The moon was full and hung low in the sky the night Anglachelm left Falathorn. Ina watched it for long moments from her front garden, listening to the gentle sound of the river as it tumbled past her house. Somewhere, not yet too far, he was traveling under that same moon. The thought of that should bring her comfort, and maybe it would one day, but now. Not yet. Her grief was still to raw.
Unconsciously her hand went to her belly. There was no stirring from the child that lay there yet, nor would there be for a while, yet as soon as Anglachelm had spoken the words, she knew them to be true.
“Inanneth,” he had said as he lay in her chambers, the morning light falling from the high windows across his noble features. The silence was heavy with the weight of his ominous departure and Ina could only nod. “I will not be looking back much....because I know my son will be in good hands...”
He touched her womb then, and even now in her mind she could feel the warmth of his hand and how the new life in her body responded to it. There was no doubt she was carrying his child. She was unsure what has passed in the following days. Her heart was in turmoil as his departure approached even as she found herself strangely calm, drawing strength from this bond with him that grew inside her.
Never once in those days did she wonder how she would explain her situation to the kin once he left. Never once did she care if they berated her for unmarried state. Nor did she question whether Anglachelm would acknowledge her as his own before he left. None of this mattered. For weeks after the night of the elven ball she had doubted his feelings for her but no longer. Never again. Her trust in him was absolute.
And so it had passed that earlier that day, Anglachelm had named Galendil tur of Vanimar ere he departed, and as his first request to the new tur, Anglchelm had asked Galendil to help watch over and protect his son. She had smiled even as she sensed the confusion in the gathered crowd, but it was soon made clear as he offered his hand to Inanneth. Grasping it firmly she stood next to him, never prouder than to be publicly claimed as his beloved and announced as the mother of his expected child. Through her grief there was yet joy, and from this end there would yet be a new beginning.
The chill of the Falathorn night had turned bitter and in her mind she could almost hear his voice berating her gently for being outside in her bare feet. Soon she would have to go inside, past the bouquets of lilies he had given her, past the paintings her had created for her, up the stairs to her chamber where this new life had begun...for both her and their child. But not yet. For now she would stay just a few minutes longer, and watch the moon, and think of him....and pray to Elbereth that he was somewhere safe, watching the moon...and maybe thinking also of her.
*******
She raised the back her her hand to her brow to wipe the sweat from it, only to leave a smudge of flour in its place. Before her lay dozens of piles for freshly baked waybread, the fragrant steam still rising from them as they cooled. Ina's back ached from the hours she had spent cooking but in some ways she was grateful that the overwhelming amount of work she had to do for the kin these days kept her mind from how much she missed Anglachelm. And since the kin chests had been robbed, there was A LOT of work to do. All the potions, dyes, food, scrolls....anything they had left of any value, and even a lot of no value, had been stolen from the kin chests the day after Angla had departed. It was a cowardly and deceitful thing to do, and created a lot of work for Ina and the rest of the cauns, but Vanimar would get through it. They had survived worse in the past and they wouldn't allow this to slow them up for long.
Finally, her cooking finished for the day, she seated herself comfortably next to the fire and unfolded the note she had received from Alcaron. In the light of the flames her fingers traced each word while her lips silently formed the words of the ancient language, his language, and that of the Noldor but not one that came so naturally to her. The images flit before her eyes until, on finishing the poem, a long soft sigh escaped her lips. Such a beautiful and thoughtful gift. Nodding to herself she decided she would save it and show it to Anglachelm on his return, but as she tucked the paper into the pocket of her robe, she felt the shadow creep across her heart again. Would he return? She couldn't allow herself to think otherwise, but she was finding it difficult to keep her spirits up.
The blackness of her grief had not lessened since his departure as she had hoped, and yet she knew that while she carried his child she could not allow herself to succumb to it. It wasn't until much later after she had put her cloak on and was returning home under a starlit sky that she finally realized where the root of the problem lay. It was so simple really. But now that she was aware she could take steps to fix it. She lay her hand across her belly, rubbing it gently to comfort the child within.
"Soon, little one, soon" she whispered. "All will be well soon."
Now the only decision was how to break it to the kin...
