48: The Last Days of Light

The second day of the festival was devoted to games and physical competitions in gymnastics, wrestling, and various types of races. On the third day, Aldúya, the Elves would process to Ilmarin, where they would dance and sing on the lower slopes of Taniquetil in honor of the Valar and make merry. It was Manwë’s intention that some kind of reconciliation would also be effected between Fëanáro and Ñolofinwë on that day. The fourth day would be devoted to other types of competitions in the arts: singing, dancing and the playing of instruments. Findaráto planned on competing against other harpists, playing the harp given to him by Lord Manwë. Ingwion, Ingalaurë and Indil were planning to enter as a group. Ingwion would play his flute while Indil would play her lute. She and Ingalaurë would sing a duet in honor of the Trees which Ingalaurë had composed and Ingwion had set to music. Ingalaurë would take the part of Telperion while Indil would be Laurelin. On the fifth and final day of the festival there would be a grand feast in Ilmarin in which the Valar themselves would sit among the Elves, eating and drinking in their presence, in honor of the first fruits of the land and in thanksgiving to Eru.

Soon after First Mingling on the second day, the Noldorin royal family, along with Ingwë and his family, went to the mansion of the Elder King and the Elentári for the Presentation of Itarildë to the Valar. They were gaily attired with flower wreaths in their hair and as they made their way into the mansion they sang the traditional hymn Vëasselindë, welcoming a new life. They came into the main audience chamber of the Elder King to find all the Valar there arrayed in majestic splendor, their own heads bound with flower wreaths, all except Varda, who had her crown of living stars. They, too, were singing the hymn and when the final verse was sung the Elves made their obeisance to Lord Manwë and Lady Varda. Then Turucáno and Elenwë stepped forth, holding their daughter by the hand to present her to the Valar.

“My Lord Manwë,” Turucáno said proudly, “allow us to present Itarildë, our first-born daughter, both of our hröar and our fëar.”

“She is our hearts’ desire and our joy,” Elenwë said, smiling lovingly upon both husband and daughter.

“We thank you, My Children, for presenting your daughter to us,” Manwë replied, opening his arms to receive the child, setting her on his knees and giving her a kiss. “May Eru bless thee, my child, and mayest thou be a joy and delight to thy parents.”

Then he gave her to Varda who also kissed her. “Be welcome, my child, to thy family, and to the community in which thou hast been born.”

Varda returned Itarildë to her parents and, beginning with Aulë and Yavanna, they went to each of the other Valar so that their daughter could receive their blessing. As was tradition, they came last to Lord Námo. All along Itarildë had been amenable to being held by these strange people and fawned over, as was only her due, but when her atto and ammë brought her before the Lord of Mandos, she became suddenly shy and would not leave her atto’s arms, burying her head into his shoulders. Turucáno whispered something in his daughter’s ear but she just shook her head and refused to look up. He gave Námo an apologetic look and Elenwë appeared embarrassed.

Námo had the ghost of a smile on his face, not at all upset by the child’s reaction, for it was typical. It was the rare child who did not instinctively shrink from his presence. He gently placed a hand on her head and felt her trembling slightly at the touch. Normally, he would give the same blessing as all the other Valar had given, though occasionally some foresight into the child’s destiny would impinge upon his consciousness and he might speak of that. He was always careful, however, to keep his words vague, not wishing to unduly influence the parents who might try to force or prevent the foreseeing from occurring.

As he stroked the elleth’s hair, sending soothing thoughts to still her trembling, he started to speak the blessing that was expected but suddenly he saw Itarildë: she was an adult and beside her stood one who was like yet unlike one of the Firstborn and Námo felt a frisson of awe as he beheld for the first time in a vision one of the Secondborn Children of Eru. In the Man’s arms he held a babe and both he and Itarildë were presenting the child to Turucáno, a Turucáno who was graver and somehow more careworn than the smiling young atar standing before him. It was obvious to Námo that he was seeing a future Presentation of the Heir and that the child was the offspring of the Mortal with Itarildë. He heard the Mortal say, “....our son, Eärendil...” and then the vision faded.

