Not So Happy Returns

by Soledad

Disclaimer: see in the Foreword.

Írith is an earlier form of Íresse, aka Aredhel.

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December 08 – Refusal

He tumbled down the rock-side of Caragdûr – it was a long fall, but he barely felt any pain when he finally hit the bottom. He must have died immediately.

His hröa broke up like a ripe chestnut, setting his spirit free, and he felt… relief, actually. Living with the knowledge that he had killed his wife instead of his misbegotten son would have been unbearable in the long run. He would have faded sooner or later anyway. ‘Twas better to be done with the dying part quickly – it was less painful this way.

That, of course, left the question what should he do with himself now.

“You have two choices,” said a dark, melodious voice, and as he turned around, he saw a being as large as the hills, shrouded in the dark glory of one of the Powers. “You can come to my Halls, undergo Judgement, heal and be reborn into a new body in due time. Or you can haunt these shores as a houseless spirit ‘til the end of Arda.”

He shook his head… well, mentally, anyway.

“I shall not go with you,” he replied. “My place is here, among my own people. And if I remain here, at least Írith can be free when she returns to Life.”

“What if she does not want to be free?” asked the Lord Mandostô. What if her death does not break the enchantment your put on her and she wants to be with you? She did beg Turucáno to spare your life, after all.”

He shook his head again. “Unlikely. But she is better off without me anyway. She will be reborn, eventually, and be reunited with her family, and I… I will be with mine. The one I should never have left.”

“There is no place for dead Elves in Endórë,” said the Lord Mandostô.

He laughed at that.

“It appears that not even the Powers know everything that happens on these shores, do they?” he said. “Worry not, Lord, for I do have a place in Middle-earth: the one where all our dead go. You never cared much for us, Faithful – why should you start now? Go and dote on your cherished Eldar; we of the Faithful take care of our own.”

The Vala seemed to hesitate for a moment – and then he was gone. And he who had once been known as Kundû Endero of the Tatyai, Morwê’s heir in the hidden city of Ramandur, and later called Eöl the Dark Elf by his estranged kindred, gave the mental equivalent of a relieved sigh and turned around, tried to think of a way to get home in his current, disembodied form.

~Fin~