*******
Around the main hall of her home, various goods were spread across the floor and every conceivable level surface. Not particularly vain as elvish women go, Ina was still taking particular care to ensure she had the right garment available for her stay in Lorien, for she would get to Lorien eventually, whether they liked it or not.
A few weeks had passed now since she had informed Galendil and the kinship of her desire to leave Falathorn. Lord Veryacano was more than willing to help with an escort for her, however more than one had counseled her against making the full journey to the Golden Wood.
“Stop at Imladris,” they advised. “Surely Lord Elrond will shelter you.”
But she knew in her heart it wouldn’t be enough. Her nerves were growing short as the time dragged on and still there was no date set for their departure. What she needed now more than anything was to be as far away from painful memories as possible. She needed joy in her heart to keep well the babe in her womb. And such joy was not to be found in Falathorn with the shadow of her lost Anglachelm hovering forever at her elbow. But neither would it be found in the secret valley of Rivendell where the uncomfortable days of her youth were spent. No. There was not a place in all the world where she had felt such joy as in Lorien save the arms of her beloved. And she was determined that no matter what hardship she needed to face to get there, this child of Anglachelm’s would be born on a starry night under a view of the velvet sky obstructed only by the shimmering leaves of the towering mallorns.
She pushed a pile of gowns out of the way and sat heavily on the long chair before the fire for a moment of rest. There was nothing physically wrong with her, but she did tire easily. Whether from the size of her growing womb or the sadness in her heart, she did not know but looking around the room, she felt the despair creep across her soul again. She would trade all the finery around her, indeed everything she owned to have him here again but she knew that was impossible. And for his sake and the sake of his child she would carry on. Truly she understood that deep down blessed. Even without him here she was not without friends and those who cared about her. She only needed to remind herself of that over and over and over again...
At this thought her eyes rested on her blue ceremonial gown and she smiled. Miluiwen. She would speak with Miluiwen. If anyone would understand the help Inanneth needed to get through this dark time it was she. Ignoring the remaining clutter, she rose heavily pushing her widening frame up from the chair. A few minutes later she was dressed for riding and on her way to Miluiwen’s house.
*******
Sometimes, when the wind was just right from the east, the uppermost branches of the mallorns would part and Inanneth could see the stars from where she lay in her bed in the pavilion. And such a night was tonight. It had been weeks now since she had climbed a flet, her body too heavy with child to move easily up the ladders or ramps that led to the living spaces above, but the area she was now settled into was more than comfortable and the days had fallen into a simple pattern for Ina as she waited for the birth of her child.
The journey to Lorien seemed all but a distant dream now. It had been many months since that night back in Falathorn that she had realized that if she didn’t find fresh surroundings soon, her grief would overcome her. But with a resilience she hadn’t realized she possessed, Ina had packed her belongings, and with the help of a few close and trusted friends, set out on her journey, leaving Falathorn and Bar-en-Vanimar behind.
It wasn’t that she wanted to leave the way she did. The house of Vanimar was her family, however she had not been prepared for the reluctance she had been met with when she expressed her wish that Anglachelm’s child be born under the stars of the Golden Wood. Of course it was safer to stop at Imladris as they had suggested, but how could they have known that to stay at Rivendell for Inanneth would only be replacing one sort of grief with another?
Finally, when preparations seemed to be dragging on indefinitely, rather than quarreling, Ina had simply taken matters in her own hands and slipped away without so much as a word of explanation. Was it wrong? Probably. But at this time, for her own preservation, Inanneth needed to be selfish, and since her arrival in Caras Galadhon, she had never regretted it. Besides, knowing the reach of influence Bar-en-Vanimar had, it wouldn’t be long until they got word of her location anyhow. Ina smiled dreamily as her eyes now traced lines between the silver stars that hung above her playfully peeking out behind the golden leaves of the graceful mallorns. They also had been her faithful companions throughout the journey to Lorien, save for those treacherous days traversing Moria, and she found their presence reassuring, like silent guardians watching over her slumber each night since they had re-emerged from the darkness near the shores of the Mirrormere.
Beneath the silken sheets Inanneth slowly rolled onto her side, trying to make her heavy form more comfortable. Perhaps Elbereth would guide her dreams again as they had before and she would see him. It was her hope every night, as she longed for some small reassurance that he was still safe. But soon she would realize that this night it was not meant to be. Tonight she would need Elbereth’s help in another matter. For just as she started to drift off to sleep, her eyes flew open in both pain and surprise.
