"Greetings, cousin." Findaráto bowed.

"What do you want now?" Morifinwë demanded. Findaráto met his cousin in a private meeting room filled with mementos from Aman. It was a dark, harsh room much suited to Morifinwë's quick temper.

"I come on behalf of your brother Nelyafinwë. He gives you his greetings and love, though he himself cannot come."

"Is that all my meddling brother wants? I would rather he kept his hands away from me."

"Perhaps, but he is eldest and worries for his family," Findaráto said. Morifinwë's anger eased into irritation.

"He should not worry."

"I know, but he will worry just as I worry for my brothers and sister. Send word to him, Moryo, and put his worry to rest."

"If he is so worried, perhaps he might visit instead of locking himself away in his keep."

"You know he cannot leave The March unguarded."

"And I will not leave my lands unguarded as well. We are at war, cousin, or have you heard nothing of events of late while buried in your tunnels?" Morifinwë's face flared angry red.

"I have heard much." Findaráto let the words hang heavy in the tense air between them. Morifinwë visibly struggled to control his anger and finally turned away.

"Is that all, or do you wish to mock me again?"

"A bed to sleep in and a fresh horse is all I ask. I must be on my way again at first light."

"I will send someone to fetch you," Morifinwë said. When he turned around no sign of his anger showed, only the natural red tint of his face remained.

"Thank you. And Moryo, have you heard word from Andreth? I wish to speak with her."

"I am sorry, Findaráto, she passed but nine years ago, shortly after your brother." Morifinwë's rare glimmer of emotion shocked Findaráto nearly as much as the news of Andreth's death. Fleeting were the lives of the second-born. With a heavy heart and step, Findaráto left his cousin's presence.

...

Early the next morning, long before the house of Morifinwë rose, Findaráto rode out into the dawn on a deep chested bay horse. In times of war, it was not unusual for Morifinwë to send his guests with an escort out of his lands, but Findaráto had no desire to remind his cousin of his lacking cordiality. He had another mission in Thargelion.

Nelyafinwë sent Findaráto to not only asses his brother's mood, but to see how the people of Ulfang fared under Morifinwë's rule. It was the latter task Findaráto was most eager to accomplish. Many years had passed since his last visit to humankind and he missed them; their serious manner in the day's tasks, their strange obsession with time, their laughter, but he loved above all else their curiosity for the world around them and insatiable desire to explore.

The land around him passed in a blur of rolling, green hills until he came to a dilapidated village. He'd seen the brown spot no more than a few miles west of his path and, veering Russarocco west, Findaráto began to sing knowing it would be some time before the ears of men hear his voice on the wind. Long ago he'd learned to not sneak up on them. Thus he came, watched eagerly by a group of children.

He rode slowly, still singing, until, surrounded by people, he was stopped by the village chief; a deep-chested man just passed the prime of his life. Findaráto leapt lightly off Russarocco and bowed respectfully. The chief returned the sincere gesture.

"I am Eddön, Chief of Pînrhún."

"Finrod Felagund, Lord of Nargothrond, though I am known among men as Nóm."

"Your name is known to us, Nóm," Eddön said. His eyes creased though his face remained stoic. "What brings you here?"

"The concern of Lord Maedhros, Lord Caranthir, and myself. War affects us all and often mighty lords overlook their people."

"Their war," Eddön spat, "will suck us dry of life. We have no quarrel with you elven lords, but the longer you war, the more we will suffer. We will be forced to leave and seek more wholesome lands. Come, see for yourself." A lanky boy took Russarocco, fumbling a bit while searching for reigns that weren't there.

"He will follow you," Findaráto assured him.

While Eddön briefly showed him the village and explained their desperate situation, Findaráto remained silent. He had not known what to expect, but what he saw was far beyond anything he ever would have imagined. The luckier children played on the paths in clothes too small and full of holes while others toiled alongside their mothers and fathers in little more than loincloths. They were clean, but it was obvious their parents could do little more than that. Hungry eyes followed the elf, drinking in the sight of his fine clothes. Dead-eyed mothers pounded coarse wheat into coarser flour.

"Are other places like this?" Findaráto interrupted. Eddön nodded.

"Some are worse. Many suffer from orc raids stealing food and taking children as slaves. Whole villages have been burned to the ground." Eddön looked out over his home he had watched being built from nothing but grassland.

"And Lord Caranthir has done nothing?"

Eddön reddened. "We have sent messengers. They all return with the same message. Lord Caranthir cannot be bothered to send aid to us while war wages in the north. We are alone and dying."

"I know Lord Caranthir well, this is not like him to refuse aid to anyone who needs it." Even as he spoke Findaráto realized he no longer truly knew Morifinwë. Perhaps, the thought struck him like a blow, he didn't know the son's of Curufinwë, not anymore.

"Perhaps, but war hardens even the kindest hearts, Nóm." They stood in silence for a time.

"I would be remiss if I did not offer you what aid I can." Findaráto watch as Eddön struggled internally. His people were desperate, but they were proud. Accepting aid from a foreign lord, even one as well known and loved as Nóm, would mean succumbing to the truth that they could not survive alone. "I will give you time to consider, Chief. Russarocco and I are weary from the road."

"Of course, you must stay the night. My family can provide you with a bed and a warm meal."

"I require only a place to sleep. Do not expend what little food you have on me."

"I insist, my wife is preparing supper for our daughter's birthday and she would be ashamed of me if I brought a guest and did not feed him."

