To Travel With Wings

Ingrel wandered aimlessly through the gardens of Taniquetil. Her brothers had returned to the hunt and she had not been invited. According to Oromë, activities not suitable for the Crown Princess were going to occur and she would be better used at the Palace. Ingrel’s thoughts suddenly turned to the newest addition to her home. She vaguely remembered the daughter of Manwë; she had left when Ingrel had been very young.

Speaking of…Ingrel paused in her walk when she spied the frail beauty perched on a stone bench. Narwarel was the epitome of grace and the cloud of bittersweet emotion that followed her only served to make her more ethereal. Ingrel’s mother had asked her to try and befriend the recently returned Vala. No one would have been more suited; Ingrel had been practicaraisraised by Varda and Manwë.

Stepping loudly to alert the Vala, Ingrel waved a hand when Narwarel looked up at her.

“Greetings, my Lady,” Ingrel said, placing a hand to her heart.

“You are familiar, who are you?” Silnar asked, turning to gaze at her.

“I am Ingrel, daughter of Ingwë.” The Vala was quiet for a moment and then smiled.

“Aye, I remember you, a little babe, very beautiful.”

“Thank you, my Lady.”

Silnar smiled and rose. “Please, do not stand on ceremony with one such as I. You may call me Silnar as do all of my friends.”

Her smile turned sad. “Will you join me, Ingrel; I would much desire some company.”

“Certainly,” Ingrel smiled, sitting next to the fiery daughter of her favorValaVala.

Silence reigned for a few moments. Sighing happily, Ingrel murmured, “I spent so much of my childhood in these gardens. My best friend in the whole world and I would climb those trees…right over there.”

Silnar looked in the direction that Ingrel pointed. There were three very large trees that formed a canopy. “Inside there is the trysting place for Eldar that have reached their majority. Mallelóte and I would hide there and spy on them. We received the surprise of our lives when my brother, Ingil brought his wife Arien.”

For the first time, Silnar laughed and she felt her heart lighten. “This Mallelóte, his name strikes a chord in my heart. I feel as if I should know him!”

Casting a surprised look in Silnar’s direction Ingrel replied, “He should: Mallelóte is Glorfindel.”

Her eyes widened at the souf hef her lover’s name. Understanding dawned and she nodded. “I should have known, his name Glorfindel is one that he carried on Endor. It stands to reason he would have a different one here.”

“Yes, I laughed when he was here once more, before he returned, when he told me his new name. I knew that he would not bear the name of a flower forever.”

“You knew him well, then?” Silnar asked, her voice quivering.

Ingrel watched Silnar carefully, her eyes brimming with sympathy. “You love him very much don’t you?”

Slowly, Silnar nodded, tears trickling down her cheeks. Ingrel thought for a good time about what she wished to say. For quite awhile the notion had been seeping into her mind, her heart. She needed to do this and now she had her chance….maybe.

“I have had strange dreams of late. Dreams of a far off land, beautiful and wild, so very dangerous; it calls to my fea. I see a figure in this dream; he is tall and strong, dark of hair and eyes. My heart calls to him, yearns for him. I wake up wanting and so alone. He calls for me; I know that he is waiting for me.”

Ingrel paused to catch her breath, her emotions running away from her. Silnar waited patiently, not sure where Ingrel’s story was going.

“I think…no, I know that he is waiting for me across the sea. He is my destiny and you have provided me with the reason to go.”

“I have?” Silnar cried, raising her eyebrow. Ingrel nodded, her face breaking into a sunny smile, amplifying the earthy beauty of the Vanya.

“Aye, I will go to Endor to make sure that Glorfindel is strong enough without you to fulfill his duty to Turgon’s line. There I shall seek my destiny and my happiness!”

Warning stirred in Silnar’s heart. “A dear friend of mine once told me that we are not meant to find happiness there, Ingrel. Besides, you are of the Vanya, to be parted from the Valar would cause you to wither and fade.”