Her labour had begun.
*******
The night in Lorien was still but for the pavilion where Inanneth lay. Around her bustled the ladies of Caras Galadhon, silently slipping in and out of the silken doorway as they went about their preparations, but as time passed measured only in the wheeling of the stars above, concern was growing. There seemed no end to the labours, no end to the pains.
Inanneth was weakening and there was no babe yet born. How long her strength would continue to hold out, no one knew. From the look on the faces of her attendants Ina could tell something was wrong. Though they tried to hide it from her, in the silent pauses between her pains, she was aware of bowed heads around her sharing whispers of concern even. She tried desperately to block them out and focus only on the words of encouragement being softly spoken to her and the soothing sounds of the fountain outside.
The fountain.
It seemed millennia ago that she had danced with him in that fountain so free of cares. Perhaps it was millennia ago. She couldn’t tell. Time and Arda no longer existed for her beyond this moment. It had all gone on for too long now and Inanneth felt that had Miluiwen not been holding her hand so tightly, surely she would have been dragged away on one of the waves of pain that wracked her body. But her friend was there, her grip desperately trying to anchor Ina to this consciousness. Through parched lips, Ina tried to speak, her words coming as no more than the softest of whisper.
“Milui...please....”
Her hand clenched Miluiwen’s with what little strength she possessed. Inanneth’s eyes, once the grey of a summer thunderstorm were now misted with tears. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Even in times of war the birth of an elf should be a joyous occasion. But there was no joy to be found here now. Inanneth knew her light was fading and there was little she could do but follow her fate even if it led her to the Halls of Mandos.
“Save the child, Miluiwen....please.....save his child....”
As a final spasm of pain swept through her body, Inanneth’s strength found its end. There was no more she could give. But as she slipped from consciousness, the stillness of the night was broken by a feeble cry. It was thin and weak, but enough to set the attendants to motion in their rush to care for the new babe.
And then again as the stars of Lorien faded into the rose glow of the dawn it was followed by a second more reassuring cry, which was the last noise Inanneth heard before the blackness took her.
*******
The air was still down here. Above her the tops of the mallorns swayed gently giving proof that somewhere at that height the breeze still stirred, but here on the floor of the Golden Wood, little air moved in the heat that was summer. Outwardly, Inanneth was a picture of serenity as she sat by in the Lady Galadriel’s garden, the dappled sunshine sliding off her dark hair while her fingers nimbly embroidered an intricate pattern along the edge of a silken tunic. But those who knew her would read otherwise in her eyes, they were sparkling with disquiet and impatience. But then after years spent fighting against the growing darkness, it was hardly surprising Inanneth would find it difficult to rest long in one place for long. And now she realized she had been here too long, and years had passed since she had held a sword in her hand. At first there was nothing she could do.
The birth had taken too much out of her and she had been far closer to passing into the Halls of Mandos to do anything afterwards but try to heal and survive. There were times she feared the effects of trial she had been through would never pass, but slowly she had begun to regain her strength and colour again. She was still far weaker than before, but at least she was alive and for that she was grateful enough.
But that was years ago. And now? What was her excuse to stay now?
Testily she put aside her sewing and glared at the water before her as if annoyed that it didn’t provide her with the answers she sought. This wasn’t the first time she had asked herself this question. Was there really no answer or was she just avoiding the truth? To be fair to her, Caras Galadhon and its beauty did posses a lure of its own, and once ensnared in the peace of the place, it was hard to draw oneself away, especially, as with Ina, if you were in need of healing.
But the dreams were becoming more insistent now, and like it or not, she knew that whatever the reason she had stayed, it was time to go. She could not stay here and be idle when those of her house might need her. And more importantly, she would never forgive herself, nor would Anglachelm forgive her, if their son did not receive the training he needed to follow in his father’s footsteps. Under no circumstanced would she allow him to be known as a clown of a warrior nor a bozo of a guardian. For that he must have a mentor of the highest quality to learn from, and the few she knew she could trust were, of course, not to be found lounging in the peace of Lothlorien as she was. No respectable guardian would be.
