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Chapter Text

         There was fire everywhere. Orcs, dragons, balrogs, chaos, and fire. One moment, Aegnor was fighting, he felt a strike against his back, and the next there was nothing. Nothing but light. It was soft, calming. It was silver like the light of Telperion, but also somehow transparent. It melted away and he saw stars, many stars, dancing and twirling around above his head to a rhythm he could not hear. Then Arien’s chariot raced into the sky, and he looked to the west. He saw Valinor, the Pelóri quickly approaching as if to welcome him home. He saw from above at great height Taniquetil, Alqualondë, and Tirion, the woods of Oromë, and the gardens of Lórien with its lake of Lórellin. Then he awoke, as if from a dream. 

         He was lying on the floor in a large hall. The walls were decorated with intricate woven tapestries, hung between grey pillars that rose to a high ceiling. The ceiling sparkled and shone as if it were see-through and showing Varda’s stars. He was wearing traditional grey robes, made of satin. At least they looked satin. He found that he could not feel them and they made no sound. Looking around him, many elves and humans were appearing out of nothing, unconscious on the floor, as he had. One appeared nearby to him that he recognized right away.

         “Angrod,” He said, getting up and running to his brother.

         They embraced and touched foreheads.

         “Do you think this is Mandos, háno?” Angrod asked.

         “I think so,” Aegnor replied.

         “I guess we’re dead, then. I wonder if our families survived.”

         “Well, we shall see soon enough, I suppose. Andreth was close to death anyway, with how old she was. Who would’ve guessed she would outlive me?”

         “I’m sorry.” 

         “Thank you. I knew it would happen eventually. It’s still tough, though.”

         Another person appeared beside him, in the corner of his eye. He paid no attention to them until they spoke.

         “Ada, where are we? Is this Mandos?” the person said.

         He turned quickly to see his eldest son, Aeluion, sitting up on the floor next to him. His son had his unruly golden hair, his slender frame, and a round face Andreth said came from her father. They had named him after the Aeluin, where they met and fell in love. It was the best decision he ever made, marrying Andreth. Out of the thousands of years he had been alive, the few decades he had spent with her were by far the best. Of course they were not perfect, with Finrod disapproving of the match and the threat of Morgoth looming, but he still had never been happier. They had two other children as well. A daughter they named Aelind, and a son they named Nengelion, and he loved them all ardently. And now one of his dear children had been slain in battle. At least they died at the same time.

         “My son!” Aegnor cried, pulling Aeluion into a tight embrace. After he pulled back, he spoke again.

         “Yes, I believe we are in Mandos. What happened?”

         “We had gotten on our horses to run away, and Nengelion and Aelind got a head start. But Nengelion was knocked off his horse and could not move his legs anymore. Aelind looked at me and I knew what I had to do. She stopped and pulled him onto her horse, and I covered them. I was struck and fell over, and the last thing I remember was watching them running away.”

         “What about your mother?”

         “I don’t know. I was going to ready my horse and go back in to get her– put her on it with me— but I never got the chance. The house caught on fire too quickly.”

         Aegnor began to search around the room wildly to see if she had come there. He saw her nearby. She was not the frail old woman he had left that night to fight, but a young woman, like she was when their children were little. 

         “Ammë!” Aeluion said, running to her.

         Aegnor followed, and they both embraced her tightly, her as soon as she was within reach. She pulled back and kissed Aegnor, and he cupped her check and smiled.

         “I’m so glad to know you’re safe,” Aegnor rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks.

         “The house was so hot,” she put her hands over his, “Did I die in a fire?”

         “Morgoth broke through the siege and burned Ard-Galen and Dorthonion,” Aegnor explained.

         “Tragedy. Where are Nengelion and Aelind? Did they make it out?”

         “Last I saw, they were running away,” Aeluion said.

         “Good,” she patted her son on the shoulder, then to Aegnor she said, “They could evade the orcs with the magic your sister taught them.”

         “Aunt Galadriel taught us all sorts of useful spells. Nen more than me. I’m sure they could use one for stealth. And even running fast with Aelind’s horse.”

         “That’s true,” Aegnor’s face was solemn, but hopeful.

         He prayed silently to Varda to guide them to safety.

         “That will be good,” Andreth nodded her assent. “May Elbereth protect them.”

         “Indeed,” Aegnor turned to Angrod. “What about your children, háno?” 

         Angrod had walked towards them at a normal pace.

         “I don’t see them anywhere. I hope they survived and escaped,” Angrod said.

         “May Elbereth protect them as well,” Andreth said.

         “Yes.”

         “At least Aunt Eladótë went to visit Nargothrond,” Aeluion added.

         “Yes, that was a stroke of luck,” Angrod sat down next to his nephew.

         “So, what do we do now?” Aeluion  asked, “Wait?”

         “Yes,” Came a grave, female voice behind them. They turned with a start, and there was a woman standing behind them. She wore a grey cloak, shining like silver. As she raised her arm, thin fingers peered out from her flowing sleeves and revealed grey, shimmering skin. A maia. She pointed at Andreth.

         “She does not wait, however. Her soul must depart beyond the world,” the maia’s voice was cold and monotone.

         “You would separate me from my family? My husband and child?” Andreth spat, incredulous. 

         The maia was unmoved. 

         “If you wish, you may stay until you are at peace,” the maia replied.

         “I’ll never be at peace if I cannot be with my family,” Andreth asserted.

