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I was talking with Lord Finrod Felagund under a large pine when my sister Beril came to me, her breath short.
“Andreth,” she cried, “hurry up! Aunt Meleth is in labour. I’m going to call the midwife, but Mum is already here and she asked for you. Come immediately!”
“I will.” I quickly rose from my seat and threw a glance towards Lord Finrod, who had listened to our exchange without saying a word. “I fear I must interrupt our conversation, my Lord, but my presence is required elsewhere.”
“I understand,” he shrugged. “But, my lady Andreth, may I ask if I can join you? I’ve no wish to disturb your aunt, of course, but I was just wondering if my healing skills may be useful.”
I hesitated a little. Usually, men weren’t allowed in assisting labours, for they were sacred moments, reserved only to the women. But Lord Finrod wasn’t a mere man: he was blood of the blood of Finwë, the great Elven king who came into the West and founded his kingdom in the Blessed Realm of the Valar.
My mother wouldn’t deny him access. Especially not when elven medicine had proven capable of saving lives in the past.
“Very well, my Lord,” I said in the end. “You can come.”
The labour had already begun by the time we came. Aunt Meleth was spread on her bed, her legs parted, her hair disarranged, her face pale. My mother stood beside her, Aunt Meleth’s hands entwined in her own.
“Finally you’ve come,” she said, hastily. “Quick, go in the kitchen and prepare some poppy milk. Meleth is going to need it.”
“Poppy milk is a good idea, my lady,” Lord Finrod said, making a step towards her before she could remark on his presence here. “But may I ask Andreth to bring a basin full of hot water? It’s better to wash our hands before beginning, so that filth won’t remain on our hands.”
My mother hesitated. Lord Finrod’s presence there was unexpected, surely, but I had no doubt that she had come to the same conclusion I had: the skills of an elven lord could only be useful in such a moment. Better not to question him, so.
“Aye, my lord,” she said in the end. “Andreth, poppy milk and a basin full of hot water, as Lord Finrod has said to you.”
I did as she ordered. Shortly after that, my sister Beril came, the midwife at her heels.
Thanks to the Powers, the labour didn’t last long. After a little more than two hours, a screaming infant, a little boy, was wiped clean of blood and put in Aunt Meleth’s arms. The umbilical cord was thrown in the burning fireplace for good luck.
Despite having taken part in the labour, Lord Finrod had no stain on his clothes, nor a hair out of place. It was like common human filth and fatigue could no more touch him than death could touch his kin.
Lord Finrod and I decided to leave my aunt alone with her new baby and went out again, searching for a fountain to refresh ourselves. Not far away we found a little pool under a tall tree that would serve.
“It was an … interesting experience,” said Lord Finrod, placing his long, slender fingers in the cool water. I’d heard he was a skilled warrior, but his hands were untouched, clear of the rough callouses and the signs of battle that marked my father and my brother’s hands.
“Interesting, my Lord?” I asked. I always considered myself enough perceptive to guess other people’s thoughts, but reading Lord Finrod’s thoughts was like reading something written on water.
“Aye.” He moved his head, and his golden hair shone under the sun. I’d seen people with fair hair before, especially when I visited Adanel’s kin, but their hair looked like straw compared to the golden silk of Lord Finrod’s hair, which he usually wore braided. “I assisted at my mother’s labours, when I was old enough to help, but I never assisted at the labour of a mortal woman. I am glad to have helped your aunt, though.”
“And I can say with certainty that she is glad that you helped her,” I said to him. “It was an easy labour, and exceptionally quick, and both the baby and the mother survived. There are few labours that are so quick and so easily done.”
He looked towards me, and even if I couldn’t read his emotions, I could see that his brow was furrowed. “So it’s true, what they told me? That mortal women often die in childbirth?”
If his visage wasn’t the usual calm mask, I might have thought him shaken by such an thought. What a silly thing, the idea that a creature so wise and noble, who had been alive long before the Sun ever rose in the sky, could be upset by such a commonplace fact like that women happened to die in childbirth!
But such was the nature of the Eldar. They weren’t like us, touched by death and disease. They didn’t fight against death every day of their lives.
“It’s true, my lord,” I merely replied. “We will never know, but it’s possible that you have saved my aunt’s life with your knowledge.”
For a while we didn’t talk, and I used the pause to wash my hands and remove my stained apron. I dropped some water on my hair, to clean it as best I could after being soaked in sweat.
I was trying to remove the spots from my apron in the water of the pool when Lord Finrod spoke again: “Among my kin, only one woman has ever died in childbirth. We don’t talk about her, to tell the truth, for it was a dark moment of our history that led us to even darker moments, moments we prefer to forsake. Many of us believe that if she never conceived her son, we would have never come to these lands. We call her Fíriel, the Lady Who Died.”