Finally decided on a course of action, Inanneth felt the weight on her heart lift. The thought of Falathorn, previously a place that was haunted with ghosts of memory to her, now seemed to bring a gentle peace. It was right that the boy should be raised among those of his father’s kin. And besides it would be good to be home again. Gathering up her things, she traced her steps back towards the pavilion and went in search of Miluiwen. There was much to do before they could leave and once having made up her mind, Ina was never the type to drag her feet. She wanted to leave, and she wanted to leave now.
*******
From where she stood, she could see the horses packed and ready to go. Miluiwen was there, as was her son and the handful of guards the Galadhrim could spare to accompany the party through the most dangerous part of their journey through Moria. If they could get past those dark halls safely once again, then truly Manwe smiled on them.
The plan was to press on until Imladris then to stop for a few days of respite before moving onwards again toward Falathorn, and strangely it was the thought of this stop that was causing Ina the most discomfort. She wondered if her family still resided in the timeless vale, and then quickly decided that the thought of facing the orc and goblin hordes of Moria would be nothing compared to facing her mother and explaining she the circumstances surrounding the birth of her child.
Ina whispered a quick prayer to Elbereth her parents had moved on but she took little comfort from it. In Ina’s long experiences she had learned that if something bad was going to happen, it usually happened in Rivendell.
Pausing once last time, she breathed in the scents of the Golden Woods. It wasn’t that she had been lonely in her time here. Caras Galadhon was not nearly the isolated place it had been before the growing darkness, and other friends or kinsmen would occasionally pass through bringing news of the outside world. But none brought news of Anglachelm’s fate. And now many of the reasons she chose to flee Falathorn in the first place were the same reasons she wanted to return.
Time had passed, and where once the intimate memories of what was no longer there served only to torture her, now she believed that the familiar caress of her those same memories in her surroundings would soothe her. Besides, she felt strongly that her son...their son...must be raised in Bar-en-Vanimar.
Their son....
There he sat, next to Miluiwen, his eyes betraying the fact he thought this was going to be a fine adventure. He simply was still too young to understand, and though Inanneth wanted in her heart to spare him what he would experience in Moria, she knew that it would only be a disservice to him. No one in this Age,not elf, nor man, nor even dwarf, should be raised without learning to defend himself. And with a long and noble line of Noldor warriors as his ancestors, she knew it would be in his blood as well. Steadfast and loyal to those he loved, a desire to protect those near to him, she had seen so much of his father in him already.
She smiled inwardly, then pushed her long dark hair over her shoulder. There was no more reason to delay. She was ready. And in her heart of hearts, she knew he was too.
*******
The air around them was cold and thick with the scent of blood as she sat with her back to the cold dwarven stone wall. The boy was clutched her chest, his sobs finally softening to a quiet whimper as she stroked his hair soothingly.
By all the power of the Valar she wished he would never have had to see such violence at his tender age, but there was little chance it would be avoided here. The dwarves did all they could simply to keep the line of travel through Moria intact. It would take ages, if it was even possible, to purge the creatures of blackness from every hall. And so it was they were attacked in only the earliest stages of their journey, not long past the First Hall.
A few dozen goblins had brazenly made their camp in the open near the remains of the old bridge in Nud-Melek, and it was in the corridor leading up to it that Inanneth and her group that were ambushed. They had been paused for only a few moments when it happened. Her son was enthralled at the giant crystals lamps that hung from the cavernous ceiling and served to provide the dim light in the caves and they had stopped to examine them. Ina was explaining some of the many further wonders he would eventually see on the journey when the first of the arrows struck the corridor wall behind them.
Instinctively pushing the boy behind her for protection, she and Miluiwen fought side by side with their Galadhrim guards, Milui fighting and Inanneth healing, the music and steps of the deadliest ballad all too familiar. The battle was short but fierce and there were no casualties, but there had been blood, and for a child that had so far never suffered an injury more serious than a scraped knee, to see the blood of such monstrous creatures mixed with that of his mother and aunt was terrifying. Keeping both hands on the child she raised her elbow slightly to wipe the blood from her cheek onto her sleeve.
“Shhhh, my son, we are safe again.”
