Soft strains of harp music escaped from the Hall of Fire as the door opened and closed with the arrival of each new soul. Inanneth purposely did not look in as she passed. While it was probable that whichever of her kinsmen were in Rivendell at the moment would be amongst the crowd, she knew Anglachelm was not part of the gathering. Miluiwen had already inquired and apparently the Noldo lord had not been seen since the night of his arrival. None had seen him leave the valley, however none seemed to know of his whereabouts either. And to be honest, this suited Inanneth just fine. If he wanted to contact her, he would find her. In the meantime, she couldn’t be distracted worrying about it, she had too much on her mind at the moment and knowing he was safe was enough. And besides, centuries of living in Imladris and being dragged to the Hall of Fire even at her father’s knee had taught Inanneth that, while the number of Eldar willing to spin tales and ballads for the entertainment of others was great, rarely was there a tale worth listening to, and too often they were told more for the self-aggrandizement of the performer than the enjoyment of the audience. Inanneth had little patience for that at the best of times, and none now.
She took a deep breath of the fragrant air as she escaped from the walls of the Last Homely House and paused to look up to the black velvet sky that hung above her. The walk across Imladris in the fresh air would help her clear her mind and prepare her for the upcoming challenge, for no matter how the conversation ended the other night, the aeons of history between her and her parents would not change in the blink of an eye. Her father had seemed...softer...but still the same, the ages of wisdom that Inanneth had pointedly ignored as a child still shone clearly in his eyes, but there was no denying that Ina herself had changed since she had last seen her family. When Inanneth was young, she looked toward the boundaries of the valley with the eyes of a child and the heart full of the naive optimism that comes with youth. Once she believed that all travels were adventures, and all new souls potential friends. Once she believed so strongly in the equality of all races in all things she was ready to forsake her home and family for it. But once was a long, long ago and those illusions had been irrevocably shattered, leading her rather broken countenance to the doorstep of Bar-en-Vanimar. Perhaps it was only now as Inanneth once again traversed the paths of golden stone that crossed Imladris from the Last Homely House to where her parents chambers were for the first time since she had left the valley in her youth, the delicate hand of her firstborn son clasped protectively in her own, that she realized what it truly meant to come to maturity.
She looked down at the boy as he skipped alongside her, the light of Elbereth reflecting off his smooth dark hair. For this first meeting he was elegantly dressed in a silken Lorien tunic and leggings that Inanneth held no doubt would be spoiled in some way by then end of the evening. The child could barely contain his excitement at the thought of the meeting and had questioned her incessantly all day as to what these relatives of his were like, almost as if he found it inconceivable that his family could possibly extend beyond his mother and the Lady Miluiwen. His chattering had nearly driven her to distraction until Miluiwen had stepped in, stopping his mouth briefly with her delicious honey cakes, the drippings of which his sticky fingers had immediately wiped on his tunic, dirtying yet another change of garments. The light of Valinor give her patience if Inanneth would ever need to prepare him for a meeting with his father! But in truth each foible he possessed simply endeared the boy more to Inanneth’s heart, and her love for him was both fierce and protective as only a mother’s love could be. Perhaps it was the recognition of these maternal feelings that was causing the shift of consciousness that was happening within her. But how it would affect her relationship with her own family was yet to be seen.
*******
Closing her eyes she could let the sounds of the waterfall wash over her cleansing her mind of any worries or cares. She came here every night now to lay in the light of Elbereth and was beginning to understand once again how the Vale of Imladris might be a seen as a place of serenity to those weary and forlorn. The child sat at her side, picking blades of grass then tossing one by one towards the river at their feet. That none hit their target he didn’t seem to mind, it was all part of their nightly ritual now, the two of them, mother and son and each new what would happen next.
As if right on cue, the boy stopped what he was doing and lay down next to Inanneth, his head of hair black and shiny as the wing of a raven resting on her shoulder, her arm around him protectively stroking his hair. He was a restless soul and he fidgeted for a moment or two before finally settling into a comfortable position. He had done so remarkably well since they had left Lorien and she was more proud of him than any mother could be. With all the child had faced already it was no wonder he was growing so quickly. A quiet smile crossed her lips knowing the questions would start soon. Inanneth faced them every night, the same ones over and over and though she would answer them each in all honesty, she knew they would come again and again until one day he received the answer he wanted. The child was nothing if not persistent, the same as his father, only in Anglachelm she usually called it stubborn. But though he might ask a thousand times, she could not give her child the answers about his father or their future plans. She could not tell that which she did not know. And as the days wheeled by through the timeless vale, she yet had no news.
