Exploring Westernesse [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Lady of Tears

Upon their swift steeds, the little company of five galloped across the fields of emerald green grass. Beads of sweat rolled down their horses’ necks. As the day drew to a close, Maglor called a halt.

“Look!” He pointed ahead. “The lights there.”

Míril shaded her eyes from the sinking sun. She saw no lights other than the flaming flower of the Sun.

“Wait until the sun sets,” Fingon suggested. “Their eyesight is not as keen as ours.”

With a nodded and a sigh, they picked up the pace once more. Slowly the Sun disappeared behind the horizon line. The stars appeared, like a tapestry woven by Varda herself. At last, the three half elves saw the lights Maglor had spoken of.

“Is that where her house is?” Elrohir shouted to them curiously, the wind drowning him out as they galloped.

But Fingon nodded to him as they halted once more. “Indeed, my friends. Nienna’s abode is now not far. Let us hurry!”

They pushed the horses as fast as they could go. Soon before them there arose a great house. Mansion would've been a better term for it. It’s walls were high, made of light stones and containing many windows. A path of white cobble led to a door carved of a dark wood. The path originated from a road that must've come from somewhere nearby though they knew not what.

A hooded, cloaked figure sat on a chair outside the door, smoking a pipe. Swirling shapes rose from the pipe, flying like butterflies into the air. Fingon and Maglor both dismounted and led their horses forward on foot.

“She’s been expecting you,” said the hidden man, voice clear and familiar.

Elrohir grinned widely as he threw himself down from his horse, soon followed by the other two. “Mithrandir!”

“Yes, yes.” He threw back his hood. “My you three have been busy since you arrived in Valinor.”

Míril laughed merrily as the Maia smiled at her. “Yes, yes we have.” After a pause, she continued. “You disappeared after our feast in Tirion. Why?”

“I had things to do,” Olórin, once called Gandalf, brushed it off. “People to see.”

“You're as tight lipped as a Maia as you were as an Istari,” Elladan shook his head with a smile.

Olórin huffed. “I take that as a compliment.” He turned to Maglor and Fingon. “Thank you for taking care of them.”

“Of course, Olórin,” Fingon bowed deeply. “I assume Lady Nienna is inside?”

Olórin stood from his seat, putting out his pipe. “Indeed, indeed. Follow me.”

The man clothed in greys and blues led them inside the mansion. Upon entering there was a short hallway, wide enough for five to walk abreast. It emptied into a large, circular room with an enormous window for the far, western wall. Great lamps of arcane fires lit the room with a golden hue. Upon the slate tiled floors was a rug of white and silver and black. Míril wandered in awe up to the window. For it overlooked a small cliff into the sea; it was the edge of Valinor.

“Through great pain and sorrow have you come here, children,” came a soft, quiet voice behind them. “And deep regrets hang like clouds over you.”

They spun around to find the speaker. It was a woman, about as tall as Maglor. She wore a black dress with a silver pendent on her breast. Her hair, a translucent silver which looked black when not in the light, fell about her shoulders in loose waves.

“My lady,” Olórin bowed. “May I present Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond, and Míril, called Fëanoriel.”

The woman slowly walked towards them. It seemed to them that each time her eyes fell upon them, tears formed in her own. She gazed right into their souls. Míril felt naked before her.

“It is good you have come here,” Nienna nodded slowly as she circled them. “For you have much anger and resentment in your hearts.” At last she turned from them. “Fingon, Maglor. Vairë has requested you visit her in the Halls.”

They knew this was a dismissal if ever there was one. With quick bows, they left without even bidding the half elves goodbye. Soon enough Míril, Elladan, and Elrohir were left alone with Olórin and Nienna.

“I will start with Míril.” Nienna turned to Olórin and he gestured for the twins to follow him out of the room. Now it was just the two women.

“My lady,” Míril bowed in awe. “It is an honor to meet you.”

Nienna nodded solemnly. “I fear too few come here sharing your view. If more did, there might be less hardship in Arda Marred.”

“I am sorry my lady,” Míril sniffled. “For I am afraid I have done much of that myself.”

With a nod, Nienna took her hands. It was a warm feeling, and Míril felt herself calmed, not as frightened.

“Do not fear. For I am not angry with you, child.” Nienna downcast her eyes. “I merely weep for the world.”

Míril nodded at her and looked back out the window. Varda’s stars were bright here, as with most places in Valinor. She found comfort in them. She loved the stars.

“Míril Fëanoriel.” Nienna stood beside her and looked out the window as well. “Do you have hatred in your heart?”

“No!” Míril paused. “Perhaps.”

Nienna almost cracked a smile before becoming her usual somber self. “Child I do sense it in you. You harbor hatred for the one called Halion Carnimendo.”

At that name, Míril tensed. She felt her hands clench and her face turn red.

“There,” Nienna sighed. “There it is.”

“You are right, my lady,” Miril sighed, angry tears dripping down her face. “He wronged me much.”

Walking forward, Nienna stood right behind the glass. She looked out at the Walls of the World. They were huge walls of falling water, beyond which no one could go. Beyond them, the Void lay. Behind the Doors of Night. With a sigh, she turned back to Míril.

“Indeed he did,” she agreed sadly. “But harboring hatred will only harm you. He has passed beyond your reach, child.”

Míril bowed her head and felt tears flowing. “I do not know how, my lady. All my life I have held hatred. Hatred for the wargs, hatred for the orcs, hatred for the Haradrim. Now I bear hatred for this man of Angmar.”

Nienna nodded. “I shall help you.”