He glanced down at the elleth still nestled in her atar’s arms and only his fellow Valar knew that something of import had occurred. Námo forced himself to smile for the benefit of the Elves in attendance. “Thou, Itarildë, art beloved of Eru Ilúvatar and hast His favor,” he said. “Nai calambar nauvalyë ter coivierlya.” He withdrew his hand from the child’s head.

Turucáno and Elenwë had pleased looks on their faces as they made their obeisance to the Lord of Mandos. “Thank you, my lord, for your blessing,” Turucáno said and Elenwë murmured her own thanks before they returned to stand before Manwë with the rest of the family. Manwë turned to Findaráto and Amarië with a smile.

“Your own special day is coming soon, is it not?” he asked them.

Findaráto and Amarië smiled at one another before the ellon turned his attention to the Elder King. “Yes, in twelve weeks,” he said as he took Amarië’s hand. “And frankly, it cannot come soon enough for either of us.” Amarië nodded but did not otherwise speak.

“May you both know joy,” Manwë replied and then he gave them his blessing. “But you should not linger here, My Children,” he then said. “The games will begin shortly, and I know some here wish to compete. Go now and enjoy the day.”

They all gave him their obeisance and then Ingwë smiled at Ñolofinwë as the families began to leave. “Your granddaughter is much better behaved than our own children were when they were presented to the Valar for the first time.”

Ñolofinwë and Arafinwë and their wives laughed. “Indeed,” Ñolofinwë replied, then turned to Turucáno. “Tell me, yonya, how have you managed to produce such a biddable child when you were a holy terror the day we presented you to Lord Manwë?”

“That was easy, Atar,” Turucáno answered with a smirk. “I told her that if she behaved herself she would get an extra helping of sweets at the feast.”

“Now why didn’t we think of that?” Arafinwë commented to Eärwen and everyone started laughing.

When the Elves were gone, silence reigned in the throne room for a moment or two and then Manwë turned to Námo. “What did you see?” he asked.

“The child, but an elleth grown,” he answered readily enough, knowing that this was needful. “She was presenting her own child, a son, to Turucáno along with one who will be her husband.”

“An interesting vision,” Manwë said, “but I fail to see its significance.”

Námo hesitated for a second before answering. “Itarildë’s husband will not be one of the Firstborn,” he said quietly, not quite looking at Manwë as he spoke.

There was a brief silence while the others tried to understand what their brother was not saying. Then Manwë’s eyes brightened. “You mean he will be one of the Secondborn.”

“Yes,” Námo replied, “and the son’s name will be Eärendil. I deem he will prove to be important to us all, though in what manner I have not seen.”

“A Mortal!” Nessa exclaimed. “But how? Will the Younger Children be permitted to dwell in Aman, for how else would this Mortal Man and Itarildë meet?”

Námo shook his head. “I do not know, sister,” he said. “I only know what I have been given to see.”

“And we are grateful for you sharing the vision with us,” Manwë said with a nod. “But come, let us put aside the future for the present and join the Children in watching the competitions. Would anyone care to wager against Turucáno winning the wrestling match?”

There were chuckles all around. “I would rather wager on how many ellyn will drop out of the races when Arafinwë’s daughter decides to compete,” Námo replied and now there was genuine laughter as the Valar thought themselves to the fields to the south of the city where the games were being held.

****

Turucáno did indeed win his wrestling matches but only one ellon dropped out of the races when he learned that Lady Artanis intended to compete, so no one won that bet. The competitions were friendly and there was much applause for all the competitors from the spectators and it seemed that it mattered not if a Vanya won a particular match or a Noldo. All rejoiced in the winning. When the final competition ended, the Elves remained where they were, sitting in small groups of families and friends and picnicking while elflings ran about in play. Itarildë did indeed get an extra helping of sweets, much to her delight and the amusement of her family.

