Not So Happy Returns

by Soledad

Author’s Notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Foreword.

I follow the Silmarillion version of Orodreth’s parentage, in which he is the second son of Finarfin/Arafinwë. In some earlier versions he indeed had sons named Halmir and Orodhin, but they got later omitted.

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December 19 – Failure

He was not the only one to fear leaving the safety of Lórien, but he doubted that the others would feel near the same dread he did. Few others could claim to be such a complete failure as he head been. His folly had brought dire consequences, not only for himself and his family but also for all the Elves entrusted to him.

And all that because he had been easily influenced – would he have joined the rebellion in the first place otherwise?

But it was not his to determine when to leave and so, despite his fears, he found himself at the Gates of Return at the appointed time. No delaying attempts did him any good. He was simply guided through the Gates by one of the Maia attendants and after a moment of disorientation, he was standing on the other side, facing his parents... and Findaráto.

Seeing his brother caused him to burst out in tears of shame and regret.

“I am sorry,” he sobbed. “I lost your kingdom and got your people slaughtered, just because I listened to a Mortal. I all but destroyed Nargothrond!”

Findaráto shook his head in tolerant understanding.

“No, hanno,” he said, taking his younger brother into a comforting hug. “It was Glaurung who destroyed Nargothrond and Morgoth’s evil that got our people slaughtered… including you.”

“And my son,” Artanáro added bitterly. “Halmir warned me time and again not to listen to the son of Húrin but I was blind and deaf in my determination to grow into your boots. But I was still too small to wear them in the end, was I not?”

“We all make mistakes, Ada,” somebody said, and he looked at the beautiful elleth accompanying his parents in confusion for a moment. At first he thought it would be his wife, but then he recognized his daughter, Finduilas.

“I, too, was blinded by Túrin and the force of his personality,” the princess continued. “And I, too, paid the price. But that is all in the past now. You must leave the past behind and look forward to the future – now that we have one again.”

“Come home to Tirion with us, yonya,” said Arafinwë, speaking for the first time. “Adjusting to Life again is not an easy task, but we have enough practice in aiding Reborn by now.”

“Am I the last?” asked Artanáro uncertainly. “Have all my brothers returned?”

Findaráto nodded. “Only Artanis dwells in Middle-earth still,” he explained. “We hope that one day she, too, will be able to come home.”

“What about my wife and my sons?” insisted Artanáro.

“Halmir and Orodhin have been released a long time ago,” said Findaráto. “So has your wife who had faded from grief when she learned about your daughter’s fate. They all live in Tirion with us and wait for you to join them.”

“But they have not come to welcome me,” said Artanáro dejectedly.

“They did not want to overwhelm you with such a large reception,” explained Findaráto. “They chose to wait for you at home.”

“I cannot face them, not yet,” whispered Artanáro. “My folly bereft them of their future. I have failed as a husband… as a father… and as a King.”

“Yea, you have,” returned Findaráto bluntly. “So have I, in a manner of speaking. But what is done is done and wallowing in guilt and self-pity will help no-one. You can do so if you want to, of course – it is your prerogative. Or you can learn from your mistakes and be grateful that you are given a second chance. It is up to you.”

“Now, now, Findaráto, do try to have a little more understanding for your brother,” chided him Eärwen. “You have been out of the Halls for yéni; you have had ample time to earn how to deal with the past. Allow him to get there at his own pace. There is no need to hurry.”

“Let us return home and give Artanáro time to get used to Life again,” suggested Arafinwë. “We can discuss the past – and the future – once he has found his bearings again.”

The others agreed and, at a sign from Arafinwë, horses were brought for them. Artanáro obediently mounted the one offered to him and followed his family homewards. But even as he rode flanked by his parents on one side and his brother and daughter on the other one, he wondered if he would ever be forgiven for being such a failure.

If he would ever be able to forgive himself.

~Fin~