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Amarië could not remember a time of more joy than when she reunited with Finrod. 

His departure had hurt her deeply, and the uncertainty of his well-being had ever been in the back of her mind. Who knew what dangers lurked in the Hither Shores, where the Dark Lord dwelled? Would Finrod and his gentle spirit endure, or would he be corrupted and grow cruel? 

Amarië, for the life of her, could not reconcile Finrod and cruelty. The Elf's fëa was alight with love and compassion - cruelty had no place in him. He was nothing like his Fëanorian cousins, and whatever evil deed Finrod might have done must have served as defence of the vulnerable. 

Thus, here she was, waiting with his parents in the gardens of Lórien. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she squashed her impatience. At last, a Maia stepped forth from between the trees and beside him walked a familiar Elf dressed in a simple robe. A blinding smile was on his face, and his beauty robbed her of her breath, as it had done ages ago.

The Maia stayed behind and Eärwen sobbed when Finrod came to a halt in front of them. She took his hands in her trembling ones. 

“Welcome home, my son. Welcome home.”

“Mother”, Finrod said and hugged her. Eärwen froze in surprise, and both Finarfin and Amarië looked astonished. Finrod then hugged his father, who seemed overwhelmed, not knowing what he was supposed to do. Amairë fared no better when he wrapped his arms around her.  

“What was that?”, she asked, once Finrod pulled back and he laughed brightly.

“A hug. Something I learned from the Men in Beleriand. They express their joy and affection this way. Humans are incredibly tactile.”

“Is that so?”, Finarfin asked, voice hoarse with emotion, and wrapped his arms tightly around his son. How it had pained him that no child of his had followed him back to Valinor!  He had been almost ashamed to reunite with Eärwen. 

“The children, where are the children?”, Eärwen asked, her hands wringing the trumpet sleeve of her dress anxiously. Finarfin lowered his eyes, his heart breaking in his chest.

“They chose to continue their journey.”, he quietly said and Eärwen burst into tears.

“They are lost.”, she sobbed. Finarfin pressed his forehead against his wife's, their tears dripping onto the castle floor.

Finrod smiled when his mother’s arms wrapped around him from behind, though he feared for his breath at their tight grip. 

“Mother, father, I just returned from Mandos. Please do not send me back so quickly.”, he wheezed and his parents hastily let go of him. 

“Is there anything you need?”, Eärwen asked and Finrod smiled sheepishly.

“I would love to eat something. I am starving.”

Quickly, the four made their way back to Tirion, Finrod delighting in the sight of the city he was born in. Those who remembered him cheered and he waved at them. Amarië’s heart felt full to the bursting and she smiled tearfully when Finrod gifted her another of his bright smiles. Finrod's cheeks were marked with his tears, overwhelmed by the emotions wreaking havoc in his body after his brief spiritual existence in Mandos.

Finarfin immediately ordered Finrod’s favourite meal to be prepared. It was delicious, just as Finrod remembered. At his parent’s request, he told them what he knew about his siblings. It pained him deeply that all of his brothers had joined him in Mandos, alongside all of his cousins. Only Artanis, or Galadriel, as she was known now, was still alive and lived with her husband Celeborn, but what has become of her Finrod did not know. 

His parents wept bitterly at the fate of their children, but held hope that they might be reborn as Finrod had been. Finrod's breath caught in his throat, for he knew that one of his brothers would never return: Aegnor, who did not want to live in a world without Andreth. Finrod wondered if Aegnor was still weeping at the gates to Iluvatar, where the Men's souls went to rest.

Having never met Men, Finarfin and Eärwen did not know how to react to the news that Aegnor had fallen in love with the mortal woman Andreth, though they had never married due to war. Finrod felt sick knowing he was another reason why Aegnor had not pursued Andreth, and he felt sick with guilt. How was he supposed to confess that Aegnor was possibly forever lost? 

All of a sudden, his vision blurred. Orange eyes surrounded by long black lashes flashed before his inner eye and the fork clattered onto the plate. For a brief moment, he thought he could smell wild berry and smoke, a perfume which seemed achingly familiar. 

“Findaráto? Is everything alright?”, Finarfin asked worriedly, and Finrod blinked.