“Mother?”
“Yes, my son?”
Inanneth smiled at the sound of his voice, a twinkle in her eye as she prepared for the nightly interrogation. But this time...this time she was wrong.
“Mother, will you sing the song again, please?”
Her breath caught in her chest as she realized what the he meant.
“Aye, my son...I will sing for you...”
The child nestled further down into her, his arms now tucked under his chin and eyes finally closed peacefully. Inanneth struggled to keep the lump that was rising in her throat from aching though she did not, and would not, fight back the tears as they flowed freely down her cheeks to shine in the light of Elbereth above. With the emotion of all her thousands of years she began to sing the words of the poem that had been a gift to her and Anglachelm from Lord Failandos all those years ago.
“Caitat caselya lissea Lóme lanta; metyalenna túliel Lorat, ar n' óluva lyen you túler yá Sí yálante et hrestallo hair' arta Manan nainal? Man antolyasse nier sin? Cenuval rat' autuvar ilye caurelyar Ranconyassen er loril varna...”
*******
They travelled silently, or as silently as they could, the crunching of the snow under the horses’ hooves unable to be hidden. She had only been in Imladris for a few days when she had been asked to join this party, a routine scouting of the areas to the north of the vale, and as Lord Elrond and his household had done so much for her family over the years, there was no way Inanneth would refuse. Besides, as pleased as she was to be reconciled with her family, a few days stay was all it took for her to start feeling stifled again in her parent’s austere home. Tempers were rising steadily as they continued to pressure her with questions about the Astarrion’s father. Anglachelm may have been able to deftly parry such questions regarding the relationship between him and Inanneth in the Hall of Fire, but Ina’s stern father wasn’t so easily put off. When this opportunity came for a few days of worthy escape, Ina had sighed with great relief.
Inside her thick robes Inanneth shivered as her breath escaped in white clouds, lingering in the air only briefly before being swept aside by the fierce pine scented wind as it roared down from the Misty Mountains. To be honest, she was actually finding this journey refreshing. Astarrion would be safe with her parents, and Ina needed time the time and space to think clearly. This was the first time in years she had traveled in a company that knew little of her, neither her past nor even her current situation, and until now, Inanneth hadn’t realized how much these things had weighed on her mind.
Who was she and what had her life become? What was she to Anglachelm? What was she to Bar-en-Vanimar? And was any of this what she truly wanted? Long had these questions been in her thoughts, and the stirrings of which, having begun years ago, were now threatening to boil over.
The small company had passed through Caldwell Pool now and was headed north. The journey had been quite relaxed so far and the party she traveled with quite convivial; these patrols being sent frequently ensured there was rarely little more than the occasional snow beast to deal with. And so it was that as they traveled on, Inanneth delved deeper and deeper into her consciousness, her awareness narrowing to little more than of the soft leather reins in her hands and the rocking rhythmic gait of her mare, her mind occupied looking for answers that may or may not exist.
And as she dwelt on solutions to the impossible, she missed the first cry for help. She did not, however miss the second, and instantly her sword was in her hand. Never had she heard of goblins so far south but something had made the creatures of darkness bold and they had crept out of their passes and into the forest now. She felt her blow meet flesh as she struck one foe then another, but scarcely had one fallen when it was replaced. Barely raising her shield in time, she felt more than saw the thud of an arrow as it struck.
A wall of enemies had appeared to the front of the party, while more swept down into the pass behind them. Ambush! And while they weren’t yet surrounded, it was close. Giving up all thoughts of an offensive now, Inanneth sheathed her sword and unslung her lute. The icy winds whipped at her long dark hair as soon songs of healing and light began to fill the air, soothing to the bodies of her companions and destructive to the creatures of blackness at the same time. Yet the sounds of her lute were nearly drowned now in the more cacophonous clash of steel on steel while around her the battle raged fiercely.
