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odium-amare · 7 years

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Memoirs of a King

(Finrod/Andreth One-shot)

Summary: It was not often elves were nosy and concerned themselves with the race of men, but when they do, you can bet he was a fair golden elf with one of his names being Finrod.

“Leave. And when you have quenched your thirst after exploring Ennor because Valinor alone was not enough for you, never bother coming back to me, Findaráto.”

Were the final chilling words Amarië said to him when he had announced to her that while he did not partake in the kin-slaying at Alqualondë, he will still set forth to go with his other cousins and friends to explore the new world because his hunger for knowledge would not be suppressed, even for an elleth he loved.

His last memory of Amarië was the sleeping form with her back turned to him to the far side of the bed they had both shared. It was not yet dawn and he had crept quietly out of the room to leave with the boats Fëanor and his seven sons had stolen in blood.

He was never certain if she had really been sleeping or pretending to.

oOoOoOo

Three hundred years had passed. Three hundred years had passed since he set foot upon Middle Earth from Aman. Endless war as Morgoth and his minions continue to inhabit the lands but it was not just war. During those years, he had built the city of Minas Tirith or otherwise known as Beleriand, discovered jewels caves and mountains with the help of his friendship with the dwarves and built Nargothrond.

It was eventful, tiring and worth every minute Finrod spent with his life while his brothers scattered and his sister, Artanis went off to make something of herself on her own.

That day, Fëanor’s two eldest sons had invited him to go on a fun hunt with them. They had hunted for days and didn’t seem to get bored while Finrod was losing enthusiasm for killing prey and was lagging from the group. In the end, none of them had a problem when Maitimo and Makalaurë decided to separate from him so that once again, the oldest of Arafinwë’s son could wander off on his own.

He had remembered his first encounter with the second-born. The light of the fire they had built flaring in the night first caught his attention. Men with beards and a bit shorter than him were sleeping around the campfire and next to the fire, was a harp. Curious and drowned with pure interest, Finrod stood up from his hiding spot in the trees and went over silently to the fire, picked up the harp and played music.

He sang of the intensity of Fëanor and his terrible oath. He sang of the tragic bloodshed at Alqualondë and finally, he hymned the lyrics of the vast lands of the Earth as well as the sun and moon.

Such overwhelming music mortal ears have never heard before, the men and one of them Finrod soon learns to be Bëor woke up, their faces intoxicated by sound and their large eyes glittered with unshed tears.

Finrod remininsced fondly on how cute he thought the second-born were on when he first laid eyes on them. They were so unlike elves in that they were not quite as fair by first-born standards regardless of how shallow the idea might be, they were shorter in stature, their hands were not naturally built to be as prodigiously talented to craft as the eldar were born to be… And most peculiar was that they grew hair on their faces.

Generations passed and there was one distinctive mortal Finrod had always paid attention to and grew to be fond of during his time in Ennor.

Her name was Andreth; daughter of Boromir, a descendant of Bëor.

The elves eventually gave her another name, Saelind, which meant wise-heart for Andreth was as wise and passionate as she was biting of humor.

On their first ever encounter, the little adaneth child was hiding behind her father’s legs when Boromir was gaily introducing his wife and children to Finrod on one of their friendly horse riding trips. His two other offsprings, elder Bregor and youngest Beril were more than happy to show their enthrallment and to befriend the golden elf all save for the middle child.

“Hello there, little one~” The eldest son of Finarfin flashed little Andreth one of his famous, beguiling smiles that charmed many. The little girl looked up at him with her big brown eyes and said nothing. She stared for a few minutes before going back to hiding.

Boromir apologized to Finrod and attempted to prod Andreth out of her ice to no avail. From that day, Andreth seemed to have made it her mission to torture the elf as much as she could. Finrod later learned from Beril that Andreth was jealous of him for taking her papa’s attention constantly ever since the elf arrived to make acquaintance of their family. Finrod had laughed good-naturedly at that and brushed it off calling it one of the many woes of adolescence and growing up. Even so, Andreth’s natural talent for spite could get to alarming straits at time that could even make the elven King of caves and mountains speechless.

One example being during one of their evenings after dinner, the little adaneth had offered to give the Lord Felagund her mother’s delicious tipsy cake for dessert.

“Here you go, lord Finrod,” Her childish voice chirped. “Something nice and fresh for you.”

Finrod blinked, surprised at the sudden courteous gesture from Andreth, he could not hold himself back by refusing. Perhaps the child had decided to make peace and be friends with him after all?