         “These rules were made by Eru, not by us.”

         “What did Eru say about peredhil?” Aeluion asked.

         “You may speak to Lord Námo about that,” the maia said.

         She bowed her head and was gone. 

         “What was that about?” Aeluion asked, “They can’t take Ammë away! And how on Arda am I supposed to speak to Lord Námo?”

         “I wish I knew,” Aegnor sighed.

         He embraced his son and kissed him on the forehead.

         “We’ll get through this,” Aegnor assured him.

         Just then, they noticed a large archway about 20 feet away from them. It opened into what looked like a castle hallway, covered in tapestries.

         “That wasn’t there a few minutes ago, was it?” Aeluion asked.

         “I didn’t see it, either,” Angrod said.

         A regal-looking elf man with long black hair and a coronet walked through the archway. He wore a white silk garment similar to the one the maia had been wearing, with a star embroidered on the front in silver.

         “Is that who I think it is?” Aeluion asked.

         “Uncle Fëanor,” Angrod’s words were harsh, disdain dropping from his lips like venom.

         The man caught sight of them and rushed over.

         “Dear nephews,” He said, like a man on a mission, “And your wife and child. I have come to plead your forgiveness.”

         He fell to his knees in front of them and bowed his head. Aegnor looked around and saw that there was no longer anyone else around but the five of them. Their surroundings melted away, and then reformed, and they were in a sitting room of sorts. There were three couches, a card table and a window from which came a pure white light.

         “I have had much time to think, and have talked at length with Lady Nienna,” Fëanor said, “I realize my actions were selfish and prideful and utterly horrid. I thought too much of my Silmarils when I should have been thinking of the good of my family and my people. I apologize for slaughtering your kin in Alqualondë, for burning the ships at Losgar and stranding you, forcing you to cross the Helcaraxë, and whatever other evil deeds you hold me in contempt for. I should not have done those things, and I know now that no treasure, no matter how great, is more important than the health and wellbeing of my family. Even if I wasn’t stuck in here forever, I would never put so many lives at risk over such a silly thing as some jewels ever again.”

         “I forgive you, uncle,” Aegnor clapped him on the shoulder. “Be at peace.”

         “It will take me some time to process this,” Angrod said, “Give me some time to think.”

         “While I do greatly appreciate the apology, because that oath caused a lot of ill, I never would’ve been born if you never told Ada to come to Middle Earth, so there’s that.” Aeluion said.

         “I agree with my son,” Andreth added, “Despite the horrors you caused, my family exists because of what you did.”

         “You’re a human,” Fëanor observed.

         “Yes,” She replied.

         “Wait- how do you know about humans? You died before they came out of the East,” Aeluion said. “Also, where are we? I thought we were in the great hall.”

         “Mandos shifts like that, to suit its needs, and the needs of its inhabitants. We needed somewhere to be alone, and it gave it to us,” Fëanor explained.

         “Woah,” Aeluion looked around, amazed.

         “You also asked how I know about humans,” Fëanor motioned towards the door to the front of the suite, “Come with me. All of you can come, as a matter of fact.”

         He opened the door, and the hallway from behind the archway opened up in front of them. They could see the tapestries closer now, and the subjects of them were all events from the House of Finwë. The creation of the Silmarils. The flight of the Ñoldor. Maedhros being saved by Fingon. Him giving the crown to Fingolfin. It went on and on.

         “My ammë makes these,” Fëanor motioned to the tapestries covering the walls, “And Vairë has even bigger ones of the history of all Arda covering the hallways. That’s how I know about humans–I saw them on Vairë’s tapestries.”

         “The ones that were hung in the great hall?” Aeluion asked.

         “Yes.”

         “But those were so high up. How are you supposed to see them?”

         “You can see them closer if you wish to. Like I said, Mandos changes itself for the needs of its residents. Also, I think you would appreciate this one.”

         There was a tapestry of Aegnor and Andreth’s marriage.

         “Look, Ammë! Ada!” Aeluion exclaimed excitedly, “It’s you two!”

         “How lovely.” Andreth said. “She did it perfectly.”

         “I will tell her you said so,” Fëanor said.

         “Do the tapestries say what happened to our families back in Middle Earth?” Aegnor asked.

         “Do you mean since you died?” Fëanor asked.

         “Yes.”

         “Not yet. Ammë is probably still working on it. She is still only an elf, after all. But we can ask her.”

         Their surroundings melted yet again, and a door appeared before Fëanor. He knocked.

         “Ammë, it’s me. Are you busy?” He called.

         “Come in, yonya,” came a dulcet voice from the other side.

         They walked into an elaborate weaver’s studio. There were tall, arched windows across the wall, giving off the same white light as in the drawing room before. Between the windows were shelves full of threads, spools of different fibers, and many other implements that were probably used in weaving. There were spindles in a few spots and a giant loom in the center of the room. A few maiar walked around or spun thread. Off to the side, there was a table, and Míriel sat there, looking at a scroll. She looked up as they approached.

         “Yonya, I see you’ve brought more of our family to me. How lovely,” she gave her son a loving kiss on the forehead. “You must introduce us.”

         “Ammë, you already know who they are,” Fëanor joked with her.

         His uncle must have really changed. His uptight Uncle Fëanor was joking.

         “Yes, but I thought they might like to introduce themselves first,” she smiled brightly.

         “Queen Míriel, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Andreth curtsied.