“Yes. Forgive me.”, Finrod said and rose from his seat. “I’m no longer hungry, I- please excuse me.”

“Findaráto?”, Amarië asked and reached for him, but he fled. 

At Eärwen’s urging, she followed him and after some searching, she found him in the castle gardens. Finrod was sitting on one of the stone benches near a fountain depicting Ulmo. A faraway expression was on his fair face. Hesitantly, Amarië stepped closer.

“Is everything alright?”

Finrod flinched at her sudden presence. His eyes snapped to her and he smiled weakly. 

“Yes. It was just an unexpected memory. Or rather a fragment of it… ”, he said. Uncertain of what she was supposed to do, Amarië sat down next to him, folding her hands in her lap. 

“I hope you will enjoy your life here once again.”, she quietly said and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. 

By the Valar, he was as handsome as she remembered him. Yet there was a melancholy about him, one she would attempt to chase away if he let her. The darkness of the Hither Shores should not haunt him in the blessed lands of Valinor. 

“Perhaps. We shall see.”, Finrod said, and that was all he said for a long time. They sat in silence, but it was one of familiar companionship rather than awkwardness. When evening fell, Amarië bid the royal family her farewell and went home. Already, her parents were waiting for her. 

“We heard Prince Findaráto was released from Mandos.”, her father said in lieu of a greeting.

“That is true.”

“Then you know what you must do. The time apart and death will have cooled his emotions, but you must rekindle the coals of affection you have shared before the Darkness. He will need someone to offer comfort.”, her mother said and Amarië sighed.

“He has just returned. Please give him some time to adjust to life.”

“Certainly, but do not wait too long.”, her father said. 

Amarië excused herself to her room and blushed. It had been so long, would she still know what to do? 

Meanwhile, Finrod had also retreated to his rooms, claiming he felt exhausted and wished to retire early. His parents had not questioned him and had wished him sweet dreams. Eärwen had kissed his brow before he had gone to his room. 

Finrod's room was unchanged. Memories of a different life flashed through his mind. Finrod took it all in, slowly and carefully. His memories of Valinor differed from those of Beleriand. Where the memories of his childhood and life in Tirion were filled with warmth and life, those of Beleriand seemed almost muted. Finrod could not decide whether it was a blessing of the Valar for a new life, or a curse which made his experiences seem…invalid, worthless. 

Finrod changed into his nightclothes and walked up to his bed and fell onto the mattress, facing the ceiling. He felt tired, yet thrummed with energy at the same time. 

Her lips, painted black, were soft against his own and tasted of wine and fruit pastry. Orange eyes, framed with dark lashes, looked down at him while inky locks tickled his neck. The smell of wild berry and smoke tickled his nose, and Finrod inhaled deeply. The swell of a bosom was pressed against his shoulder. Birds were chirping in the trees and Finrod drowned under her soft lips once more. 

His heart clenched in his chest and Finrod shot up. His heart was racing in his chest and the phantom taste of her lips rested on his. Slamming the door open, he ran through the corridors like a madman, pushing aside servants and anyone in his way. Exclaims of surprise followed him and his parents were most likely being notified, but Finrod did not slow down to explain.

I know you, he thought, I know you, yet I cannot remember you. But even though his consciousness did not remember, his subconscious did. His heart burned with longing, and his arms ached with the need to hold this woman in his arms. Why do I not remember her name? Her looks? Why was she taken from me, when my other memories of Beleriand are intact?

Somehow, Finrod made his way to the stables, saddled a horse and left. Elves shouted when he raced through the streets of Tirion, clad in nothing but his night tunic and breeches.

When at last he smelled the sea, Finrod jumped from his horse and ran into the water until it reached his knees. When the cold water reached the sensitive skin of his thighs, he stopped, his chest heaving. What was he doing? He could not swim to Beleriand. 

A whinny caught Finrod's attention. His horse was panting and sweating and Finrod slowly  waded back to the shore and gently patted its neck.

“Forgive me. I was too hard on you. I will lead you to Alqualondë, which is not far. There, you can eat and drink.” 

