Work Text:
High's the fee
Soon my spirit will return
Welcome dawn
Your light will take me home.
(The Eldar, Blind Guardian)
Darkness.
Only darkness around you. Darkness, and pain, and fear. The heat of blood, and the air that keeps escaping from your lungs.
You will die here.
You never imagined it would be in darkness as deep as the one that imprisoned Aman that day, that claimed your grandfather's blood and destroyed the life you had had up to that point. You didn't think you would be in chains, after the centuries you spent reigning in your hidden halls.
Until recently, you did not even believe that one day you would die.
But you knew what you were getting into when you chose to honor your promise. You hope that, whatever fate Mandos has given to his spirit, Barahir knows that you have paid your debt.
The wolf's blood between your lips, the sound of Beren's tears falling, is proof that at least this time you haven't failed.
He has to live. He must go back to Tinúviel, and be happy. However short the time he has left, the love that animates him will not have been in vain.
Saelind proved it to you. You know Lúthien will not make the same mistake as your brother.
The same mistake you made by leaving Amarië behind.
If you could see her one last time, feel her warmth again, the darkness would be less suffocating. If she were here and sang to you once more, as in the days when true light still existed, the pain of these last moments would vanish.
But you know the fate of the exiles - and you thought you could accept it. For those like you there is no hope of returning. The only song to take possession of your mind will be that of Moringotto's servant [1].
And only regrets will accompany your farewell.
Your kingdom is not safe. There will be families who will mourn the bodies torn apart that lie around you. Your sister will be left alone, and you won't even be able to see her again.
But your last act wasn't a mistake - and perhaps Mandos's hallss won't be so dark.
...
The light is still blinding.
After the darkness of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, after the dusk of Mandos, the glow of Aman is almost painful. You know all too well that when you get used to it, it will seem too dim compared to the one who still dominates your happiest memories.
But at least you are alive. It is a privilege that too many have not been granted.
Breathing sometimes seems impossible - your body seems to have not yet learned to do it all the time. But the sensation of the air coming in and out of you is sweet, and you didn't realize how much you missed it as you wandered through Mandos, trying to forget the moment when only blood replaced your breath.
The blood that now flows protected in your veins, no longer scattered on the icy stones, to stain the mantle of a wolf, as it went away leaving you only the cold and the pain ...
Being healed didn't allow you to forget it. Not entirely.
But at least you are here, in the place that none of you should have left. Many others still dwell in the shadows of death.
Beren is long gone, and even though you always knew it was inevitable, the desire to see him again sometimes comes back. Nimloth has told you about his fate, and that of his bride.
At least your death did something.
Aikanáro [2] is still chained to the regrets his farewell to Andreth left him. Even having the chance, Angaráto [3] will not leave without Artaresto [4]. When you left him, Turukáno[5] still had the pain of betrayal in his eyes.
There are times when you regret being here without them. But you must be grateful to the Valar. They gave you back the light.
The light of Tirion, bathed in a peace that centuries spent in Endórë[6] had almost made you forget. The light of Vása, enough to warm you when the chill of your last prison still penetrates your bones.
Sometimes you feel wounds on your body that are no longer there, and Mairon's song resounds in your head, slimy and suffocating as mud, bringing with itself visions of destruction and pain. Sometimes you believe that all this is just an illusion that he weaves, and that the darkness will soon return to annihilate you.
But the light is too bright to be his doing - the light of the reflection of the sun in your mother's tears the moment you embraced her, the same that animates the waves of the now clear waters of Alqualondë, the light trapped in the eyes of your father when you saw him again, the light of Amarië's smile as she clutched to her chest a ring forged once more.
At least to see them again, coming home was not a mistake.
Those you left behind are back by your side. They guide your steps when your body seems to have forgotten how to walk and when the world becomes too different from your memories, they calm your anguish when the centuries spent on the other side of the sea fall into your dreams. Slowly, surrounded by what's left of your family, you will learn to live again.
And the darkness will perhaps go away from your mind.