Soon after the picnic ended, many of the Elves, mostly Vanyar, began packing up and heading back to Vanyamar to prepare for the next day’s festivities. The Noldor and those who lived in Eldamas would remain in Valmar until First Mingling when they would then head for Taniquetil, arriving there before Second Mingling. Manwë had already warned Ñolofinwë of his command to Fëanáro to appear before the Valar in Ilmarin at that time.

“For I would see you both reconciled one to another,” he told the ellon.

Ñolofinwë nodded. “As would I,” he said.

And so, as the Trees blended their silver and gold lights and the bells of the Mindon Nyellion went silent, the Elves went forth from Valmar, dressed in white and blue, singing praises to the Valar and to Eru. Ingwë and Elindis led the procession along with the other members of the Vanyarin and Noldorin royal families. Maiar were also there, mingling with the Elves and joining in the singing. And though the music was joyful, yet the voices and instruments of the Noldor held notes that were more sweetly sad than had ever been heard before, for they mourned the fact that their kin residing in Formenos had deigned not to come and thus there was no chance for full reconciliation between the two groups.

Yet, in spite of this, the procession was merry and they did not hurry. They stopped at times to allow the elflings to rest while the Maiar went about providing them with food and drink. Eventually, when Telperion was at the height of his radiance, they reached the outskirts of Vanyamar and were then joined by those awaiting them there. Then all ascended the mountain, though here and there small groups broke away to sing and dance on the green slopes facing the Trees while the rest continued to Ilmarin. Still, the vast majority of the Noldor, along with the royal families, came into the central courtyard of Ilmarin to be greeted by Eönwë and his sister, Ilmarë. Both Maiar bowed to the Elves in greeting and welcomed them. Turucáno, however, noticing his daughter becoming fractious, asked that he and Elenwë be excused from meeting with the Valar and Ñolofinwë readily gave his permission.

“She is both hungry and tired,” he said, giving his granddaughter a fond smile and ruffling her hair. “It has been too long a day for her. Go and we will join you once the audience with the Valar is ended.”

Ilmarë smiled at the child, placing a gentle hand on Itarildë’s head. “I will show you where pavilions have been set up for the feast while my brother escorts the others,” she said and both parents gave her grateful looks as they followed her through an arch leading into another courtyard while the rest continued on.

The Herald of Manwë led them into the main throne room where they were warmly greeted by the Valar. Manwë gestured for Ñolofinwë to approach. “Thy brother hath come,” he said, “and awaiteth our pleasure.” He signaled to Eönwë who went to another door leading to one of the antechambers off the throne room. In a moment, Fëanáro appeared, coming to stand before Manwë’s throne. He did not bother to offer the Elder King his obeisance, but stared almost defiantly at Ñolofinwë, who returned his gaze with a look of dismay, for Fëanáro was not dressed in any festival finery, but rather in a plain linen tunic of dark grey with only the barest of embroidery. He wore no ornamentation, neither silver nor gold, neither did he have with him the Silmarils, denying the sight of them to the Valar and Eldar, much to the disappointment of many who had hoped to see them.

What the Valar thought of Fëanáro’s appearance, none of the Eldar could say, for they all sat on their thrones with unreadable expressions. An uncomfortable silence settled on those assembled there until Manwë finally spoke, addressing them all, though his eyes were ever on Fëanáro who continued to glare at Ñolofinwë.