“Why thank you, Andreth.” He took a bite and narrowed his eyes when the little girl scurried away a little too quickly that it looked just a tad bit suspicious. Then Finrod realized his mistake. It was one of the oldest tricks in the books. Fits and fits of coughing followed suit after he swallowed.

Their mother was panicking as she ran out to pat Finrod in the back except the golden elf was laughing to her consternation. “The cake!” He exclaimed still hacking a little. “It’s spicy!”

The face of Boromir’s wife twisted from worry into a furrowed look of annoyance.

“Annndreth!”

They grounded Andreth and assigned her not so nifty chores in the kitchen for a week.

Perhaps it was a change of heart or feelings of guilt but when on one of their horse riding trips, Beril fell off her pony and twisted her ankles, Finrod ended up being the first one to find out sharp as he was and brought the little crying girl in the healing rooms so that he could personally attend to her using one of his many gifts bestowed by Eru.

It wasn’t long before Beril was able to run and laugh again. That afternoon, Finrod heard a knocking on his chamber door. Andreth shuffled in avoiding eye contact but her cheeks had the slightest tint of blush.

“Here. My mum made me pick these strawberries for you,” She mumbled, holding out a basket. “Thank you for saving my lil sister.”

Finrod smiled. He knew that Andreth had picked them herself out of her own free will.

“Let’s see now, would there be any spices in them?” He asked casually picking a berry up. He and Andreth shared a laugh after that incident. The elf and the little mortal girl grew ever closer from that day.

Sometime during Andreth’s years of growing up to become a lovely young woman, Finrod had brought his brothers Angrod and Aegnor to Dorthonion and occupy the lands there. By chance, naturally one of his brothers would soon inevitably meet the mortals that stayed in those lands. Finrod should have known. But the valar always had a plan on their chessboard and there was nothing the children of Eru could do about it but watch it all unfold as their lives were played.

Finrod had knew the moment he saw Andreth by lake Aeluin, bathing, showing the skies herself at her most radiant with another wild blonde emerging from the shadows to her that darkness loomed overhead.

“Aegnor,” The eldest brother spoke as the other elf walked past him taking a bite from an apple.

“Yes brother?” Aegnor asked, his eyebrows raising. Aegnor felt a chill down his back. Had Finrod found out? His older sibling always had a tact for knowing things habitually with his gifts and the younger brother never really could hide anything from him since they were elflings much to Aegnor’s frustrations.

Finrod still leaned easily against the marble table in one of their lodgings, a goblet of wine twirling in one hand.

“War is approaching,” He stated. “You and Angrod had prepared everything?”

Aegnor let out an inaudible sigh of relief.

“Of course. Who do you think I am?” Aegnor huffed, puffing his chest out comically.

“Angrod has taken his troops and they are already half-way to the front lines,” Finrod continued. Aegnor nodded in acknowledgment.

“I am aware.” The two shared a few more words before their talk came to an end.

Before Finrod stepped out the door, he gave his younger brother a backward glance.

“Oh and Aegnor?”

“Yes?”

“You do remember…That she is mortal, yes?” Again was the casual tone. Aegnor jerked his head up at his brother in apprehension but Finrod disappeared. It did not take much convincing for Aegnor to soon reject Andreth as he and his brothers rode off to war never to see her again.

Andreth was left bereft and bewildered. She studied and grew to be a wise-woman but never married.

Finrod would often visit Andreth as she aged. While he was continuously entertained by their stimulating conversations, she would often be repulsed by his insensitivities and possibly him as well as she spared no kind words and he did not sugarcoat as much as before.

“You are utterly antagonizing. You’re impossible,” She often said bluntly as they both sat in front of the warm hearth. Her in her woolen shawl and him windblown and battle weary.

“Aegnor…?” Andreth cried out when he sought her out in one of his visits. His cloak was gritty and disturbingly bloody.

“Nay, lady,” Finrod held on to the withered old woman’s arms for support.

“Did you tell him all that I told you to do so?” She asked impatiently, but there was clear desperation underneath. Finrod’s voice was as bleak as how he was feeling inside.

“Nay, lady for dearest Aegnor with his hair as wild as fire had passed away not too long ago.” His arm tightened as she grew unstable, her eyes widened in erratically in denial and disbelief. His cloaked was soaked thrice that day. Not in blood and dirt but in tears. He had made sure to not let go of her fragile body once as he watched her smaller and grey head buried into his sturdy chest.

