I have just entered my tent and set down my coat and weapons when Ingwil appears in the doorway.

“How are those we freed? And… you? How…” He cuts himself short.

“How are they?” I sigh. “I do not have a clear answer. They were reluctant to speak with me, so I learned very little, and what I saw gives little reason for cheer. Pain and grief weigh on them heavily. Artanar is still there; he may bring more news. I am… better. Not well, I do not believe anyone of us is well after all this, but – better.”

“I am glad of that. Truly. I…” Ingwil averts his eyes for a few moments, then looks at me again, his gaze determined. “I did not think well of you, Arafinwë, before, in Valinórë. I despised you for following Fëanáro, for how you afterwards returned - in shame, as it seemed to me then. And when we set out for this war, too. I took your restraint for fear. Even when I was finally aware of the silent courage that lay at the heart of your actions, I was not wise enough to acknowledge that. Still, late is maybe better than never, so... I ask your forgiveness for every slight I have given you, intended and unintended.” When I look at him without a reply he sighs and lowers his eyes. “That may be too much to ask.”

“No, you misunderstand.” I take a step towards him. “It is just… You are not the only one who should apologize. I thought ill of you as well. You insulted me, and I replied with bitterness. At whiles I sought to hurt you on purpose with my words. Therefore… I forgive you and ask your forgiveness too.”

He nods and hesitantly holds out his hand. “Friends?”

“Yes.” I firmly clasp his slender, narrow palm, seemingly so unfitting for wielding weapons. So alike my own. “I am honoured to be your friend.”

“I am honoured to be yours.” Ingwil smiles faintly, and frowns for a few moments before continuing. “I also envied you.”

I stare at him, eyes wide. What? Have I heard correctly? He, the famous poet, envied me?!

This time, his smile is wider. “That is true. I have always wished for a brother, and you had two elder brothers who loved you.” When I am about to object, he shakes his head. “They did, Arafinwë. Even Fëanáro. I think he, too, loved you in a way, even though love in his heart may have fought with resentment. Yes, I have sisters, and I do not doubt their affection. But that is different. They are so much older than I am; they were already long into their own lives and families when I was born. I grew up as the only child. I had the full attention and love of my parents; I had everything I desired. But I never learned to care for others. I have never made friends easily, for… I do not know how. And - who would befriend me, vain and arrogant as I am?”

I had never spared a thought for the reasons of his bearing.

“That is only one side of you.” I shake my head. “You are also valiant. Generous. Compassionate. And you have changed much during these years - for the better. Besides, you have reasons to think highly of yourself. You do have a brilliant mind. And your verses have always enchanted me.”

A fleeting smile passes Ingwil’s lips. “My verses… They are a reflection of who I so wanted to be and never succeeded becoming.”

I lay my hand on his shoulder. “I think you have succeeded, now.”

He looks at me closely. “In truth?”

“In truth, …brother,” I quietly admit and recall Súlion’s words. He is of your family. You should care for one another. We will. Now, we will.

Minutes later, Artanar returns.

“Did they speak with you more freely than with me?” I ask with little hope, for his gloomy expression conveys scant success. “Did they tell you what they needed?”

“They did speak a bit more. And yet what they said did not differ much. They have everything they need. They can care for their wounded themselves. They wish to remain out of sight. I looked around carefully. They do have lodgings, garment and food, that is true. Remedies too. What they do not have, is hope.”

“Then we must help them find it.” Ingwil regards us with determination. 

I merely nod and keep my doubts to myself. Artanar says nothing either, but his frown is telling. How do you help someone find something that they are not even seeking?

Later on the same day there is a council. We hold it outside, under an open sky, for we are many: together with all commanders, almost three dozen. Nearly all captains have already gathered when my cousin storms in the ring of seats. He drops on a bench beside me and, arms folded on his chest, face like a thundercloud, stares at the ground at his feet. I am about to ask what is amiss, but then the Valar approach. Eönwë speaks.

“The war is over, the dark fortress is overthrown,” he says. “Now the Sea shall rise and cover this part of Valariandë, washing away the stain of Moringotto. The Children of Ilúvatar must therefore journey east and withdraw to the mountains, to a higher ground where it is safe. All should leave this place within three days.”

The captains of Vanyar and Noldor murmur. Ingwil rises abruptly and takes a step forward.

“With all my respect, ladies and lords, that will not be possible.” The whispers turn into astounded silence. Ingwil stands very still, back straight, shoulders squared, eyes glinting. An image of restrained anger. “Most of the Eldar we saved from Angamando are not fit to travel, nor will they be in three days. They need a longer time to recover.”

Now I understand Ingwil’s mood. He, too, has visited their camp; and what I meet with grief, he meets with fury. First time I heard this note of steel in my cousin’s voice when he proposed the attack on Brithombar and Eglarest, after we had listened to Súlion’s story about the Orcs. Since then, I have heard this unyielding tone a several more times, always on the battlefield.

“I second lord Ingwil’s opinion.” I rise and stand beside my kinsman. “Many still need help and healing, no matter how brave and strong they attempt to appear in your eyes.”

“They assured us they needed our help no more.” Irmo frowns. “Why would they deceive us?”

“Deceive you?” The straightforwardness of the Valar and their people, their inability to perceive undercurrents have oft fascinated me. But now this? This?!  How can they, the supposedly wise, all-knowing beings, be so blind?! Fighting the urge to grab and shake one of those who now look at me with unfeigned surprise, I draw a deep breath. “They do not seek to deceive you, lord. They simply deem themselves unworthy of your care. Unworthy of any care.”

“But why?” asks Irmo, still uncomprehending.

While I attempt to find words that would lead me no further along the path of insolence, my cousin has no such qualms.

“I suggest you ask them, lord. Or better yet, walk among them unseen and look. You may find many answers by just looking.”

Behind us, someone gasps. The Valar exchange confused glances.

“Something may have gone unnoticed for us, so we rely on your knowledge about your kinsfolk, lord Ingwil,” Eönwë says at last. “We shall do as you suggest. Would two weeks suffice for their recovery?”

“In two weeks, all should be able to travel, with aid and at a slow pace” Ingwil replies. “As for their recovery – I cannot tell, for such suffering is beyond my experience.”

Manwë’s herald nods. “Two weeks then. We shall see how we can help.” Nods and murmurs of consent from the Valar follow.

“Thank you.”

The edge is gone from Ingwil’s voice, and my anger, too, is fading. How would they understand something even we are unable to grasp fully?