He grabbed the reins and led his horse along the beach. His cold clothes uncomfortably stuck to his clothes. Not much later, Alqualondë appeared in the distance, and a figure which walked towards them. Both elves stopped.

“Findarato.”, Olwë breathed, disbelief colouring his voice and face.

“Grandfather.”, Finrod said, surprised his grandfather had not given up on his habit of daily walks along the beach at a late hour.

“I - How long have you been walking among the living?”

“I returned today, or yesterday. I do not know what time it is. Grandfather, I beg you, give me a ship!”, Finrod begged and grabbed Olwë's arms. The Teleri king was confused. 

“A ship? Whyever are you in need of one?”

“I must return to the Hither Shores. Please, grandfather.”, Finrod begged, clutching the lapels of his tunic and Olwë looked at his grandson in pity. 

“I will not give you a ship, not while you are not sound of mind. Come, eat, drink and sleep. You must calm yourself.”

“I cannot. I need a ship. I must look for someone.”, Finrod wept, but did not resist when Olwë gently led him to Alqualondë. 

*

Eärwen was relieved when she received a letter the next day. Quickly, she sought her husband. 

“Findaráto is in Alqualondë. My father found him at the beach.”

“Thank the Valar he is safe.”, Finarfin sighed, but he noticed his wife wanted to say more. “What is it?”

“Father says Findaráto asked for a ship. He wants to cross the sea…” 

“What? Why would he want to return to that place?”, Finarfin asked and grabbed his wife's hands. “Why would he want to leave Valinor, after everything he told us?”

“He just said he must look for someone.”, Eärwen said, her face sorrowful. “Is he longing for his friends? Do you think he has a spouse across the sea? Or children?” 

“He said no such thing.”, Finarfin argued, but could not offer a different explanation. 

Why else would Finrod want to leave? And why had he not told them of this possible family of his, if it existed?

Quickly, it was decided that Eärwen would travel to Alqualondë with Amarië by her side. The latter was sick with worry ever since she had been summoned to the palace and informed of Finrod's whereabouts. But on top of that, her mind was reeling with the information about this mysterious someone who could be the reason behind Finrod’s frenzy.

She hoped it was no spouse or lover. Amarië did not know whether that made her a horrible Elf. On one hand, she did not want to think of Finrod having been without a partner because Amarië had stayed behind, on the other hand, if he had a spouse, it would mean Finrod had never loved Amarië. It would mean her love for him was wasted.

Valar, how has it become so complicated overnight? 

While Eärwen and Amarië were on their way to Alqualondë, Finrod was still fast asleep. When he woke, he could not remember his dreams, but he was left with longing and love battling in his heart. 

It took him a moment to gather his wits. A hröa once again housed his fëa. The Halls of Mandos were no longer his home, but he was not in Tirion. The pearls and swan motifs on his room's walls quickly brought back memories of last night. 

His abrupt departure from Tirion. The clothes, cold and wet with sea water, sticking to his skin. His grandfather leading him to Alqualondë. 

Finrod closed his eyes again and exhaled deeply. Not even a full day of his new life had passed when these orange eyes brought unforeseen tumult into it. Finrod hoped that his missing memories would return soon, and that he could put a name to the fragments of the woman in his dreams. 

He sat up when someone knocked faintly. Olwe peeked into the room, smiling when he found his grandson awake. 

“How are you feeling? I hope you are faring better than when I found you last night.”

“It cannot be compared. Thank you, grandfather, for bringing me here. I apologise for any inconvenience.”, Finrod said, but Olwë waved his apologies away. 

“You are my grandson, and my doors will always welcome you.”

The Teleri king sat down next to Finrod and gently cradled his face between his hands. 

“Valar, when I saw you last night, I thought myself dreaming. I wondered if I had fallen asleep during my walk, but you have returned to us. You are home.”

“I have returned, indeed. Time does not pass in the Halls, but I could tell my stay was brief.”

“I am glad. But you seem troubled, Findaráto. What could possibly weigh on your mind so soon after your reembodiment?”

“A woman”, Finrod said, “I cannot remember her name, nor her appearance, but she leaves me with an unbearable longing.”