She spoke quietly, knowing her words were only true as long as they continued to remain hidden to the greater of the host of foes that lurked in the cavern. Crooking a finger under his chin, she lifted his face to meet hers. His luminous eyes shone with tears in the dim light but their colour still astonished Ina every time she saw them.
“Be brave, my child. And think how proud your father will be of you when he sees you traversed these dark corridors already! Why, I bet he was still at his mother’s knee in Gondolin at your age!”
That did it. He smiled a bit and Inanneth sighed with relief. Standing once again she took his hand in hers as they prepared to proceed. But as they others were taking up their packs again, she whispered to Miluiwen, the concern in her voice was gravely real.
“Milui, we need to get to the Twenty-First Hall quickly...I fear that arrow that struck me was poisoned and we have no potions, nor hunter to cure it.”
Her friend only nodded, clearly understanding the situation. No more words needed to pass between them. Silently they took up their gear and prepared to move onwards.
*******
The floor of the Twenty First Hall was hard, but no harder than anywhere else in Moria. She had been through this maze of caverns too many times now, even for the life of an elf, and hated it more each time. She breathed out heavily, the sting of the poison that still ran through her veins making her shiver. Miluiwen had done all she could to help heal her, but she had no way to remove the poison, and unless it there were no other options left, Inanneth had no wish to trust the dwarven healers. But she had been cold for days now and yearned with all her heart for nothing more than to feel the warmth of sun on her face again.
She shifted her aching body, trying to get comfortable on the thin blanket. Miluiwen was watching over the boy for the moment to give Ina time to rest, so she had taken her bedding out of the way of the bustle in the main hall and set up near some supply crates placed off to the side, not too far to be in danger, well no more danger than normal here, but somewhere apart from the others so she could try and work a plan for the remainder of the journey.
It was a quiet enough place and she had chosen it because it would allow her some solitude, which was all the more reason for her to be startled as she looked up from her thoughts to find a hooded elf standing near her, watching her curiously. He was a hunter from his appearance, and a powerful one judging by the bow slung over his back.
“You wear the swan of the house of Vanimar?” he had asked her, the hauberk she was wearing having piqued his curiosity. At the name of her home her eyes widened and she immediately struggled to stand, but it was soon apparent to him from her movements something wasn’t right and he quickly motioned to her to make herself comfortable on the blankets again.
He introduced himself as Earinlin, a Caun of the house of Vanimar. By the light of Elbereth, had she been gone that long that those she had no knowledge of were now officers in the house? But as the conversation lengthened, it was revealed to her that much had changed since her departure. Galendil, whom Anglachelm had entrusted to lead the house on his departure, had vanished suddenly and in his place Lord Veryacano had now become Tur.
The thought comforted Inanneth immensely. She had always admired Veryacano and knew he was greatly respected by Anglachelm for being a true Noldo lord. Whatever had happened, and Earinlin seemed not to have much more knowledge of the situation, it was a good outcome. So engrossed was she in news of home, Inanneth did not notice how much of her illness was being revealed until Earinlin stopped her politely.
“Please, my lady, allow me...”
It was true she barely knew him but the spasms of pain showed no sign of abating and if she wanted to reach the end of her journey, this was a risk she was willing to take. Besides, there was something about him that Ina trusted and it appeared that Lord Veryacano had already begun to prove himself wise if this was his choice for Caun.
She nodded to Earinlin and allowed him to proceed, but she must have underestimated the strength of the poison because the purging hurt more than being struck by the fire of Mordrith himself, and if it were not for the strength of her will Ina felt surely she would have lost consciousness.
Earinlin made a fire afterwards to try and get some warmth back into her blood and continued to speak softly to her telling stories and news of her kin as she rested. She was eager for every morsel he had of it, but eventually her strength began to fail again. The poison may have been purged but its affects would linger and she knew regretfully she would be weak for a long while.
Yet as she watched him through large grey eyes heavy with sleep as he guarded her, she smiled to herself. In its own way her wish had come true. Sitting before her was that ray of sunshine she so desperately needed to keep her going. Earinlin had offered to escort their party on the journey and as a hunter he would be able to lead them swiftly, enabling them to reach Imladris long before Inanneth thought possible.