Laughing merrily, Ingrel shook her head. “Do not underestimate the strength of the Vanyar! Perhaps if we had journeyed with the Noldor in the beginning, life in Endor would have been different. We were the first to awaken, you know, and the leaders to Aman. My father,” Ingrel added proudly, “Was the first to approach Oromë on Endor and the first to address Manwë!”

“I do not doubt your strength, Ingrel; I remember all too well the Vanyar and their strength. I fought alongside of them, against Morgoth. I understand now, what everyone tried to tell me for so long: we are not meant for that land. I cannot help you in this; I cannot send you to what I believe will be your death.”

Ingrel’s eyes suddenly hardened. “That is fine, but I will go to Endor, with our without your help.”

“Oh, Ingrel, please, sit and calm down. Think about what you are saying!”

“I have, Silnar. I will fade if I do not go, I know I will. This is not some desperate plea for adventure, he needs me and I….I need him. Please, help me in this!”

Silnar could not resist the desperation in Ingrel’s eyes, for she understood all to well the yearning for love. “I will regret this, I know I will.”

Gasping in joy, Ingrel threw her arms around Silnar. “Oh, thank you, my lady, Silnar, thank you!”

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“Absolutely not!”

“Atto, please, hear me out!”

“No! I will not even consider sending my daughter to that cursed laI reI refuse and you will obey me in this, Ingrel.”

It was not often that Ingwë ever raised his voice or lost his temper. The eons old Elda had the finest control of every emotion…except when it came to his family.

“I see,” Ingrel fairly growled. “When it comes to the love that your sons feel, you will move the world to help them, but when it is I, your daughter, I am the dust under your heel.”

“Silence your tongue! You know not of what you speak!” Ingwë’s face had turned an unusual shade of red as he leaned forward from his seat, nose to nose with his daughter. “I have been there, Ingrel,” he hissed, “I know far too well the dangers that land presents, and the heartache you will find there. It is a fate I would not wish on my worst enemy.”

“Ingwë! That is enough!”

The beautiful High Queen of the Eldar stood poised in the doorway of the throne room. She strode in, her pale dress swirling about her body. She was the most beautiful of the Vanyar, her hair the color of wheat, her eyes the blue of the sky when evening fell. In her was all ttrentrength of her people as well as their wisdom. Placing a comforting hand on her daughter’s shoulder, Eldatári set her husband back into his throne.

“Calm yourself, verno*! Now, what is going on, I could hear you all the way into the gardens!”

Sighing in relief that her mother was here, Ingrel launched into her explanation. Quietly her mother listened, waiting until she finished before she spoke.

“I must agree with your father that it is dangerous, Ingrel, and I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into. However,” she added, crushing Ingwë’s pleased look, “I do agree that you have a good reason for going. The final decision is of course, Manwë’s, but I give you leave.”

Ingwë opened his mouth, but was silenced by his wife’s upraised hand. “Always in the past, verno, you have listened to my advice and I have never overstepped your right to rule, but this is an equal partnership and this is ouughtughter. I must overrule you, and I ask that you heed my decision.”

The High King of the Valar looked helplessly at his wife and nodded. Inside he seethed with anger, but he would not push the woman who could break his fea if she so chose.

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“You will be careful, Ingrel,” Silnar said as she stood with the Elda on the ship. Ingrel had already said goodbye to her family and was now thanking the Vala who had become her dearest champion.

“I will, and I will tell Glorfindel everything that has occurred. Think of me, Silnar, as my friend, and watch over us all as Colindomóre.”

Bitterly Silnar remembered the promise she had made to her father. To forget, for a time, her life on Endor, and become the Vala she was supposed to be. At the time, the request had seemed easy, but to forget about Silnar was almost too much to bear. She did not know if she had the strength to be Colindomóre.

“In so short a time, Ingrel, you have become a wonderful friend. I will do my best, I promise.”

Silnar watched the passing of the Swan boat with mixed emotions. She wanted, more than anything, for Ingrel to seek her destiny, however Silnar could not help but worry for the naïve daughter of Ingwë. Ingrel thought too much with her heart, rushing into situations without thinking. The past few days had revealed so much about Ingrel’s character. Silnar was not sure the crown Princess would survive Endor.