"Then I will gladly join your family tonight." A rare smile spread across Eddön's face.

...

"Tola, prepare another plate for our guest, Lord Finrod Felagund of Nargothrond."

Tola turned around and nearly dropped her bowl when Findaráto ducked through the doorway.

"You are Nóm," she gasped. Findaráto smiled, barely avoiding hitting his head on a low beam. Tola's head barely came passed his waist. "You should have warned me you were bringing such an important guest," she scolded her husband. Eddön backed away from Tola with his palms out in a pathetic attempt to calm his ferocious wife.

Andreth.

Artanis.

Eӓrwen.

Amarie.

Findaráto pushed back the surge of grief and regret clawing at his throat. Amarie. One day he would return to her, when he was needed here no more. Every day that time drew nearer when he no longer need rely on the memory of her face, but would see her anew each day. Tugging on his cloak distracted him. A little girl no more than ten years looked up at him.

"Are you the singing man in the stories? Mama says Wisdom came and sang to the first men and when he sang, they learned of good things, like sharing my things with my friends."

"Come here and leave Nóm alone," Tola said.

"It is all right. I am Nóm and I did sing for the first men to come into this land." Findaráto smiled as the girl's eyes widened. Her little mouth dropped open. She stuck out her arm in the curious human greeting.

"My name is Ivren."

"Ah, a crystal you must be." He knelt down and kissed her tiny hand. She giggled and leaned in close.

"It is my birthday today," she whispered.

"It is?" Findaráto cried. Ivren nodded, shyly shoving her hands into the pockets of her dress and blushing bright red. "And how old will you be, little crystal?" Ivren drew herself up as tall as she could reach. Findaráto barely withheld his amusement and kept his face grave as Ivren's serious pout.

"I will be eight. Mama said I'm old enough to help with women's work and," she glared at him, "too old for pet names." At this Findaráto laughed aloud, clear and light his mirth rang out, filling the house and lifting the settling night for a brief moment. Ivren's face lit up. "Will you sing tonight? Papa says we will have great fire to celebrate." Findaráto looked at Eddön.

"We have few reasons to celebrate now. It would be an honor of you sang for us."

"It would be my pleasure."

Supper was a quiet affair, with Findaráto discreetly slipping food to Ivren when no one was looking. He thought it strange that the family did not talk more. He knew many human families who turned meals into loud social gatherings and bonded over the conversations at the table.

As soon as she finished eating Ivren pulled Findaráto outside where a group of men were piling wood high. A few musicians with battered instruments practiced nearby. Already many of the children were gathering, chasing each other in circles around the woodpile. He was soon drawn into their games. At last they grew tired of chasing him and climbing up his legs until he fell and then tackling him.

He joined the musicians, listening while they tuned their instruments and shared last minute tips with each other. Long after the sun disappeared, the village gathered around the massive fire to dance, sing, and tell stories. Findaráto hung back until he was asked to sing. He sang songs he learned in Aman, dwarven songs, and songs he learned from men.

The night turned to grey dawn and he found himself sitting among the elders of the village and Eddön. Ivren and another child slept at Findaráto's side.

"I will return to Lord Caranthir today and tell him of your plight. He will listen to me."

"We are in your debt, Nóm. Anything you ask of us we will give you."

"I ask for nothing, friends. I only wish to help."

"There must be something."

Findaráto smiled. "There is nothing of this world that I desire or that can be given to me. Nor would I think to take from you."

"You are generous, Nóm."

...

Findaráto met Morifinwë in the very same room he had stood not three days ago. Now he was again trying to get his cousin to see reason.

"I cannot spare any more of my men or supplies. Aid I send them is aid taken from the northern defenses, defenses against Morgoth and his army. I am sorry Findaráto, but it simply cannot be done."

"They are under your protection, they are your people. Morifinwë, please send them food, weapons. They know how to fight." Findaráto gripped the back of a chair until his knuckles turned white. Morifinwe poured a glad of wine, sat down, and studied Findaráto.

"I cannot."

"Or you will not."

"Either way."

"What would your father want you to do?"

"To protect my own."

Findaráto drew himself up sternly. "Your oath has changed you and your brothers, Morifinwë. And it had not been for the better. I will not stand by and watch innocent spirits be slaughtered as I once did. No more will I cower before evil deeds, too afraid to stand against them." Morifinwë stood abruptly, knocking over his glass and spilling red wine. For a moment, Findaráto thought the wine looked like blood seeping through a growing stain on Morifinwë's shirt.

"You will leave Thargelion. I will send a guard to make sure you are not attacked on your way." Morifinwë swept out of the room.

"You are a grandson of Finwë; this is beneath you. You cannot leave them to die!"

...

Findaráto rode ahead of his guard, fifteen elves strong, deliberately setting the pace at a slow, bone-jarring trot. He was tired, tired of riding, tired of the crusade of the Fëanorians, tired of this war-ravage land. He longed fiercely to see Amarie, walk under starlight with his father, and feel the touch of his mother's hand.

"I do not belong here," he said.

"My lord?" the guard nearest to him asked.

"Nothing."

To the west a plume of black smoke rose above the hills. Findaráto pulled Russarocca to a halt.

"This land is doomed."

***********************************

Arda Marred Contest Entry

elenrith

LevyHome

I procrastinated way too long, but I did get it in before 7/14/2019 was over. 

Finrod is quickly becoming one of my favorite elves. Just a really cool elf with a love for all living things that aren't created by Morgoth.