“You did mention someone on the Hither Shore. That was why you asked me for a ship.”

“I do not think you would give me one now?”

“No, I am sorry. We have no news of the Hither Shores, and this is your second day only. Stay a little longer. See if your memories of her will return. Perhaps the Valar would be willing to help, should that not be the case. Then, we will see.” 

Finrod bowed his head in acceptance. He could see the wisdom in his grandfather's words. 

“Come, you should eat something. Lunch will be ready soon. I received word that your mother and your friend Amarië are on their way here.”

“I must have terrified them horribly!”, Finrod exclaimed and shot to his feet. Olwë followed suit, albeit at a slower pace. 

“They will understand. Dress yourself and come downstairs. You know the way to the dining hall.”

Eärwen and Amarië arrived a few hours after lunch. The horses of Valinor were swift, indeed. Olwë greeted them in the entrance hall. 

“Thank the Valar that you found him, father.”, Eärwen said and clasped his hands tightly. 

“It is good to see you too, daughter. Welcome, Lady Amarië. It is good you came as well.”

Amarië curtsied. 

“Your Highness. Findaráto's wellbeing is important to me.”

“Where is Finrod?”, Eärwen asked, and Olwë's eyes snapped back to her.

“I am here, mother.” 

Relief washed over Eärwen and Amarië when they saw Finrod approach the three. Amarië ran towards him, her fair face worried. 

“Findaráto, are you alright?”, she asked and he smiled gently. 

“I am. Forgive me for worrying you.”, he said and kissed the back of her hand in apology. Even though this has always been Finrod's habit, it made her heart flutter in her chest and Amarië hoped her face was not as red as it felt hot. 

“You as well, mother. I am sorry for worrying you and father.”, Finrod said after turning his attention to his mother, and bowed his head. Eärwen shook her head and walked up to him. Gently, she kissed his brow.

“I am just glad you are well now.”

“Perhaps we should move the conversation to my study. It will be more comfortable than standing in the entrance hall.”, Olwë said. 

Tea and pastries were served, and Finrod informed his mother that he would stay a little longer in Alqualondë. Eärwen was sad to hear that, since she had to return to Tirion tomorrow, but Finrod's needs were the priority. 

Amarië would also stay behind. Eärwen thought it a good idea for Finrod to have a friend by his side, and the relationship between Amarië and her son had been strong and intimate before the Darkness. 

She was not oblivious to Amarië’s affection for Finrod, and knew that Finrod had been fond of her as well and seemed to have been on the brink of falling in love with her as well. But when the Darkness fell over Valinor and the Two Trees had been lost, they were torn apart. 

If both were to find their happiness in each other, why should Eärwen not support them? Finrod had been reembodied, he lived a new life now - certainly the Valar would not be so cruel and keep the bond between him and that someone across the sea alive? 

Certainly, Finrod deserved a new beginning?

One Elf disagreed with Amarië’s stay, however: Olwë. He too knew of Finrod's and Amarië’s old relationship - a friendship having bordered on romance, and Tirion and even Alquqlondë had been alight with rumours about a potential union between them. 

Were he ignorant of the woman across the sea, he would have welcomed Amarië with open arms. But considering the situation as it was, Olwë only saw heartache. 

Finrod's heart was not as it once was, and it was in the possession of someone on the other side of the sea. 

Olwë wondered why Finrod had not revealed the women to his family. 

“May I speak with Findaráto for a moment?”

Eärwen and Amarië seemed caught off-guard, but Eärwen quickly regained her composure. 

“Of course, father.” 

The two women left the study to wait in front of the door. Amarië glanced over her shoulder, but Finrod seemed none the wiser about what awaited him. 

Once the door was shut, Olwë got to the point.

“They do not know about the woman.”

“...No, they do not. I never had the chance to tell them yesterday. The first fragment came so quickly and I was too caught up in figuring out what was going on.”

“You should tell them, especially Amarië.”

Ashamed, Finrod averted his eyes. Olwë continued.

“I do not blame you if you were blind until now. I cannot speak from experience, but I imagine that being reembodied is stressful. But now you know. If Amarië is to stay, you must tell her of the woman. Do not let her fight a battle she cannot win.”