Drawing on inner reserves of power, she focused more deeply on the music, blocking out both the cackles of the goblins as they attacked and the ear piercing screech as they died. On its own, each goblin on his own had not the strength to be any sort of match for one of their party, however through sheer numbers they were beginning to turn the tide. Ina’s playing became more frantic as she saw the first of her company fall.
Her companions had surrounded her, strategically trying to protect their healer from the incoming onslaught, but the circle had broken and now nothing more than a retreat would save them. The stench of the goblins was nearly overwhelming as they swarmed the party. She felt their hands on her ankles, grabbing at her legs as they tried to pull her from her horse. She kicked them away furiously until, hearing the call from their party leader, Inanneth released her lute for a moment and wrenched the reins hard to turn before spurring the horse into an escape through the horde. Several still blocked her path and though she tried to trample through them, her horse reared beneath her as a goblin blade struck it deeply in its underbelly.
The cry her mare gave made her heart wrench, but steadfastly loyal as well as fighting for its own life, the beast struggled on bravely, but as the blows continued Inanneth was finally dismounted from the dying beast. With her horse gone and the rest of the party having fled, it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened and while her cloth robes were thick, they were no match for the razor sharp spear that struck her side, embedding itself deeply between her ribs.
Blinded by the pain, Inanneth collapsed to her knees in the snow, her hand searching her pockets for what she knew to be her last hope, but she wasn’t quick enough and no sooner had she put the acorn whistle to her lips, rough hands wretched it away from her, tossing it to lie unused in the deep snows before yanking the goblin weapon roughly from her side.
Her lifeblood now spilling in unchecked flow around her she was only dimly aware of the scarred black hands that roamed her body, ragged nails scratching her soft skin as they searched for any trinkets of value they could return with to their caves. But she had no strength left to fight them, and Inanneth used what was left of her skill to feign the death she knew was not far off, hoping only to have a few moments peace before her spirit departed to the Halls of Mandos. Having greedily stripped her of anything they saw of worth, they soon left their prey for dead, and as she lie there with the cold snows of the Misty Mountains as her only pillow, she realized she had always known it would end like this, somehow and somewhere.
The truth was she wasn’t worthy of the white ships that sailed into the West, nor of ever seeing the lights of Valinor as they sparkled like jewels on the shore of the great sea. Perhaps she had never really been worthy of Vanimar or Anglachelm either, her spirit having been tainted by her relationships with other races for too long in her youth, but that had never stopped her from trying to make herself more deserving of their attentions.
Her hands were now tinged with blue as they weakly struggled through the remnants of her pack. The goblins had taken everything that would be of value to them, but by the grace of Elbereth they had left what was most valuable to her and a fragile smile crossed her face as her fingers at last found what she had been seeking. The flowers were dried now, many long years it had been since he had given them to her, but their faded petals were still soft on her skin as she brushed them against her cheek. Perhaps it was more memory than scent but she could smell the fragrance as strongly as it was all those years ago in Falathorn when Anglachelm had first tried to woo her in those happier days. And while Inanneth had not wept neither for the pain of the wound nor for the fate had befallen her, as her mind swept back over those blissfully naive days when they first courted, she could no longer contain the tears, one after another now spilling over her cheeks and freezing on the crimson snow that cushioned her wrecked body.
The road each of them had travelled since those innocent times had been long and only now at the journey’s end could she see quite clearly that they had never understood each other since then. Perhaps they had never understood each other at all, but she had loved him fiercely, even as she knew he had never in his heart forgiven her past nor would she ever be able to live up to his expectations. But for right or wrong, out of this initial passion Astarrion had been born and Anglachelm had the son he always wanted. The thought of her son growing into a wise warrior under the guidance of his Noldo father comforted her. Though his father’s wisdom Astarrion would grow into the Eldar she herself could never have become.
Her breathing was shallow now; ragged breaths came infrequently as she felt the fire that was her life ebbing from her. Inanneth pressed the lilies to her lips, kissing them once. Above her, through the velvet of the night sky, Elbereth and her choir shone down in a dazzling display made more sharply clear by the frost in the air. And as it was in life so it should be always that it was the light of Elbereth would ever guide her path as Inanneth’s eyes closed for the last time in Middle Earth.
to be continued...