         “I thank you, it is a pleasure to meet you as well, dear Saelind. Although I am no longer queen of the Ñoldor. That title belongs to Indis now.” Míriel replied.

         “Well noted,” Andreth said.

         “Lady Míriel, can you tell us what has happened to our families?” Aegnor asked.

         “I was just reading it now. It looks like…” She paused to scan the scroll, “Aegnor and Andreth–your children Nengelion and Aelind made it to Doriath, and Melian was able to partially heal his legs. Angrod–Your son Orordreth, granddaughter Finduilas, and daughter-in-law Messel escaped to Nargothrond. Finrod was saved by a human, Barahir, and escaped. Your sister Galadriel was across the Blue Mountains and was totally out of harm’s way. And yonya,” she put her hand on her son’s shoulder, “Unfortunately, your sons’ realms were mostly taken by Morgoth. But they themselves escaped.”

         “If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that lives are more important than objects,” Fëanor looked dejected, and sighed.

         “Very true, dear.” Míriel rubbed his back comfortingly.

         “How do you get these scrolls?” Aeluion asked.

         “From Eönwë,” Míriel angled it towards Aeluion to show him a golden seal at the bottom in the shape of an eagle’s head, “He sends me one whenever something big happens, or I don’t have anything to weave. Him and Ilmarë gather the pertinent information and send it my way. They’re very good about it.”

         “That’s good,” Aeluion cocked his head slightly to get a better look. “So, how does your process work? Your creative process?”

         They spent a long time with Míriel in her workspace, with her detailing her process from planning to actually weaving and sewing. Some of it was boring, but some of it was enthralling. Her maiar workers even helped a few times with demonstrations–they of course used magic with their spinning, which was incredible to see. After a while, she said she should get back to her work, but that it was lovely meeting them.

Chapter Text

         It was not a particularly nice day in Dorthonion, the day Aegnor had met his wife. It was actually quite cloudy, a bit dreary, with a thick cloud cover and a light fog hanging in the air, making a constant threat of rain. He would have otherwise stayed in. Sat beside the warm fire, shared stories or songs, or played games with his brother. But something compelled him to go see the lake Tarn Aeluin, so he took his horse and went there. He was walking along the edge of the lake with his horse. Despite the overcast weather, it had not begun to rain and the surface of the water was quite clear. It was very calming and meditative, watching the endless quilt of clouds in the sky pass by on the water. He began to think of his life. His brothers, his sister, the siege… he was quite deep in thought when he saw on the water the reflection of a beautiful young woman. She was so beautiful that he thought she must have been something he had thought up- some sort of a vision or a waking dream. But when he looked up, he saw the very real woman standing in front of him. He stopped walking immediately, and she he looked up at him.

         “My apologies, sir, I did not see you there,” she said.

         “The fault is all mine, madam.” He replied, “I was not paying attention.”

She smiled at him, and it was the most lovely thing he had ever seen in his life.
“It is quite the dreary day to be riding, is it not?” she said.

         “It is indeed.” He responded, “And yet, I felt the need to.”

         “How strange. I felt the same way. I suppose we were meant to meet here.”

         “I suppose so.” He was overcome, and he had to know more about her.

         “May I ask your name?”

         “My parents call me Andreth. What is yours?” 

         “I am Aegnor here, although it is not what my parents called me. My father called me Ambaráto, but it would be far too close to my cousin’s name in Sindarin, so I go instead by my mother name, Aikanáro, which in Sindarin, is Aegnor.”

         “Surely you cannot have the same name as your cousin.” She smiled. 

         That was the beginning of a long, and thoughtful conversation that led to many more. They walked with each other through the forests, sat under trees and by Tarn Aeluin, and rode horses along the wide plains of Ard-Galen. Angrod warned him about his attachment to Andreth, since she was mortal, but he could not help himself. Not when she was so wise, and thoughtful, and kind. He never felt so happy, so alive, as when he was with her.

         One day, as she was tending her horse at her stables, his hand brushed hers on accident and it sent shock waves up his body. Then their eyes met, and it was like time stood still. He could get lost in her eyes. They were brown as the earth, rustic and beautiful, and he was filled with the urge to reach out and press her lips to his. His heart was fluttering like the wings of a young bird. The air was heavy with anticipation as they stared at each other, but then the horse whinnied.

         “All right,” she told to the horse.

He thought the moment was broken, but then she took his hand and kissed the top of it while looking him straight in the eyes. His breath caught in his throat and his heart skipped a beat.

         “There’s more of that, if you’d like,” she smirked, a flirty look on her face.

         “I would,” he said.

         “Very well. See you tomorrow. Namárië.”

         “Namárië,” he bowed.

         They continued their meetings, this time with stolen kisses and tender touches. A few months later saw them lying by the waters of Tarn Aeluin, where they had met. She had her head on his shoulder, and he had his arm around her.

         “I would ask you to marry me, if the laws of my people allowed it,” Aegnor said.

         “I would accept, but may I ask why they don’t?” Andreth asked.

         “We’re at war, technically, with Morgoth, and there are to be no marriages at a time of war.”

         “That’s a shame. I would dearly love to see a little boy with your blonde hair toddling around.”

         “And I would love myself to see a little girl with your brown hair running around with him. It would be the most joyful thing in the world.”