“I do not want to hurt her.”, Finrod whispered. “We love only once, I do not want her to hurt forever if she loves me.”

“But you would hurt her even more if you do nothing. Is the woman an Elf?”

“No.”

“She will never come to Valinor?”

“No.”, Finrod rasped, tears running down his cheeks. “I do not remember much, but she will not sail. She cannot.” 

Olwë rose from his seat to sit down next to Finrod. With his sleeve, he dried his grandson's teats. 

“You have a gentle heart”, Olwë softly said, “and that is a priceless gift. But do not trap yourself because you are afraid of hurting someone else. It is never an easy task, being truthful to someone and thus breaking their heart, but this is something that must be done. For both of your sake.” 

“I know.”, Finrod confessed. “I shall tell Amarië during her stay.”

Olwe nodded gratefully. 

Outside Olwë's study, Amarië was playing with the hem of her sleeve. Eärwen seemed just as bemused as she was, and thus she swallowed her questions. If Amarië were to press her ear against the door, she was confident she could hear what the two men were talking about. Though, she stayed where she was, as dropping eaves was rude and would severely damage Olwë's and Finrod's trust in her. Perhaps patience would reward her. 

The door to the study opened, and Finrod motioned them to enter. However, neither Olwë nor Finrod addressed the topic of their discussions. Olwë informed Amarië that she was welcome to stay for a few days, but that Finrod should spend a few days on his own as well. What choice did Amarië have but to agree? 

Throughout the day, her eyes repeatedly flickered to Finrod. He seemed absent-minded, and she could spot the small furrow of his brow. It was barely perceptible, but she could read him like a book. Amarië longed to be a pillar of strength for Finrod, for reembodiment must be a whirlwind of an experience after time spent in the Halls of Mandos, not to mention memories of the horrors he must have suffered on the Hither Shores.

Amarië sought him out at the beginnings of dusk, when Eärwen and her father were engrossed in a private conversation. Finrod had left a few minutes earlier, and Amarië followed suit. She did not find him in the gardens or his room. She made a sound of exclamation. The beach! Quickly, she left Alqualondë and indeed, Amarië saw his figure in the distance. 

Finrod stood in the sand, his arms crossed as if to shield himself from the cool sea breeze. His tunic and golden hair fluttered in the wind, and Amarië thought her heart might burst in her chest. The flush on her cheeks was not solely due to the breeze. But then she caught sight of his face, and the flames of love warming her chest were snuffed out by despair. 

The expression on Finrod's face was so heartbreakingly longing, Amarië felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. What was across the sea that could elicit such an expression on his face. Or rather, who, Amarië thought, remembering the content of the brief letter Olwë had sent Eärwen this morning. She swallowed and blinked quickly to regain her composure. Once she was confident her voice would not break, she called his name.

“Findaráto?”

There was no sign whether he had heard her, but when Amarië stood next to him, Finrod glanced at her. They stood in companionable silence, watching the sea. 

“Have you ever wondered what is across the sea?”, Finrod asked quietly, and Amarië shook her head.

“No”, she admitted. “When the Darkness fell over Valinor, and Morgoth fled to the Hither Shores, I thought that only evil lived there. But then so many of us left…You should have seen Tirion that  day. It was almost empty. The city felt foreign and I had wondered whether our lives could be restored. In a sense, it was. Tirion bloomed again. New generations of Elves were born, to whom the Darkness and Flight were nothing but history. 

And sometimes, I stood on the balcony of my room and looked eastwards to the sea, and I wondered what evils you must be fighting on the Hither Shores.”

For a long moment, Finrod kept quiet.

“There were horrors, yes. Creatures whose only joy in their miserable, enslaved lives was killing and inflicting pain on the innocents. Battlefields so bloody ever step on the soaked earth squished, and so many dead that the burials lasted for days - if we managed to bury them at all.”

Finrod looked at Amarië and smiled sheepishly. 

“Forgive me, you must have no idea what I am talking about. Hearing about death and witnessing it are two vastly different experiences, especially for our people. I remember the first time I saw a human age. His name was Bëor, and he was the first of my mortal friends. It was fascinating yet frightening to see them…wither over the years. The way their skin would loosen and carve valleys into their faces, the way their hair would turn white and their backs hunched. They would become so fragile, as if a breeze was enough to knock them over.”