Hours passed and Andreth was back in her seat, her body was not properly straight and her face grew even older. Her once vibrant brown eyes looked soulless. She lost the spirit of the moral woman he once knew.

“It’s not right. He was not supposed to go before me…A human. Ha!” Andreth chuckled mirthlessly.

“It was during a time of war, my lady. Perhaps now you have a glimpse as to why he did not take your hand in marriage as you wanted,” Finrod answered carefully. “You are human Andreth, it was never meant to be for the Eru dictates it to be that way, but rest assured because he always makes everything just and fine in the end. Do you believe in Eru, Andreth?”

She looked at him vaguely.

“Eru? The all mighty creator who favors the fair firstborn to the very end? No. I do not let myself believe in any higher being other than what my eyes can see,” She said firmly. Finrod frowned in concerned at what he was hearing.

“But Eru was what born the Valar who in turn worked together to shape Middle Earth. What you said just now was unwise. Saying that he favored the firstborns is folly. Are you not grateful for what you and men have, lady Andreth? Yes, our people are well taught and raised to create exquisite works of art, craftsmanship, music, literature and the such but whatever men is capable of, I foresee a miracle.”

“Well then why did this God of yours not give us an immortal life too?” The mortal woman demanded harshly. “Oh yes, we have much to be grateful for indeed; fate of darkness and death that we cannot change no matter what we do. No. If Eru were to have existed, he would have made us lived forever too. It is only because of Morgoth’s arrival and ongoing presence that has made us mortal instead!”

It was indignance. Finrod rubbed his chin at Andreth’s word in contemplation.

“Your theory is plausible I will say, but I digress. I believe Morgoth have no play in the fate of men, but Eru really do intend for mortals to live a fleeting life because…” He saw Andreth slump back in irritation not facing him. He continued:

“…Because humans are not tied to Ennor the way elves are. We eldar are bound to Middle Earth until it gets destroyed but the humans’ time in Ennor are only temporary. After your passing, there is a bigger destiny for your people beyond the circles of the world that the firstborn can never hope to enter.”

Andreth was silent and there was an uncomfortable pause as she took in his words.

“I am not sitting here for you to know of my resentment towards the mighty creator, lord Finrod. It is not something I would rather dwell on anyway,” She started in hopes of changing the subject and to not showcase her bitterness too well.

“No, you did not,” Finrod nodded in agreement. “Because there is the true cause to your anger after all is there not?”

When she did not answer, the elf’s lips quirked up.

“Have you really no hope then?” His keen ears heard her breath hitched.

“I would have given him everything. I would have thrown everything away to be with Aegnor even if it was a short amount of time. It was the fact that I was human that he rejected me. He scorns the fact that I will age and no longer have any beauty left,” Her eyes glistened and shined again as the droplets rolled down her wrinkled cheeks. “He didn’t need to worry. I would not have forced him to stay with me for him to see me grow old. I would have left since.”

“That is precisely the problem,” Finrod cut in sternly. “For the Eldar, love and bonding is forever. Did you really think that had he taken you, he would simply just leave after your prime? It was war, Andreth and we do not marry and give birth to children during war. As a human, after you die and pass the circles of the world, what does Aegnor have left?”

She sniffled, “And now I am alone and childless…”

“And as a woman and a human at that, there is a limited time for you to be able to bear offsprings. I understand that,” He nodded. “I know you are upset, but it was for the best. Coupling between the firstborn and the secondborn would…”

His eyes glazed out for a second as his gift had interrupted him with three visions.

“Happen only rarely over the course of history and each one for a specific purpose to continue events that have yet come to pass.”

“What are you talking about?” Andreth snapped him out of his musings. Finrod blinked before chuckling. His much larger and youthful hand went to her smaller ones and rubbed it fondly.

“Fear not, adaneth. I sense that Eru can do no wrong. After your kind pass the circles of the world and Arda is destroyed with the eldar along with it, there will be a new universe. It will be Arda Remade. Wait for Aegnor there. Await him…And I.”

He finished promptly and was confident in his words. Finrod’s stormy grey eyes bore into her deep browns as he smiled in that quirky way of his that he knew always peeved her. She stared at him and for a moment, he saw the child turned beautiful woman that he knew. She was and still is which was a taste he oddly acquired during his time knowing the dearest human woman.

“How do you do that?” Andreth shook her head in exasperation. “You always have this knack for agitating me but make me feel…Good at the same time. It is so manipulative and unfair.”