According to Varda, the Vanyar were stronger then they appeared. Silnar herself had noticed the differences between the Fair Ones and their cousins; the Vanyar were taller and their bone structure like that of rock, they were hardy and filled out. Varda said the Vanyar were the first to awaken and had to live and learn by mistake, while their Noldor and Teleri cousins learned from them.

Silnar loved the Vanyar because they reminded her so much of the Moriquendi. Both held so much strength in their minds and bodies. It was not that she did not love the Noldor or Teleri less; she jus identified more with the Vanyar and Moriquendi, which was probably what led her to Glorfindel. Although the warrior chose to follow that which was Noldor, he could never suppress his Vanyar heritage.

Silnar wondered what he was doing at this moment, if he was thinking of her. He was never far from her thoughts or her heart.

“Narwarel,” Varda whispered.

Silnar turned to look at the dark beauty of her mother. It was amazing to see the resemblance. Finally, Silnar had realized part of her wish, to be reunited with her family. And yet, part of her was still yearning for the missing piece of her fea.

“Please name me only Silnar. It is what I have answered to for so long…”

Varda brushed a strand of crimson from her daughter’s face. “Of course, Silnar, whatever thou ask.”

Taking her hand, Silnar and her mother began the long trek back to Taniquetil.

“Hast thou walked, yet, in Nienna’s home?”

A soft breeze ruffled Silnar’s hair, bringing the scent of salt water. “No, I have not.”

Varda smiled gently and released Silnar’s hand. “Perhaps thou should.”

She walked on without her daughter, not even turning to see if Silnar would follow. Silnar stood on the sandy pathway for several minutes. Did she even remember the way to Nienna’s home? Yes, she did, it was all returning, west of the West, on the borders of the world.

Turning, Silnar walked back towards the Swanhaven. She would need a ship; it was the fastest way to Nienna’s home.

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“Are you sure that you’ll be safe here?” Minyatúr asked, eyeing the imposing home of stone with suspicion.

Silnar nodded. “Yes, I once spent quite a bit of my childhood in those halls. A person can learn a great deal from Nienna. Thank you for accompanying me, Minyatúr.”

The leader of the Moriquendi nodded. “Should I come back at a certain time?”

Shaking her head, Silnar disembarked. “I will find my way home. Watch over my children, Minyatúr?”

He nodded. “Of course, Silnar, haven’t I always?”

Smiling softly at her friend, Silnar made her way into Nienna’s home. Inside the home was cool, the stones covered with tapestries of Arda’s history. Her steps made no sound as she tread softly on the hand woven rugs. Doors of strong oak stood open, welcoming Silnar into the familiar dining room. Nienna sat at the head of the table, an open book before her. She looked up at Silnar and smiled sadly.

“I was wondering when thou wouldst find thy way here.”

Silnar took a seat next to Nienna. “My mother had to give me a little push, but I would have come eventually.”

“Aye, thy grief would have driven thee into my home. Here, I will help thee, Silnar. According to mine brother that is what thee wishes to be called.”

“Yes, it is the name that I am most comfortable with.”

Nienna stood. “Thou hast been here before. I have had thy rooms prepared for thee. Should thou need me, I am down the hall.” The Vala walked away, her steps leading her to one of her gardens and the shadowy figure that waited within.

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Silnar had been some time at Nienna’s before she realized that she and the Vala were not alone. While it was common for others to visit Nienna, at this time of year her halls were often empty. Festivals were happening in abundance in the cities and most had little time to grieve with Nienna.

Yet someone else was here, Silnar could sense the other presence. Nienna had been silent on the issue and Silnar was not one to push, but her curiosity was soon getting the better of her prudence.

It was that evening that Silnar finally broached the subject. Nienna was silent for some time.

“Dost thou think thee ready to know? I do not think that thou hast healed enough.”

“Then it is someone I know? Someone from my past?”

Nienna was quiet and refused to say another word on the subject. Instead she stood and Silnar followed her. Nienna led her to the highest tower and out onto the parapet. The wind was fierce and whipped Silnar’s hair away from her face, thrashing it back and forth. From here all the world was seen.