Amarië listened with fascinated horror. What a terrible fate! She could not imagine looking different with each decade. And to befriend such short-lived creatures seemed nothing but a source of pain. When she told Finrod, he shook his head. Yes, Men's lives were brief, and thus were their friendships, but they mastered crafts and sometimes achieved more in their life than an adult Elf in the same timespan. 

“The Hither Shores bore darkness and evil, yes, but they had riches not found in the Blessed Realm.”, Finrod said wistfully and for the first time, Amarië felt a park of curiosity. Perhaps Finrod would tell her tales of these lands across the sea. Finrod cleared his throat. 

“We should head back. I believe it is almost time for dinner.”

*

Eärwen departed from Alqualondë at dawn, and Finrod wished her a swift journey and to extend his greetings to Finarfin. Olwe had to return to his duties, and so Finrod and Amarië were free to spend the days according to their wishes. 

They visited places they had ages ago. They had fun and Amarië's heart was full at seeing his joy. Finrod seemed happy and unbothered, and Amarië began to hope that whatever shadows had haunted him had finally vanished. Finrod thought so as well. 

Alas, it was not so. 

On his third night in Alqualondë after his mother's departure, Finrod woke to Ithil still shining in the sky. Sweat beaded on his brow and his loins were aching. Finrod raised himself to settle on his lower arms, his chest heaving as fire coursed through his veins. 

Throwing the covers aside, Finrod stripped himself of his night shirt and stumbled to the bathroom connected to his bedchamber. His flush spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and even down his neck. Embarrassed, Finrod turned on the tap and splashed his face with cold water. 

His lips and hands tingled with the phantom touch of soft skin, and he thought he could taste sweat and…something different, more heady and intimate. Finrod closed his eyes, chasing the remnants of the dream but it had slipped from his grasp as dreams often were wont to do. 

Once Finrod had calmed down, sleep evaded him for a long time. He tossed and turned, wide awake and in turmoil. He had almost forgotten his promise to his grandfather. Tomorrow, I will talk to Amarië. I have stalled for too long, he resolved.

The following day, Amarië noticed that Finrod seemed distracted. He barely talked during breakfast. Perhaps he had not slept well? 

“Amarië?”, Finrod suddenly spoke up and she turned her attention to him. “Please meet me in the gardens after breakfast.”

“...Alright.”, she answered, slightly unsure what would await her, and Finrod got up and left the room. Amarië quickly finished her breakfast and excused herself from the table. Olwë's eyes followed her and he sighed. Poor woman. 

It did not take long to find Finrod. She found him sitting by the twin fountain of the one in Tirion and cautiously approached him.

“What is it that you want to talk about?”, she asked him, taking a seat next to him. Finrod exhaled slowly. 

“Amarië, you know we would have married?”

“...Yes, I thought so.”, she answered, her face turning warm. “I think everyone would have expected it. It seemed natural.”

“But then the Darkness came…”

“But then the Darkness came.”, Amarië echoed quietly. 

“And I left.”

“And you left.”

Her nerves were tightly strung. Finrod suddenly straightened his back and faced her fully. 

“Amarië”, Finrod kindly said and gently took her hands. A dark foreboding befell her, and she braced herself. 

“Yes?”

“I fear I must say something at last. Forgive me the pain my words will cause, and I hope it is not too late to save you from this heartache. I cannot return your affection, and it would be crueler to say naught. You are a wonderful friend, and a lovely woman, but my heart has not been mine for many years. I left it behind in her hands across the sea.” 

Amarië swallowed. Her ears were ringing. Finrod tightened his grip when he felt her hands start to tremble, and the devastation on her face threatened to cleave his heart in two. His sight became blurred.

“I am so sorry", he whispered. “I am so terribly sorry.”

“It is alright.”, Amarië whispered and kissed his knuckles. “I know you were not fully in love back then, and we have no way in who we fall in love with. I do not blame you. I hope you two were happy.”