         And then he had a vision–two young children, the likeness of their parents, running around his sitting room and playing with each other. Perhaps it was folly, because he knew that Andreth would one day die, but that did not matter  to him. Then it came, like a flash of lightning–he couldn’t wait for the war to be over, because Andreth would grow old and die one day, and one day soon. He wanted to marry her, and she wanted to marry him, and she made him feel more than he had in all his thousands of years of life. Forget the law. Finrod was the only person who mattered to him who would actually object–and if they got married before he knew it, there would be nothing he could do to stop it.

         “Nevermind the law. Let’s get married anyway.” Aegnor said.

         “Are you sure?” Andreth said, “Will you be shunned by your people or anything? I wouldn’t want that to happen on account of me.”

         “No, nothing of the sort. Angrod will begrudgingly accept it, and Galadriel will be happy for us. My brother Finrod will probably be against it at first, so we should do it before he knows. But when he gets to know you, he’ll love you. He really likes humans.”

         “Okay.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Let’s do it.”

         He brought her in for another kiss, deeper, and more passionate. He never regretted that day. He was right about his siblings’ reactions. Angrod merely asked him if he was sure he wanted to go through with it, and when he told his brother that he had never been more sure of anything, he acquiesced. Galadriel was overjoyed, and brought an entire entourage from Doriath, filled with food, some jewelry, and three dresses for Andreth that she had made herself. Finrod showed up the day after the wedding. He was disheveled and clearly exhausted, and when he went to the stables, he saw Andreth brushing her horse. Before he could say anything, Galadriel peeked her head around the corner.

         “Sorry, háno, you’re too late. The wedding was yesterday.” Galadriel told him matter of factly.

         Finrod’s shoulders sagged and he let out an audible sigh.

         “But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll love your new sister-in-law.” Galadriel added, as if in reply.         “There she is, Andreth.”

         Andreth put the brush down and turned towards him.

         “Pleased to make your acquaintance, King Finrod,” Andreth curtsied.

         He was then the picture of courtesy.

         “The pleasure is all mine,” he bowed to Andreth.

         But when Galadriel led him into the house, he sure gave Aegnor a talking to. Galadriel was right, however. Finrod did grow to love Andreth. This was especially true when her and Aegnor’s children came. Their three children were adored and doted on by all of their aunts and uncles, Galadriel especially. She taught them all sorts of magic, the kind she had learned from Melian in Doriath, and she always sent them presents when she went out on her travels. Aegnor’s family was his world, and he never ceased to love any of them, even as Andreth grew old and weak, and he knew the day was coming when he would lose his wife forever. But it didn’t feel like that, for some reason.

Chapter Text

          When they left Míriel’s workspace, they came out into a new hallway they had not seen before. It was like a castle hallway, but the stone was the same translucent grey as the ceiling in the great hall. There was no sound, no smell, and the floor beneath their feet had no feeling, even though they were only wearing thin slippers. They had not taken five steps ahead when the maia from the great hall appeared before them.

         “Lord Námo will see you now, Aeluion, son of Aegnor.” the maia said.

         Andreth's son began to fade before them and Andreth reached out for him, but found no purchase as her hand fell right through his. Panic surged through her. She could not be separated from her son in a place like this, so fluid and strange. Not when she had no idea of the fate of peredhil or if she were ever to see him again. And what would happen in the conversation with Lord Námo? She knew he would never hurt her son outright, but things in this place could be awfully sudden and final. Aeluion liked to ask questions and have all the information, but he also had a fiery spirit, like his father. Moreover, she needed to plead her own case as well, and they were unlikely to let her do so by herself. Aeluion’s eyes grew large and his brow wrinkled, as their hands passed through each other, and she could tell he was just as panicked.

         “I don’t want to go without my parents,” Aeluion sputtered.

         “Very well. They may come,” the maia said.

         Then, Aeluion came back into focus and their surroundings melted away together. The panic was replaced with a rush of relief, and she gathered her son in her arms and pressed their foreheads together.

         “It’s okay. You did well. It’s okay,” she soothed him. 

         He grabbed onto her, holding tightly, and Aegnor joined them in the hug. It was a comforting moment of respite in the arms of two of her favorite people in the world. She only missed her two other children. But Míriel had said they escaped to Doriath, she reminded herself, so she knew they were safe. Queen Melian made sure everyone within her borders was safe. Galadriel was there, so they would have family with them as well.

         When they broke apart, she realized that Angrod and Uncle Fëanor had been left behind, for better or for worse, and they stood in a magnificent throne room. The walls were supported by giant pillars of what gleamed like silver. There was an intricate vaulted ceiling made of the same translucent material as the ceiling in the great hall, which also somehow looked through to the sky full of Varda’s stars, but there was also a blue-green glow that danced about it. At the end was a large dais with two large figures, at least 15 feet tall each. One of them was sitting on a throne, and the other next to it.

         The one on the throne she knew immediately as Lord Námo. He was wearing a long, black robe with silverwork embroidery, and had a grim expression on his dark face. Though he was not quite as severe and foreboding as how she heard people describe him- those descriptions mainly coming from the day Námo tried to convince the Ñoldor not to leave Aman. The figure to the left of him was a woman in a grey hood that obscured her face. The sleeves of her dress went down to her wrists and they were only lightly embroidered with silver at the cuffs. Her hands were a pearly white with light green lines down them. It was not a sickly green, but a calming, reassuring green, such as shallow waters in the sea, or the bud of a leaf when it first emerges.

         “Who is the lady on the left?” Aeluion whispered to him.

