmaril and she could not fathom the depths of love by which such a gift or its giving had been wrought.

In the midst of her tears she felt the presence of the Valië in her mind. *Grieve, my daughter. Let your tears cleanse you even as the waters of the bath cleanse your body. Lay your grief to rest and know peace at last, my child.*

And then Netilmírë found herself, not in a small bathing pool, but in a large pond. The fluted columns could still be dimly seen if she looked hard enough but there was no ceiling, only the azure canopy of the sky and Anar shining down. She realized the water was still warm and inviting and soon she was swimming, long lazy strokes that gave her pure pleasure.

How long she swam or simply floated at times, she never knew. The Sun did not seem to move all the time she was there. Eventually, though, she knew she had had her fill and desired to leave the water. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she was back in the bathing pool climbing out and finding a large towel in which to dry herself off.

Looking about, though, she could no longer find her clothes. Instead there was a soft nightgown that evoked memories of her childhood. Deciding it was better than wrapping herself in the towel she put it on then dressed her hair simply. When she was ready she opened the door of the bathing chamber into...

Well, it looked like her bedroom, but she was sure that the bed that took up half the room was not the one Voronwë had built with his own hands for their wedding night. And she was pretty sure that she had put Ezelmiril’s stuffed toys away a long time ago. She glanced around. Yes, there were similarities, but the differences were telling. This was definitely not her bedroom, yet it spoke to her of comfort and safety and she climbed willingly into the canopied bed, idly putting an arm around one of the larger stuffed toys that was sitting at the head of the bed even as she pulled the covers over her. It was almost like being an elfling again.

"And a prettier elfling there never was," Aulë laughed as he appeared at the end of the bed with Yavanna by his side. "You are looking better than you have looked for a very long time, Netilmírë," Aulë continued, a pleased smile on his face. "I am glad you finally allowed us into your heart once again, daughter."

"My lord, why am I here? What is going on?"

Aulë came around and sat on the edge of the bed, while Yavanna did the same on the other side. It reminded Netilmírë of her own parents doing the same when she was small.

"You must forgive us, my dear. We couldn’t resist indulging in our own little fantasy," Aulë explained. "I do not call you ‘daughter’ from a whim. You have ever been as a daughter to us, from the first time you entered our domain, wide-eyed and eager, and quite covered with clay, though even we were never able to figure out where you had found any. The nearest clay pits were miles away."

The Vala laughed at the memory and Yavanna smiled indulgently. Netilmírë blushed, for she had forgotten that. Come to think of it, where did she find the clay? She couldn’t remember and gave herself a mental shrug. Clutching the stuffed toy a little tighter she gave the two Valar a sly look.

"Does this mean I get a bedtime story and a glass of water?"

Both Valar laughed and Yavanna took the elleth into her arms and hugged her. Aulë reached out and ruffled her hair much as her own atto had done.

"I tell you what, we’ll supply the water, you give us a story," the Vala countered.

"What story?" Netilmírë asked somewhat hesitantly.

"Tell us about your newest apprentice," Yavanna said.

Netilmírë raised an eyebrow at that but complied as Aulë handed her a goblet of, not water, but miruvórë. "King Arafinwë summoned me to attend him, telling me he wished to have an ellon apprenticed to me. I was going to refuse, but something stayed me and I agreed to come."

"Do you regret it?" Yavanna asked.

Netilmírë looked surprised. "Oh no! Sador is quite gifted and will make a wonderful potter, or he will when I finish with him." She gave them a sly look and a mischievous giggle and the two Valar grinned.

Then she sobered somewhat, a pensive look replacing the expression of mischief. "Why do I feel so... so protective of him, Atto Aulë?" she asked, reverting to her name for the Vala when she was barely ten.

Aulë stroked her hair, invoking an involuntary purr of pleasure from the elleth. "The reasons will become clearer in time. Continue teaching him and supporting him. He has not had an easy life and he still suffers for it."

She felt tears forming and she sniffed. "He was only sixty-eight, Atto. He was only..."

Aulë took her into his arms and rocked her. "Yes, my daughter. He was very young, but others there were who were even younger when they died. Treat him gently, child, as gently as we’ve treated you. I do not think you will regret it."

After another brief hug from both Valar, Netilmírë found herself feeling sleepy and before long she was lying back into soft pillows, the coverlet tucked around her.

"’Night, Atto Aulë, ’night Emmë..." She was asleep before she could complete the words.

Yavanna bent down and kissed this Child whom Ilúvatar had given into her care. "Good night, my darling. Sleep well."

****

Námo was waiting for them when they emerged from the bedroom where Netilmírë would sleep for the night, though she would waken in her own bed in her own home when morning came.

Aulë went to his brother Vala and took him by the shoulders and kissed him on the brow. "Thank you, brother," he said simply and stepped back.

"I only wish I could have helped you earlier." Námo’s expression was sad.

Yavanna shook her head. "Nay, brother, words cannot express what my spouse and I feel. With your help our beloved daughter has returned to us." She opened her arms and Námo welcomed her embrace. Aulë joined them and for a time that was timeless the three Valar were as one with their love for one another, now joined by a Fourth, whose love embraced them all, including the elleth sleeping peacefully in the other room.

****

Words are Quenya.

Atto: Hypocoristic form of Atar: Father.

Emmë: Hypocoristic form of Amillë: Mother. A variant of ammë.