The words were petulant as he had known her to be, but Finrod knew that they were spoke with sincere love and affection for him.

He grinned. “Hasn’t it always been part of my charm and appeal, lady adaneth?”

Before she could retort, he chimed in again.

“You know…” The elf’s face was scrunched up in an unreadable expression as he gazed pensively at Andreth. Her appearance seemed to be getting younger as the seconds grew. Her grey and wily hair had grown out to be the same rich, dark color and surrounding her slender frame.

“Had it been in another life,” His lips looked to be getting closer to her own. “I might have fallen for you as well.”

Andreth stood unmoving as she processed the weight of his words before taking a few steps backwards. She had no expression other than lost at first but then it grew haughty as she huffed.

“And why would I trust the words of a selfish elf who is irritating, condescending, sickeningly sweet, charming, frivolous and probably the true source of having me jilted in my youth in the first place?” She mocked, but her eyes would always shift back to him with a playful light he observed.

He laughed.

“You would be correct. Unfortunately, there is someone waiting for me in Valinor and so naturally, I cannot take you as a lover even if you should wish it. After all this is done, my people will journey back to the West to reunite with ones that had been lost and those we love and cherish.”

Finrod’s lips still curved, but it did not reach his eyes.

“Andreth; I am not only a selfish elf, I am a selfish man. Grant this irritating King one last parting gift, would you?” He tilted his head. Another sniffle; her face finally let itself free and showed a soft yet enchanting smile.

This time, she let one of his strong arm hold her securely by her thin waist while his lips descended upon her hungrily like a starved man.

oOoOoOo

The last time Finrod asked of the most beloved wise-woman, he had been informed she has already passed away.

oOoOoOo

Finrod laid there on the floor while all his limbs were chained gruesomely inside the cave with Beren. The elf was naked, wounded, dirty and left in the most terrible of ways that no one would have recognized he was once a Noldorin prince turned king. Everyone else, his soldiers who had looked up and devoted themselves to him and Beren scattered around, lifeless.

“Your majesty, what do we do now?” The mortal man groaned out. He struggled to move around but was desperate to get back to the love of his life. Beren had a certain proud and spirited demeanor that was so familiar to Finrod that he found it difficult to not tag along and befriend the younger man as he did with his aunt.

Oh, how the house of Bëor would be the death of him, he thought wryly.

And now did he realized that this was among one of the three his visions had told him. He watched the snarling, foul creature that was neither quite dog nor man enter the cave again in search for a meal of its chained prisoners. Beren tensed up and squinted his eyes shut, waiting for the ugliness of his incoming death.

Finrod chuckled mirthlessly. Well if he was always making Andreth angry before, perhaps he could still do something right for her nephew.

Steadily closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath, and inhaled all that he had seen and love of the cruel and beautiful world around him. With taut muscles and a stubborn will, Finrod wrung free of his bonds.

The werewolf had no time to react and the elf took this chance to tackle the creature to the floor, mauling and clawing it with his nails, hands and teeth alone. Beren could only watch in horror and shock.

“Agh!” Finrod coughed out, blood trickling down his lips. The werewolf laid on the floor, growling in a high-pitched and unpleasant voice weakly. It abruptly stopped deathly still. Finrod looked down at his own person as he felt his own body grow cold. With the last of his strength, he slashed the love-stricken mortal man from his own chains and then collapsed back on the rough ground.

“Your majesty…” Beren spoke distraught. He crawled over to Finrod’s dying form.

“What are you doing, young one?” The golden elf’s voice was down to a raspy whisper. “I did not risk my life for you to stay here and mope and sulk.” The human Finrod had grown to love as a son wept bitterly. “This was not how it was supposed to be! No…”

“Beren son of Barahir, you still have a longer life to live and missions to accomplish. I will soon leave Ennor to see my brothers, mother and father again. Find your beloved, stay alert, be appreciative of all who have died for you and live happily.”

The younger man could only nod helplessly.

Finrod let his eyes to rest, but his expression was peaceful. There was no darkness and the light was shimmering.

Are you looking down at me from up there, dearest lady Andreth? He thought languidly.

Angrod and Aegnor were jumping and cheering once they saw him arriving at the sparkling river across from where they resided. Finrod ran towards them and in a corner, he swore he saw the lithe figure of a distinctive mortal woman smiling at him before disappearing from view.

Finrod Felagund, known as Nóm to men and King of the Noldor was glad to be home.

#finrod #andreth #finrod and andreth #athrabeth #aegnor #my fic

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