“Only one woman? That’s incredible for us, my lord.” I told him that the mother of one of my closest friends had died last winter in childbirth, when she had fallen ill after a long, troublesome labour.
“Then I am even happier to share my knowledge with you.” He smiled at me, an ancient smile full of too many emotions for me to guess them easily. “Anything, if it could help to save lives.”
I merely nodded. How much Men and Elves differ! We were both the Children of Eru, they said, but we were no more similar to the Elves than dogs to wolves.
I sighed, and, as if my thoughts suddenly evoked him, the familiar shape of a knight appeared in the middle of the road. My heart jumped as I saw the light of the sun shining on the golden cloth of his cloak and on his golden hair.
Aegnor of the House of Finarfin, brother of Lord Finrod, came closer to us and dismounted from his horse, allowing the beast to drink from the pool. He noticed me and his brother, and smiled at us.
My traitorous heart jumped again, and I remembered that my hair was still dishevelled and wet from the pool’s water, and even if I’d managed to clean my hands and arms and hung my stained apron from a pine branch, I was still wearing my work clothes, all crinkled and mended, and still in a wretched condition after assisting at the labour.
I was so different from him, so different from the Elven maidens he surely knew. I’d seen some of them in Finrod’s entourage, and they were so unlike me, with their silky hair and their flawless skin.
And still, Lord Aegnor managed to smile at me, and made a little bow in front of me, all gestures that melted my heart for a moment: “Brother, Lady Andreth, it’s a pleasure to see you.”
“Good afternoon, brother,” Finrod replied. I merely smiled, desperately trying to restrain myself from blushing at the mere sight of him. Three months had passed since the equinox’s night, and I still couldn’t look him straight in the face without thinking of what happened between us that evening. Even if it still brought me too much embarrassment.
Aegnor was stunning, taller than most of the men I knew, with the astounding beauty of the Eldar and fair hair that, unlike his brother’s, was curly and moved around his face like golden waves.
The same face that followed me in my dreams, making my nights a torment and a delight at the same time.
No matter what happened between us, what kind of hope did I have that he could fall in love with me? I was nothing but a child to him. I’d just turned eighteen years old that spring, and he was older than the sun and the moon. He had walked in the green fields of Valinor during the Age of the Stars, when the world was still young.
“I hope I have not bothered you,” said Aegnor, and his eyes met mine for a moment.
“Oh, no!” I finally managed to reply. “Quite the contrary! We had just finished assisting my aunt Meleth, who was in labour.”
“I hope she is well,” Aegnor said, and gave a pat to his horse’s flank.
“She is,” I said. “I’m so grateful to Lord Finrod for that.”
Lord Finrod laughed. “I already told you it was a pleasure for me. No need for being grateful. Really! I’m happy to help your people.”
Aegnor’s grey-blue eyes met mine, and I felt as if a thousand butterflies had just begun to fly in my stomach. I smiled to him once again.
“I’m glad that everything went fine,” he said. “But after such an ordeal, will you be glad to take a walk with me, Lady Andreth?”
I was so shocked that I could do nothing but stare at his perfect face, saying nothing for long, painful moments.
Was he truly talking thus? Even after what had happened between us, did he still long for my company? This had to be a dream, not real life under the sun.
“Yes,” I finally managed to murmur. “Yes, it would be a pleasure, my Lord.”
He laughed – a long, heartfelt laugh. “Very well. I’m sorry, my brother, but I must leave you alone now. I’m going to enjoy the company of Lady Andreth.”
Finrod raised an eyebrow, but merely replied: “Farewell, my friends. Have fun, then!”
Even after having spent so much time with the two Elven princes, it was still strange to me how they reacted differently from the people of my village, who would surely have considered scandalous a young woman wandering alone in the woods with a man who wasn’t her relative or her betrothed. But neither had Lord Finrod showed any concern for such matters when we talked alone about the lore of our people, nor Aegnor, when we walked together in the woods. Maybe some people in the village talked about it, aye. But it would be ill-mannered to refuse the company of the Elven princes that had done so much for us and our ancestors, so nobody had dared to say anything about my habit of talking alone with the sons of Finarfin.
And even if they did, well, when it came to Lord Aegnor, I was beyond care.
Aegnor extended his hand to, and before I could even think about that, I felt myself lifted by his strong arms and deposited on the saddle of his horse. I realized I had been holding my breath only when I was firmly sat on the back of the horse, and gasped for air.
In the name of the Powers, what would my father and my mother say of me, had they known of such thoughts?
The world had never known love between an Elf and a Man, never in all the ages of Arda. What would it make of me?
But such thoughts were easily chased from my mind when Aegnor grabbed his horse’s saddlehorn and mounted just in front of me. He laughed again, and said: “Feel free to hold onto me, my lady!”