And owing to the news he brought, there was more reason than ever to desire to reach Rivendell, for not long ago Lord Anglachelm had returned from the east. Though Earinlin had not learned the fate of Anguirelm, Anglechelm himself appeared to be hale and in as fair spirits as one can expect after the trauma of such adventures.
The news was inconceivable and she was still struggling to take it all in. His journey had seemed so impossible even Ina’s stalwart optimism had faltered and she had not realized until now how tightly she had been clutching the strings of fading hope. It wasn’t until she heard the words of Anglchelm’s return spoken by this honourable Caun that Inanneth finally admitted to herself that the next place she had truly expected to meet with Anglachelm again was far to the west in the Halls of Mandos.
But despite all, it appeared that even through the seemingly infinite thickness of rock that hung above, the light of Elbereth still blessed her, and maybe her son would one day indeed be able to meet his father.
*******
Every movement of the long grass in the wind, each flutter of a bird’s wing seemed a small miracle to Inanneth now and it was impossible to tell which had affected her more, the poison of the orcish arrow or the darkness of the dwarven mines. The fresh air that swept through Eregion did more to aid Inanneth’s healing than any potion ever could and finally some colour began to return to her pallid complexion.
As much at the Galadhrim guard had done their best to ease the first part of the journey, there was no doubting that Earinlin’s tracking skills had greatly increased the speed at which the party travelled even with the regular breaks for Inanneth to rest and the detours needed to return the attention of her increasingly mischievous son to the task at hand. Miluiwen’s efforts had been tireless, and though she knew that her friend doted on the boy, it was clear by the end of the journey that everyone’s patience was wearing thin. It was entirely probably that had he been caught running off, hiding or eating dirt one more time, even the gentle lady Miluiwen would have put the child over her knee.
Regrettably any delusions one had about the cherub-like grace an elven child would possess would be sorely shattered by meeting this boy. Truly the mix of Inanneth’s curiousity and natural ability to attract trouble with Anglachelm’s temper and stubbornness was a potent recipe designed to strain the nerves of even the most decorous elf.
The way between the gate to Moria and across Low Hollin had been surprising clear and what little threat there was had been quickly dispatched by the hunter’s powerful bow. At Echad Eregion Earinlin arranged for horses and soon the miles raced by with even more speed. The roads were clearly well guarded in this part of the world for they saw no sign of any trouble along the path that ran through Glad Ereg and they travelled on unmolested until they came to the northernmost camp of Gwingris where again they rested, listened to the gentle music of Lady Miluiwen and chased the errant boy until fresh horses could be found.
But leaving Gwingris marked the last stage in the epic journey and their next stop now would be the vale of Imladris itself. With each step Inanneth came closer to those things she most feared but knew to be completely unavoidable. Would she find Anglachelm changed? Would he remember here? Acknowledge her or the child? And what of her parents? Did they still reside in Imladris and serve Lord Elrond? If they did, would they accept her return or would she be cast out of the light of her family for bring her son to Rivendell without any sign of a husband?.
Looking over at her son and seeing him totally twisted backward in the saddle and reaching out his grubby fist to try and grab the horses tail, Inanneth sighed deeply. And how quickly would Lord Elrond revoke his welcome when her son tracked mud through his pristine halls or clumsily toppled over one of his elegant vases? For as much as she wanted to believe in happy endings to epic adventures, there was a tangle of knots in her stomach that only time would untie.
The blanket of stars was sparkling over the tops of the pine trees as they swept down the valley slope towards the stables and there were lights on in the large building where Inanneth’s childhood had been spent those many years ago.
“Well,” she thought to herself, “I suppose some answers will be found more directly than others...”
They bade farewell to Earinlin, their guide, and thanked him profusely for his escort. She sincerely hoped their paths would cross again soon but as hunters rarely stayed in one place for long, it was hard to say. Still, he promised to take news of their safe arrival to Lord Veryacano and Bar-en-Vanimar and for all he had done Inanneth would always be grateful to him.
As his silhouette faded into the night Inanneth turned to find Miluiwen, who had herself turned to try and find the boy again.
“Come, my friend, it is very late but let us make our respects to those at the Last Homely House. After what we have journeyed through, tomorrow cannot help but to be brighter.”
*******
To be continued....
