Not So Happy Returns

by Soledad

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

Tindómerel is a genuine Tolkien name and means nightingale; well, daughter of twilight, to be more accurate. It is the name of Elmö’s wife in my stories, but I also gave it to one of Irmo’s Maiar, because I am unable to come up with correct Quenya names on my own. Sorry.

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December 21 – Prodigal Daughter

Her time in Lord Irmo’s gardens had been like a dream: peaceful, quiet, and wholesome. She was loath to leave but she knew that all dreams had to end one day and one had to wake up and face Life again, inevitably. That had been a lesson impressed upon her most emphatically by her caretaker, Tindómerel.

It was Tindómerel who came now to escort her to the Gates of Return, which was encouraging, as she was not entirely certain about her welcome. Tindómerel, though, clearly found her concerns silly.

“Why would they not welcome you?” the Maia asked. “You did nothing wrong. ‘Twas not your fault that you were captured and murdered by Orcs.”

“Had I not broken my promise to Gwindor, things may have ended differently,” she murmured.

“Or they may have ended exactly the same way… or worse,” pointed out the Maia. “There is no use brooding over what ifs, Finduilas. What happened cannot be undone, but you are back to Life now; see that you make the best of your second chance.”

“I wonder who will be waiting for me on the other side of the Gates,” she murmured. “You would not happen to know, would you?”

The Maia gave her a merry look full of mischief. “Oh, but that would be telling! Do you truly expect me to spoil the surprise?”

“I would but I know you would not do so,” she replied. “Well, since we cannot delay the moment forever, let us do this.”

Tindómerel embraced her and kissed her on the brow. “Go on then, daughter of Orodreth and Nimbrethil. You are strong enough to do this. Go and build yourself a new life.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Having crossed the mists of the Gates, Finduilas (formerly of Nargothrond) looked around uncertainly, hoping to find a familiar face. But the only person waiting there was a slender, silver-haired elleth whom she definitely had never seen before. One of the royal clan of the Sindar, perchance from Thingol’s own family, by her noble and delicate features.

Her raiment, though, was almost embarrassingly simple. She wore an unadorned gown of grey silk, girdled with silver, and a grey cloak that was fastened upon her throat with an enamelled silver broche shaped like a mallorn leaf. Her hair was braided with white pearls and wrapped around her head like a coronet.

She spotted Finduilas at once and with a warm smile, she hurried over to greet the Reborn princess.

“Do I know you?” asked Finduilas uncertainly.

“Not yet, though I hope we can change that,” replied the elleth. “I am Celebrían, Artanis’s daughter… your cousin, although I was born in the Second Age. Uncle Finrod got held up by official business or else he would have come in person. He sent me to take you home to Tirion.”

“Why not my parents?” she asked, dreading the answer.

Celebrían gave her a compassionate smile. “I am afraid they have not been released from the Halls yet. Your brothers are already on the ship to get over from Tol Eressëa, but it will take time for them to get here. They will not arrive before tomorrow.”

“What…” at first she hesitated to ask, but she really wanted, no, needed to know, so she gathered all her courage and asked anyway. “What about Gwindor?”

Celebrían smiled. “He has been reborn for some time and currently dwells on Tol Eressëa, in the House of the Hundred Chimneys.”

Finduilas frowned. “An odd name for a house.”

“Nonetheless, it is a wonderful place to rest, to heal, to make merry and listen to songs and tales told,” replied Celebrían. “Many of the Reborn or those who have recently came from Middle-earth choose to dwell there for a while… or permanently.”

“You too?” asked Finduilas, but Celebrían shook her head.

“Nay, I mainly live in Kortirion, in Lady Meril’s house, unless I spend time with friends in Tavrobel.”

“And Gwindor…” Finduilas hesitated again. “Is he well?”

Celebrían nodded. “He has been restored to his former self; and he has forgiven you long ago.”

“Do you think we still could have a future together, after all that happened?” asked Finduilas in an almost child-like manner.

And Celebrían understood that despite being a whole Age younger, she was the more mature of them, due to her experience as the mother of three grown children and the mistress of a large household. Not to mention the time she had spent at Gil-galad’s court, as her mother had insisted.

“I do not know,” she answered honestly. “’Tis something the two of you have to work out between yourselves. Come now. I shall take you to Anatar Finarfin’s house in Tirion. We will deal with the rest one day at a time.”

~Fin~