I was glad he couldn’t see me, because my face was as red as one of the apples of the harvest festival. I circled his waist with my arms, feeling the heat of his body despite the thick layers of clothes, and I took a deep breath in a desperate attempt to chase away my embarrassment. I was acting like a thirteen-year-old maiden at her first infatuation, and I hated it.
“Farewell, brother!” Aegnor said, waving his hand. “I’m going to return before the twilight!”
Oh, that will be better, I thought. My family would worry if they found me missing at that hour.
Aegnor urged the horse into a trot, and I grabbed his waist more tightly as the horse’s back began to fall and rise in the rhythm of the gait. I had ridden horses many times, but I wasn’t used to the swift horses of the Elves, and when the steed began to gallop, I found myself breathless as we flew along the streets of the village and then into the open fields. I laughed as a branch almost touched my head.
We stopped in a little clearing where the light of the sun looked almost green, passing between the branches. Aegnor helped me to dismount from the horse, and once again, finding myself in his arms, my heart fluttered, and the sudden desire to plunge my hands into that golden, fluffy hair, just to feel how it would be to touch, became almost unbearable.
He set me down on the ground and secured the horse to a tree. I merely watched him, his fair hair that fell on his blue mantle like a cascade of gold, the feline agility with which his body moved, so tall and strong and at the same time so lithe. No animal I had ever seen moved in such way: he looked like one of the lions that lived in far Aman, whose shapes I knew only thanks to the books that Lord Finrod had given to me.
We sat near each other on a fallen trunk, and I finally asked him: “Why have you brought me here?”
He took a deep breath, and I found myself staring into those blue-grey eyes that haunted my nights as well as my days: “I need to talk with you about some important matters, Andreth. Now.”
He always called me Andreth when we were alone, far away from indiscreet ears. I could do nothing but smile to him, as I had done that equinox evening.
“Very well,” I said, and stretched my hands to touch his own. It was the barest of contacts, but my skin prickled as our fingers met.
“Well indeed.” He smiled at me and took a deep breath. “Andreth, do you remember that night, at the equinox festival? Do you remember what … happened?”
As if I could forget it. My face heated, as if I’d come too near the fire.
I’d blamed myself and my stupidity for a long time, after that night. I’d blamed my carelessness, and I’d thanked the Powers that nobody but Aegnor knew about what had happened, for I could have so easily shamed myself.
I had drunk too much apple wine, and I’d handed a lot of glasses to Aegnor, too. One thing led to another, and we had found ourselves kissing each other, hidden in the dark, far away from the fires of the festival, where everyone could see us.
It had been a mere kiss, aye, but it had been a long one. I still remembered Aegnor’s hands around my waist, and the texture of his silky hair under my fingers. I remembered how soft his lips were and the sweet taste of apple wine on them.
“I remember it.” I avoided his gaze, now. “I … I’m sorry, Aegnor. It was a mistake on my part.”
“No!” He bent towards me, so that I could no longer avoid him. “Andreth, if you think you have any fault in this, well, my fault is greater. It was I who drank too much wine. It was I who let this happen. I should have been more careful. What if we …” He moved his head, as if to chase away a thought. “I’m sorry for what happened. It was careless, and quite stupid on my part. I should have known better. I should have been better than some headless boy who gets drunk too easily at parties.”
Aye, I thought. But I’m a maiden, and even if I’ve always thought myself a wise one, I too got drunk too easily at one party.
What should I say to him? That I’d dreamed every day of that kiss since that night three months ago? That I thought that I’d fallen in love with him, even if I knew such love could hardly be reciprocated at all?
“Maybe you were,” I said. “But it was I who led you among the branches, Aegnor. Let’s not forget it.”
He gave me a sad smile, and I wondered if he had let other girls lead him among the branches, to kiss him under the starry sky. What I was to him, after all? A maiden of few winters, so young and so naive in front of him, who had seen the Moon and the Sun rise?
I was like a moth attracted by fire. Coming too close to the flame would risk setting myself on fire, but oh, if the temptation wasn’t strong.
“Aye,” he said. “But this … this has not been fair to you, Andreth.”
“Not fair?” I moved my head. “Aegnor, you’ve no idea how much I wanted it. How much I’ve dreamed about it. And you say to me that’s not fair!”
Maybe I was being unwise. After all, what you desire and what you need are two different things. But my very soul and body longed for Aegnor, for his touch on my skin, on my hair.
He looked at me, and it was like he was so far away from me, like we were standing on the two opposite sides of a cliff. We were so close, and still so far.
Could a moth love a flame?