“It was complicated, but I dare say we were.”, Finrod whispered. He kissed her brow. “I hope you still have the chance to find someone worthy of your love, and who can love you as you deserve.”

Amarië wrapped her arms around Finrod, who reciprocated without wasting a thought. He felt her tears soak his shoulder and closed his eyes to hold back his own - to no avail. For how long they sat embraced was unknown. It could have been mere minutes. It could have been hours. At some point, however, Amarië pulled back and quickly wiped her face with her sleeve. 

“I ruined your clothes.”, she mumbled but Finrod shook his head.

“Do not worry about it. I am afraid your clothes are in no better shape.”

Amarië smiled weakly. Then, she cleared her throat, squared her shoulders and grabbed Finrod's hands again. 

“Tell me about her. Tell me about this woman across the ocean.”, she requested and Finrod's breath caught in his throat.

“Are you sure? I do not want to pour more salt into the wound -”

“Please. I would like to know about this woman who captured your heart.”, Amarië begged.

“I am afraid I cannot tell you much. My memory of her is fragmented, more so than any other memory of mine.”

“Perhaps the Valar wanted to spare you the heartache by making you forget.”

“If that is the case, they did a poor job.”, Finrod chuckled. 

“But you will tell me if you remember her?”

“If that is your wish. I do not want to hurt you any more than I already have.”

“Then be at ease and know it is my wish.”

*

Amarië was glad to find their friendship unchanged. She had feared that after his rejection, all fluidity of their relationship and conversations would cease and be replaced with awkwardness. Fortunately, it was not so. 

She departed from Alqualondë two days after their conversation in the gardens. Throughout the journey back to Tirion, her mind was circling about this mysterious woman. Although her heart was heavy and aching, Amarië was somewhat surprised not to find a trace of bitterness against the woman across the sea. 

Perhaps deep down, she had known she and Finrod could never be. Finrod was a changed Elf, and even if they had married, Amarië was now confident he would have always seen her as a friend first.

If only her family would take the news as well as Amarië had. Her mother wept bitterly, and her father cursed that woman who had ensnared the elven prince. They took Finrod's rejection personally, and Amarië barely managed to keep her father from writing a furious letter to Finrod. 

“Do not be angry with him. We were naive to assume we could continue where we left off. Findaráto is not the Elf he used to be, and surely you would not begrudge him having found happiness on the Hither Shores? He told me many of our kin took Avari as spouses.”

“To think that many of our kin soiled themselves by entering unions with these inferior Elves is already a headache enough, but that Findaráto is one of them - what a dishonour!”

“Father!”, Amarië exclaimed, horrified by her father's words. Just because the Avari had refused the journey and had never been blessed by the tutelage and light of the Valar did not make them inferior.

“You act as if they are nothing but animals!”

“Are they not? I do not even want to know what their ‘civilization’ looks like. It is an insult he chose one of them over you.”, her mother said.

The words were lodged in Amarië's throat. 

Finrod and Amarië had never been engaged, much less courting. Her parents acted as if Finrod had broken off an engagement by being unfaithful. She grew tired of the pestering, and her heart was still healing. 

“Finrod is no longer the master of his heart, though I am not its mistress. Speak no more of a marriage between him and I. It is not to be.”, Amarië said and excused herself, ignoring her parents' calls. 

*

Amarië sighed as she thought back to that conversation a few days later..

“Whatever makes you sigh?”, Finrod asked, grabbing another apple slice.

“Family.”

“Eru.”, Finrod sighed. “Family can truly be a pain.”

Amarië laughed. “You know that better than I.” 

Finrod grumbled something unintelligible. 

They were having a picnic and enjoying some time away from court. Finrod had returned a few days ago and had told his parents of his lost love across the sea. They were grieved by the pain of his loss, but Finarfin was glad to finally have a reason for Amarië's father's dark looks. 

“I heard you acquired a permanent residence in Alqualondë.”, Amarië said.

“I did.”, Finrod agreed. “Seeing and hearing the sea makes the longing easier to bear. Ah, I am pathetic, am I not?”, he asked, flushing in embarrassment. 