         “Lady Nienna.” Aegnor whispered back, “Don’t worry, she’s nice, just sad.”

         “I am Námo, Lord of Mandos. Welcome to my halls,” Mandos said. He had a deep, booming voice. “Speak, Aeluion, son of Aegnor, so I may hear your query.”

         “Thank you for seeing me, Lord Námo. I want to ask what is to happen to my mother, and what is to happen to me? Please do not separate her from us. She is kind, loving, and wise, and above all else is one of the most goodhearted people in all of Middle Earth. We love her dearly, as she loves us. It would be beyond cruel and unjust to keep us apart until the end of the world.”

         “I hear your words, but I cannot heed them. It was Eru who decreed that humans should go beyond the world, and elves should be bound to it. We cannot break that rule.” Námo said.

         “But-“ Aeluion said, struggling for words. 

She would have to help her son out.

         “Lord Námo, if I may,” Andreth stepping forward. 

         He put up a hand to silence her, but then Nienna spoke.

         “Let her speak.” Her voice was profound like water, and filled them with many deep emotions, the chief among them sadness, compassion, and peace. “No one is to be sent from Mandos by force. All are to find peace here first, and she is clearly not at peace.”

         “Very well, sister. You make a valid point,” he told to Nienna, then turning to Andreth, “State your case. It will not be said that I turned you out unwillingly, without first hearing your argument.”

         “You say that Eru Ilúvatar made these rules that say elves and humans should be separated,” Andreth reasoned. “But Eru also brought me and my elven husband together. It was fate that led us to meet by the Tarn Aeluin that day. We both felt that we needed to be there, though we could not understand why, and that is when we met each other. Furthermore, why would Eru make humans and elves able to have children with each other, if peredhil were never meant to exist? Therefore, our union was blessed by the One from the start, Eru has a plan for peredhil, and you cannot separate us.”

         “Besides,” Aeluion added, “You cannot follow your rule with me. I am both an elf and a human, and you cannot cut my fëa in half.”

         “It is true that we were never told what happens to peredhil fëar. And you say that fate led you two together. This is quite the quandary,” Námo put his head in his hand, thinking deeply.

         “Perhaps we should ask King Manwë to ask Eru for us,” Nienna turned towards her brother.

         “Very well,” Námo turned to the family before him. “That is what we shall do. You three are welcome to stay here together until we return with a decision.”

         Their surroundings changed again to that of a sitting room.

         “Well, all we can do now is wait,” Aeluion looked hopefully at his mother.

         “Wait, and hope,” Andreth told her son, putting a hand on his shoulder.

         Eru, please don’t separate my family. She thought. Please let us stay together.

Chapter Text

         They found out soon that Angrod was staying in the same suite as them. They told him what had happened, and he wished for the best outcome for them. Angrod agreed that he would wait with them until they had received their judgement, so he could tell their family back in Tirion about what had happened to them if they could not make it back themselves. All four of them were free to walk the halls, and they found that now they could also make a place in Mandos appear before them, if they wished to go to it. There were a few exceptions, of course, like the throne room, but true for most things. It was quite strange and hard to get used to, but also terribly convenient. There was no way to tell time in Mandos, with there being no way to see the moon or sun, and them not needing to eat, drink, or sleep. But Lady Nienna was always there to talk with them, if they wished, and they were always welcome in Míriel’s workspace. One such day, they were visiting Míriel when there was a knock at the door.

         “Who is it?” She asked.

         “Eönwë,” a voice came from the other side.

         “Come in, come in,” Míriel said, getting up to greet him.

         He was tall with iridescent blue feathers crowning his head instead of hair. The feathers went down around his neck and disappeared under his elaborately embroidered silk robe. Two large wings, each about twice the size of his body, sprouted from his shoulder blades and hugged his sides. They were a deep purple, and they shrunk down as he passed through the doorway, and then grew back to their normal size once he had entered. He stood upright and walked like an elf or a human on two legs.

         “I was beginning to wonder what was keeping you. You’re normally so punctual with your scrolls,” Míriel stopped her weaving and stood up, dusting herself off.

         “My apologies,” Eönwë walked towards them, “All of Valmar is in a tizzy. A half-elf, half-human has come here to Mandos, and Lord Námo and King Manwë have no idea what to do about it. They called a meeting of the Valar in the Ring of Doom, but none of the other Valar know what to do either. I believe King Manwë was about to ask Eru what to do before I left. They were so long in their meeting that I could not ask for the information for your scroll until just recently. That is the reason for my delay.”

         Everyone stared at him, and was silent. An awkwardness hung heavy in the air.

         “They’re doing that all for me?” Aeluion joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I feel so special.”

         “Oh, so you’re the one everyone is talking about!” Eönwë said.

         “I believe so,” Aeluion said, “Unless another peredhel has come that I don’t know about.”

         “There are others?” Eönwë asked, stunned.

         “I have a brother and a sister.”

         Eönwë’s black bird eyes blew wide.

         “Well, I hope they figure out something to do that works well,” he responded.

         “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

         “Also, Lady Míriel, here is your scroll.” Eönwë reached his glistening blue arm into his satchel and handed it to her.

         “Thank you. A pleasure, as always,” Míriel told him.

         “Of course,” Eönwë said “I shall be going. Until next time.”

         “Until next time.”

         As soon as Eönwë had left, Míriel opened the scroll and began to read it. It rustled under her fingers. She walked over to her table, and placed it down on top of it.