“This is my favorite place to be,” Nienna said. “I love to stand here and watch the world go by, all of those people struggling to survive. I have wept here for them often, wishing to ease their burdens.”

Silnar inhaled deeply of the scent of the world. It was bitter with sadness and death, but sweet with life and love. “I feel as if I am flying!”

“Aye, to stand at this point is to travel with wings; thou can go anywhere thou wish. It is a sensation that very few shall ever experience.”

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Several nights later, Silnar sat in Nienna’s private garden. Whenever she was most melancholy, Silnar would come here and weep or meditate. Tonight she could not summon the strength to do either. Instead, she watched the stars as they wheeled in the night sky and Isil chased the ever disappearing Arien.

Suddenly, Silnar was not alone and it was not Nienna. She turned and saw a tall, finely built figure standing in the shadows. Silnar stood and backed away, her voice guarded when she spoke.

“Who are you that you hide in the shadows? Reveal yourself
“
“Are you sure?” The rough voice answered as he stepped forward, his features clearly defined in Isil’s light. Silnar gasped, her waking dreams come to life.

“Maedhros.”

The crimson haired son of Fëanor nodded. “Yes, I am here.”

With a cry, Silnar rushed forward and into his arms. Maedhros was shocked but encircled her in his strong embrace, his face buried in the sweet smell of her hair.

“I have missed you, Cuivië, more than you can ever know.”

Tears coursed down Silnar’s cheeks as she pressed a gentle kiss to Maedhros’ cheek. “I missed you to, Maedhros, I have thought of you so often. Was your time in Mandos so short?”

“Time means nothing in those halls. I am still serving my punishment, though. Nienna interceded on my behalf and brought me here. I am doing penance for all those I wronged by helping Nienna in her grieving. When you came, I thought my heart would burst.”

Silnar pulled away and led Maedhros to her bench. “I see that you have found some peace.”

He nodded, his hands, both of them, tracing her features. “I see that you have found your true self. I always you that you were special, Cuivië, and I knew that you would find all that you sought for.”

“Have you watched me?” Silnar asked.

Maedhros slowly nodded. “I cannot deny that I was not jealous, angry, that Glorfindel held you. After a time, however, I saw that it was fated, that you were truly happy, or as happy as you could be. I still do love you, Cuivië.”

“I know,” Silnar said, “But I am no longer Cuivië. I am Silnar, now.”

“Yes, I think when I realized that, it was easier to bear. I don’t believe I will ever leave these halls, though. It would be too hard to see you happy with him.”

Silnar laughed bitterly. “I might not leave either, Maedhros. My father has forbidden our match for I am a Vala and he is naught but of the Eldar.”

Maedhros smiled softly. “Do not underestimate the will of Ilúvatar, Cuivië, for he does work in the most mysterious of ways.”

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When Silnar left Nienna’s halls, she was renewed and sure of her place in the world. Maedhros watched her leave with bittersweet emotions. He had grown to love this new woman, but he had also realized that she was lost to him forever.

Nienna stood next to Maedhros, a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Did it help, at all?”

“Yes, my lady, it did.”

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Silnar stood in front of the gilded doors, her knees shaking. She did not know if she had the strength to see this through. Even though Maedhros had thought it a good idea, Silnar still could not help but wish she was back in Nienna’s home, Maedhros at her side.

Taking a deep breath, Silnar forced her hand to rise and fall on the doors. They opened at her touch, beckoning her into the throne room of her father. He sat on his throne in all his glory, at his feet sat Ingwë, watching the approaching Vala with a hooded expression.

Silnar paused several feet from her father and placed a hand to her heart and bowed her head. “I have come before you today to acknowledge my place. I am your daughter and I am ready to assume the position that has been foretold for me.”

Manwë stood and placed a hand on his daughter’s head. “I accept thee, daughter, and welcome thee into thy family.”

Enveloped in the strength of her father’s arms, Silnar cried. She was home, for better or for worse.

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*verno is Quenya for husband


Well, only the epilogue is next and the story will be finished. It’s so sad for me because I fell in love with my characters and it’s sad to see their journeys completed.