“Behold, O My Children, my heart is sad towards you, for I fear that Melkor’s poison has lodged in your hearts and you are full of discontent, becoming covetous in your dealings with one another. Yet, without the Valar who brought you to the light and gave you all the materials of your craft, teaching your first ignorance, none of the fair things you love now so well ever would have been... including the Silmarils.” He paused for a moment, gazing intently at Fëanáro as if to gauge his reaction, but the ellon’s gaze had shifted to his feet and he never looked up. “But of more worth than all the glory of Valinor and all the grace and beauty of Tirion is peace and happiness and wisdom,” he continued in a commanding voice, speaking now more directly to the assembly of Elves, “and these once lost are harder to recapture. I have brought you together in the hope that we might put this unrest behind us. I implore you, My Children, cease this murmuring against us and each other. Do not attempt to set yourselves in your hearts as equals to our majesty. Rather repent you of your discontent, knowing full well that Melkor has wrought this evil against you, and that it is because you harkened to him these things have come to pass. Trust not in any who whisper secret words of discord among you, for its fruit is humiliation and dismay.”

He stopped and sighed and it was as if all Arda sighed with him. The Elves stirred and there were guilty looks on some of their faces while others appeared more thoughtful. Then Manwë addressed Fëanáro directly. “It grieves me greatly that your atar and those who abide in Formenos refused our invitation to join us in these festivities. I know, too, that their absence is a grief to the Noldor of Tirion who hoped to look once again upon kith and kin.”

“It is, lord,” Ñolofinwë said, “and I especially am grieved that my atar and my nephews refused thine invitation. Yet, glad I am that at least Fëanáro is here that we may reconcile with one another.”

“I am here not of my own free will,” Fëanáro said, finally looking up, glaring at Manwë. “Nor do I come to make merry and act as if naught has happened between us.”

“Yet thou art here,” Manwë pointed out, “and it is time that you two princes of Eldamar put aside your feud.”

“There was no feud, as far as I am concerned,” Ñolofinwë said. “I never sought to supplant thee in our atar’s love, Fëanáro, nor rob thee of thy birthright.”

“So thou sayest,” Fëanáro replied, his tone one of disbelief.

Ñolofinwë nodded. “So I say, and the Valar hear me that I speak the truth. As I promised, I release thee and remember no grievance.” He took a step forward and held out his hand.

Fëanáro just stood there, staring at Ñolofinwë’s outstretched hand. Ingwë stepped forward then, placing a hand on Fëanáro’s shoulder to get his attention. “Wouldst thou hold on to thine anger for all the ages of Arda, child?” he asked, his tone gentle. “Come. Be at peace with thy brother. This grudge against him does thee no credit but rather reflects badly on all the Noldor.” He paused for a moment and looked about him, noticing the soft light that filtered through the embrasures of the throne room. “The Lights of the Trees are beginning to mingle,” he said with a smile. “Let them be thy guide, Fëanáro. Just as Telperion and Laurelin blend their lights together in harmony, let thou and Ñolofinwë be true brothers, mingling your spirits in love as is proper among kin. Let all of Eldamar behold the sons of Finwë standing together during these troubled times.”

For several tense minutes Fëanáro did not respond, but slowly he reached out and took Ñolofinwë’s hand, though he spoke not. Sighs of relief could be heard among the listeners and it was obvious that many had been holding their breaths wondering what Fëanáro would do. Then Ñolofinwë spoke.

“Half-brother in blood, full brother in heart will I be. Thou shalt lead and I will follow. Let no new grief divide us.”

Fëanáro stared intently at his half-brother for a moment before nodding. “I hear thee,” he said. “So be it.”

And at that moment the light flickered and all looked about in amazement. “Wh-what has happened?” one of the Elves cried out in dismay, but before anyone could answer, the light flickered again, more violently than before, and then abruptly ceased to exist, plunging all into utter darkness, save for the light from Varda’s crown of stars.

And then someone screamed.

****

Vëasselindë: Song of New Life.

Nai calambar nauvalyë ter coivierlya: ‘Mayest thou be light-fated throughout thy life’. This is modeled on the attested phrase, Nai calambar onnalda ter coiverya ‘May your (pl.) child be light-fated throughout his/her life’. [See Vinyar Tengwar 49:41]

Note: Manwë’s speech is loosely based on his words recorded in Book of Lost Tales I, ‘The Theft of Melko and the Darkening of Valinor’.