         “You three would probably like to see this,” she unrolled the luxurious scroll before her.

         They walked over, and began to read the scrawling tengwar script, written in what looked like golden ink. It told of how Queen Melian allowed Aelind and Nengelion into Doriath. Thingol was wary, but Melian foresaw that help would come to their house from the siblings in the future. Melian had healed Nengelion as much as she could, allowing him to regain partial use of his legs, and to walk without pain for short distances. Galadriel took them in and treated them as if they were her own children. At her orders, Nen was retaught how to ride a horse using spurs, magnetic stirrups to keep his feet in, and a whip.

         “I would expect nothing less of my sister. She always doted on them greatly,” Aegnor’s voice was overflowing with fondness. “Telling them stories and teaching them magic whenever she could.”

         “Yes, she was very good to us,” Andreth added. “The only one of your family to approve of our union from the beginning.”

         “Indeed.” Aegnor took Andreth into his arms and pressed a loving kiss to her forehead.

         “Good to know my sacrifice was not in vain,” Aeluion added.

         “No, your brother will be well taken care of, that is for sure.”

Chapter Text

         Leaving Míriel’s workshop, the family once again saw the maia from Námo’s throne room standing in the middle of the hallway. She looked less severe and somber this time.

         “Lord Námo will see you now,” she told them. They saw their surroundings shift again and they were in front of his throne once more.

         “Aeluion, son of Aegnor,” Námo’s voice boomed, “I went to speak with King Manwë and the other Valar, and we have decided to let you decide your own fate. You may choose the immortal life of an elf, and be reborn in Valinor. Or, you may choose the fate of humans, to go beyond the world to wherever humans go when they die. Whatever choice you make will be permanent, so be sure before you make your choice.”

         Námo then turned to Andreth.

         “Princess Saelind. Due to your kind and good nature, and your marriage to one of the Ñoldor, the Valar are willing to grant you immortality. If that is your wish, of course. You may live in Valinor, to stay with your husband, but please, keep it a secret. At least for now. If other humans were to find out about this, and think they can forsake their gift of death by marrying an elf, it would be a disaster. Definitely not what Eru wanted.”

         “Thank you very much, Lord Námo.” Andreth curtsied low.

         “Yes, thank you!” “Our most sincere thanks.” Aegnor and Aeluion bowed deeply as well.

         “We will not soon forget your kindness,” Andreth continued, “We will need time together as a family to discuss this before we make a decision.”

         “Have all the time you need,” Námo assured them. “Is there anything else you would like to ask before we send you back to your suite?”

         “How shall we find you when we are ready?”

         “Just say so to one of my maiar. They will bring you to me when I am available.”

         “Very well.”

         The world warped around them again, and they were back in their own suite. They thought long and hard about it, discussing it at length with each other. They decided to be reembodied and live as elves in Valinor. They figured that Aelind and Nengelion would probably choose that, after they had spent so much time living with Galadriel and Celeborn, and Angrod had no choice. It was a hard decision, nonetheless. Andreth knew she would not see her family again for ages.

         After the family had made their decision, Andreth, Aegnor, and Aeluion went out in search of a maia to help them. Andreth went out first, and only had made a few steps outside of the suite before a maia appeared before them. She stopped in shock.

         “You have made your decision?” The maia asked.

         “Yes, and we wish to see Lord Námo to tell him,” Andreth replied.

         “Very well.”

         The maia was gone only for what seemed like seconds before reappearing.

         “What luck. Lord Námo said he will see you immediately.” The maia turned around as their surroundings morphed again into the inside of the throne room.

         “Aeluion, son of Aegnor, I hear you have made your choice.” Námo’s voice rumbled.

         “Yes, Lord Námo, we wish to be re-embodied and live among the elves of Valinor.” Aeluion bowed.

         “Well, then… we shall have to make your mother immortal.” Turning to Andreth, Mandos said, “Princess Saelind, is this amenable to you?”

         “Yes, Lord Námo,” Andreth replied.

         “Sister, are you ready?“ Námo asked.

         They then noticed Nienna standing off to the side. She nodded solemnly.

         “Here,” Nienna said, her voice less powerful and full of emotion than before.

         She gently pulled back her hood to reveal a long face with four eyes, offset so that the top two were not above the bottom two. Her skin was a pearly white. Long, green tear streaks stretched down her cheeks from each eye down to the curve of her chin. There was a deep sorrow in her eyes, which began to water with tears, but also profound wisdom and power.

         “I must cry on you, do you allow it?”

         “Yes,” Andreth said.

         She walked slowly over to Andreth, her dress swaying and flowing around quietly in ways that seemed impossible, and glowing like satin with the sheen of a pearl. Once she reached Andreth, she stopped. She towered over Andreth and her family, but was not imposing. Then, she began softly weeping. Clear, green-tinted tears flowed down the tear lines from her four eyes and fell off her chin. When the first tear touched Andreth’s head, it was cool and refreshing, like drinking clear water after being parched. Andreth reached out a hand and let a tear fall onto it. A subtle blackness, like some kind of ink, was carried away from her hand by each tear and fizzled into nothing. She soon felt stronger and more acutely aware of everything around her. Her son, transfixed but everything happening; her husband, ready to pull her away if anything when awry; Nienna with her display of tremendous power.