“Andreth, I…” he took a deep breath. “Do you think that I didn’t enjoy it? Do you think I don’t like the idea of your lips on mine? I did. But that’s not fair. I’ve come here to apologise to you, and promise to you that this won’t happen again in the future.”
“How you could apologise?” I said, before I could even think about I was saying. “When it was me who started everything?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t understand, Andreth.”
“No, I understand too well.” I bent towards him. “Do you think I’m some child that needs to be lectured? Do you think I’m not able to make my own choices? You’re one of the Eldar, aye, but adaneth I am, and we grow up fast, maybe, but we’re capable of making our own decisions.”
“Maybe too fast.” He moved his head. “Andreth, I don’t think you’re a child. I could never think you’re a child.”
“Then don’t treat me like one!” I realized I’d raised my voice, and took a breath in the attempt of calming myself. “Don’t treat me as if I’m a fool incapable of making my choices.”
“Andreth …” Our eyes met, once again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I know … ah, I know too well you’re a beautiful, fierce, brave woman. And that’s exactly the problem. I see what you are, I see the fire that burns inside of you, but … But my feelings matter nothing, not when we can’t change what we are. What kind of future could we have, Andreth, my dear adaneth?”
“I know what you are going to say. Yes, I know that I’m a mortal woman, and that you are an elven prince. Still, I can’t … I can’t help myself. Say what you wish, but I’m in love with you, Aegnor. Maybe it’s just the love of a young, foolish girl, but it’s my love, and I happily give it to you.”
Aegnor moved his head. “Maybe you’ll change your mind, Andreth. Maybe you’ll fall in love with someone else, and will be happy with him.”
“Perhaps,” I replied, and I was surprised of how my voice managed to sound cold, despite the storm of emotions inside my head. “Or perhaps not.”
He gave a half smile. “You’re such a stubborn girl, Andreth,” he sighed. “And I’m such a fool, for I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with you. But I don’t wish to bring any unhappiness on you, Andreth.”
“Then I’m an even bigger fool,” I whispered. “Because I fully know that this isn’t right, because I know that it is forbidden, and still, I love you too, Aegnor. Denying it won’t change that fact.”
“So it is,” he sighed. “I can’t deny it either, but … I would do anything, anything, to spare you any suffering. You deserve to be happy.”
“I’m happy enough,” I murmured. “When I’m with you.”
Adaneth I am. I knew what I was doing. I knew that one day I would get old, and my long dark hair would turn white, my body would turn frail and withered. I knew that one day Aegnor would see me like that, while he remained young and fair and strong. And I knew that maybe one day my heart would be broken, looking at him, full knowing how much I’d changed. Would our love survive that? Would we be strong enough?
I didn’t know. I only knew that Aegnor was right beside me, and it was the summer of my eighteenth year, and my love burned like a flame. One day I would perhaps rethink my choices, but not now, not at such a moment.
“I, too,” he finally smiled, and took my hand in his own. He placed a little kiss on my knuckles, and I felt myself blushing once again. “We should return,” he whispered against my fingers.
“Not now,” I replied. “The sunset is still hours away. Let’s stay here for a while longer. We haven’t had the occasion to spend any time together since that festival.”
I rose from my seat, still holding his hand. “Come,” I said to him, and his smile deepened.
I lost sense of time, as we walked into the deep of the woods, our hands entwined, laughing together as we looked at the flowers and at the butterflies all around us. I almost didn’t notice that sunset had come, and that the shadows were slowly surrounding us, until I noticed a firefly passing near to us.
“Look!” I laughed. “Did you have something similar, in the Blessed Realm?”
“Aye.” Aegnor passed an arm around my shoulders, and I found myself pressed against his chest, his skin hot against my own, across his clothes. “We have a lot of them in Aman. My mother used to tell me a legend about how they were created when Varda, while she was kindling the stars, let some drops of starlight fall on Yavanna’s insects, creating the fireflies we see. That’s why they shine in the night.”
Another firefly passed, then another, and another, until the woods all around us were filled with the light of the little creatures, like they were little stars that had fallen from the sky to light up the darkness all around us.
I knew that I should return home. I knew that my parents would interrogate me about where I spent my whole afternoon, and why I had spent it, and part of the evening, with the brother of the King of the Elves. I knew that this was as impulsive and reckless an act as standing on my tiptoes and kissing him in the shadows of the trees had been.
We were a mortal woman and an elven prince, after all. What future could we have together? Would I one day keep his children in my womb, would he one day be my husband and share my bed? Would I wake every morning and seeing his golden hair spread near to me on the pillow, would I taste his mouth for all the days and the nights in my life?
I didn’t know it for certain. But in that moment, our bodies near, our hands entwined, our eyes lost in the spectacle of the shining fireflies against the dark of the evening, I could almost believe that yes, it would be so, and nobody could separate us until the very end of Arda.