         Then, Námo began to chant something. It was in a strange language like nothing she had ever heard before. Something very old, like the mountains, or the oceans themselves, but sounded exactly how she thought shooting stars did as they flew across the night sky. He stopped. There was a sudden rush of strength, more than anything she had ever felt, and her senses became even sharper, which she had not thought possible. Then it occurred to her–was this how elves felt all the time? She reached up to feel her ears. Still rounded, thank goodness. Nienna stopped weeping.

         “We did not make you an elf, we only gave you immortality,” Nienna assured her.

         “Thank you,” Andreth said.

         “One more thing, before I release you,” Námo told them, his voice seeming to be nervous, “Please do not tell too many people about this–us making you immortal–we don’t want any other humans thinking they can get into Valinor just by having an elven spouse and peredhel child.”

         “Of course.” Andreth replied.

         Aeluion and Aegnor assented as well.

         “Well, if there is nothing else you wish to do here, I give you all three leave from Mandos.” Námo tol them.

         “How do we get out?” Aeluion asked.

         “One of my maiar will help you.”

         “If any of you ever need my counsel, you are free to come visit my halls,” Nienna said.

         “Thank you very much,” Andreth told her, curtsying.

         “Likewise,” Aegnor bowed.

         “Yes, thank you,” Aeluion bowed when he saw his parents doing it.

         The room began to melt away into their sitting room. As soon as they were alone, all three of them hugged each other tightly. After a while, they let go.

         “I’m glad they didn’t change your ears, either,” Aegnor traced the outside of one of her curved ears with his fingers. “I like your ears.”

         Andreth smiled and gave him a quick kiss.

         “What happened?” Angrod was poking his head through the door that connected their suites, “Something good, I hope?”

         “The Valar granted me immortality and leave to live in Valinor,” Andreth told him.

         “Really? That’s amazing. I’m so glad.” He walked over to them.

         “And you didn’t want us to get married,” Aegnor joked, nudging his brother with his shoulder.

         “I know, I know. I was wrong,” Angrod conceded.

         “I’m sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you.” Aegnor put his hand to his ear as if he was trying to hear better. Then he began to chuckle, and everyone else followed suit. He pulled Angrod into a hug.

         “I will go see Lord Námo and tell him I am ready to be reembodied, and we can go home to Tirion together. See Atar and Ammë again.”

         “Lord Námo said not to publicize it too much, Andreth becoming immortal. They don’t want any humans seducing elves to gain immortality. So, Tirion is probably off the table, with the whole court of the Ñoldor being there.” Aegnor said.

         “That’s fine. We can find you a country estate somewhere. At least it will be a lot quieter than Tirion. And I can go there to tell Ammë and Atar where you are–away from the gossips.”

         “Sounds great.”

         “Well, I’m off to see Lord Námo, hopefully. See you on the other side.”

         “See you,”

         “Until later,” Andreth said.

         “Namarië, uncle,” added Aeluion.

         And Angrod disappeared back into his suite.

Chapter Text

         Right beside them, a maia appeared, with three folded garments in her arms. 

         “Here, you will need physical clothes once you have physical bodies again,” the maia said.

         “Wait.We don’t have physical bodies anymore?” Aeluion asked.

         “No, right now, we’re just spirits.” Andreth said.

         “You will know it when you have a physical body again,” The maia responded. 

         Andreth took the first garment, which was white silk, and she could actually feel it–cool and smooth, with no wrinkles. But when she picked it up, it billowed out into a long robe meant for a man who was much taller.

         “I think this is yours, meldanya,” She quickly refolded the robe and gave it to her husband. 

         “Thank you,” Aegnor took it.

         “This one is yours, Ammë,” Aeluion handed her a white silk dress.

         He then took the last robe in the maia’s hands.

         “So, what do we do with them?” Do we put them on?” Aeluion asked.

         “Not until you have physical bodies,” the maia disappeared as soon as she had finished speaking.

         “Sheesh.” Aeluion just held the garment in his arms. "Well, I guess I’ll just hold this here?” 

         “That’s what we’re doing,” Aegnor said.

         “I can’t think of anything else they would want us to do with them,” Andreth held the gown in her hands, giving it a quick look.

         They then noticed they were no longer in the throne room, but a hallway–one they had never seen before. A large gate appeared before them. It towered above them, and the hallway grew to accommodate it. It was dark as obsidian, shimmering as such, while lights swirled around in intricate patterns and loops. Suddenly they stopped. Aeluion reached out towards it, but it opened wide before he could even touch it. The door did not move, but disappeared before their eyes. Only an archway in its place. Outside was a field of grass, more lush and green than anything he had seen before in his life. He faltered.

         “Let’s go to our new home,” Aegnor put a hand on his shoulder and smiled warmly.

         Aeluion nodded in assent. The three of them walked out of the gate, and it shut quickly behind them, the great black door once again inside the arch. There was a small gust of sea air, and he shivered. He shivered. There were sights, sounds, smells, and feelings–real feelings–in his body again. He stood there and let the wind blow over him, relishing in the feeling. It smelled of sea water, and the grass was soft under his feet. Looking over at his parents, he noticed them putting on their robes, and he did so with his.

         There was a smooth, dirt path leading away from the door. Following the path, they found a large inn with a metal roof and crystal windows. That seemed far too fancy to be in the middle of nowhere. Next to the inn was a metal pole with a myriad of signs pointing in different directions. Some names he recognized, like Tirion and Alqualondë, and others were strange. An elf walked out of the inn to greet them as they approached. She wore a large green dress with an apron over it, that draped over her large frame. She had flowers in her golden hair. It was braided into intricate patterns and wrapped around her head like a crown. She had freckles and a smile that warmed her face like a hearth in winter.

         “New arrivals,” she yelled in Quenya to someone inside the building. Turning to them, she asked, “Quenya? Sindarin? Telerin?”

         “Quenya is fine,” Aegnor responded to her.

         “Lovely,” the woman said, “You are just reembodied from Mandos, correct?”

         “Yes, we are–”

         “Glad to have you back! Where are you headed? Tirion? Valmar?”

         “I am a prince of the Ñoldor and my wife and I wish to purchase a country estate, and not to return to Tirion.”

         “Very well. We can help with that. Come on in, we will fix you up with a room while we look up someone for you to buy an estate from. You might have to build it yourself, though. And if you have any family you would like to notify of your reembodiment, we can let them know as well.”

         “Thank you very much. Just a room and looking up an estate for us. My brother should be arriving eventually from Mandos as well.”

         “How did you know we were reembodied?” Aeluion asked her.

         “They give everyone the same robes,” she responded.

         She showed them into the inn. It was warm and cozy inside with a roaring fireplace and multiple large tables. The space seemed a lot larger than it looked on the outside, so there must have been a large portion of the inn they did not see. Nestled into the side, there was a large counter with an assortment of drinks and glasses too fancy for a country inn. There was an elven man slumbering in a chair that leaned backward until only the back legs were on the ground. His brown hair spilled out behind him, and his legs were propped up on the counter. Shining eyes starred unconsciously towards the door, but he did nothing as the approached.

         “Vaháyo, new guests,” the woman said, pushing on one of his feet.

         He startled, losing his balance, and falling onto the ground. The lady laughed, not unkindly.

         “Did you not hear me yelling from outside?” She asked him.

         “Sorry, meldanya,” he said, “I was trying to get some sleep after the last of the casualties from that battle left…”

         “No worries,” She smiled, “Room keys for our guests?”

         “Yes, yes, right away!” He stumbled to his feet, and turned around.

Behind him was a glass cabinet filled with foodstuffs, but the contents disappeared as he opened it. Instead, a hook appeared with a key on it.

         “Here we are. This room for them.” He took the key off the hook, passing it to Aegnor.

         “Woah! How did you do that?” Aeluion gasped.

         “The inn is enchanted. That is how we get the room keys.” Vaháyo smiled.

         “That is so cool.”

         “Glad it entertains you.” He smiled, “By the way, my name is Vaháyo, as my wife said, and if you need anything, just ask.”

         “Thank you, we will.” Aeluion replied.

         “Let me see you to your rooms,” the woman led them up an intricately carved wooden staircase and down a short hallway with only one door in it.

         “Does it get bigger as more people come?” Aeluion asked.

         “Yes, It always makes rooms for however many guests we get. Sometimes we even get a third story.” She smiled widely. “Here are your rooms. Let me know if you need anything. My name is Rehtë, by the way.”

         “Thank you very much,” Andreth curtsied towards her.

         “Yes, thank you,” “Thank you,” Aeluion and Aegnor bowed to her.

         “So fancy,” Rehtë giggled kindly, “It is no problem in the slightest. Come down when you would like your next meal, or if you just want to chat.”

With that, she disappeared down the stairs.

---

         After a few days, Angrod appeared at the inn. The hallway grew longer as another door was added for Angrod’s room. After about a month, Rehtë and her husband were able to find a man willing to sell them land for a country estate. There was already a small cabin there, so they lived in it while the estate was built. Angrod left, just as he said he would, and returned just a week later with Finarfin and Eärwen. Finarfin was far more regal than Aegnor had remembered, even though he was followed by only a few attendants. He rode in stride with Angrod and Eärwen, her silver hair sparkling in the sunlight.

         When Finarfin saw Aegnor, he hastened towards him. Dismounting his horse, he began to cry, and placed his forehead on Aegnor’s.

         “I missed you so much, Yonya,” Finarfin said, his voice quivering.

         “I missed you, too, Atar,” Aegnor replied, pulling his father close.

         Eärwen had caught up with them. She put a comforting hand on Finarfin’s shoulder, before being pulled into the embrace by Aegnor.

         “Three of my favorite people,” she said in her smooth, calming voice.

         “Is this them, Uncle?” Aeluion asked.

         Aegnor saw Eärwen look up towards the sound, and followed her gaze to see Aeluion and Andreth standing on the porch of the cabin with Angrod.

         Eärwen squeezed Finarfin’s shoulder, and let go.

         “Yes, these are your grandparents, Lui,” Angrod said.

         “You must be Aeluion.” Eärwen’s voice was kind and motherly. Her silver hair sparkled in the sunlight as she walked towards the three of them on the porch.

         “Yes, Ammë, allow me to introduce my son, Aeluion.”

Aeluion straightened up, “Good to meet you, Haruni.”

         He began to bow and she raised a hand.

“No need for that between us, Indyo,” She smiled warmly, gathering him closely in a hug.

         Pulling back, she turned her attention to Andreth. “Maitúlië. So lovely to meet you.”

         They talked for quite a while and got along like a house on fire. They had no problem getting people or supplies to build a house and soon had a nice, humble estate. Angrod joined them, and they lived there very happily. Aeluion met a local woman and they fell in love and had four children, three boys and a daughter.