“No, not at all!”, Amarië quickly said and grabbed his hands. “It is only natural that you would miss her, and if it makes lífe more bearable, then live as close to the sea as possible.” 

“Amairë, you are too good.”

“No, sometimes, you just think too much.”

Finrod smiled and threw an appleseed at Amarië. For a long time, they talked about everything and nothing. Finrod rolled his eyes at the gossip while Amarië was holding her stomach which shook with laughter. Once a companionable silence settled between them, he glanced at Amarië with uncertainty. 

“Do you still wish to know more about…her?”

Amarië shifted on her knees and looked at Finrod with wide eyes.

“Do you remember her?”

“Not fully, but at last, I know her name.”, Finrod said and he looked serene. 

“Tell me.”, Amarië pleaded, pain and curiosity warring in her heart.

“Kazaheril.”

“...That does not sound very elvish for an Eldar. Is she one of the Avari?”, Amarië asked after mulling the name over in her mind. 

“She is no Elf. Did I forget to mention that? I thought I did.”, Finrod mumbled to himself, oblivious to the devastation on Amarië's face. He gasped when she roughly grabbed his shoulders and wildly shook him.

“She is one of these humans you told me about? Are you out of your mind? Findaráto, why would you inflict this heartache on yourself?”, Amarië wept and Finrod managed to free himself from her grasp. He seemed slightly dazed for a moment. 

“Calm yourself, she is no human. She is immortal, like we Elves.”

“You are not making any sense. There are other immortals besides Elves on the Hither Shore? You only told me of Orcs, Dwarves and Men.”

“She called herself a ‘Naryii’, but could not say more about her people. She was the only one of her kind in Beleriand.”

“What a terrible fate.”, Amarië said, her heart aching with pity. “She must have been terribly lonely before you met.”

“...I am uncertain.”, Finrod admitted. “But I hope I gave her some companionship in our brief time together.”

“Of course you did, and if she still lives, I am certain it is a source of strength.”

Finrod remained quiet, watching a bee hum by. Impatience was boiling underneath his skin. He could feel the moment of revelation was close, the moment when the fragments he had been tormented with would finally give way to the woman behind it all. Day and night he prayed to the Valar and Iluvatar that the day he hungered for would finally come.

Then he would finally remember the woman, whose piercing orange eyes shook him to his core, whose lips and touch sent his body ablaze, who smelled so fragrantly of wild berry that Finrod never wanted to go another day without it. 

His thoughts must have trapped him for too long, for Amarië had to snap her fingers in front of his face to get his attention. 

“Her ears are adorable!”, Finrod burst out and promptly let himself fall backwards onto the blanket while hiding his flushed face in embarrassment. Amarië remained still for a few seconds until her mind caught up with Finrod's statement. 

“Her ears are…adorable?”, she repeated, uncertain whether she had heard him correctly. Finrod's nod was barely perceptible. 

“They are longer and more slender than ours, and they twitch”, Finrod groaned, the sound muffled by the crook of his elbow. “They move according to her mood and it is so mind-robbingly adorable, I cannot handle it.”

“I…can see that.”, Amarië quipped, amused by the half-hearted glare he sent her. “I would never have guessed ears being your weakness.”

“They are not my weakness.”, Finrod denied and sat up again. His cheeks were still faintly flushed.

“Hush, it was a tease, not an insult. We all have our little weaknesses.”

Amarië realised her mistake when Finrod's blue eyes sparked with mischief. 

“Oh? And what is your ‘’little weakness', Amarië?”, he asked and Amarië crossed her arms in front of her chest stubbornly. 

“I do not know”, she answered, and Finrod noticed the light tug on her strand of hair. He grinned.

“Ah, but my dear Amarië, you are a terrible liar. Have you been told you have a small tick when you lie?”

“I do?”, Amarië asked, horrified, and Finrod nodded. “What is it?”

“That will be my secret. So, confess: What is your little weakness?”

Amarië sent him a glare, but there was no heat behind it. Both knew that she did not have to tell him. 

“If you must know: eyes.”

“Eyes?”, Finrod echoed, raising his eyebrows. He pondered for a moment before pursing his lips. “A valid weakness. Eyes can reveal much of a person’s character.”

“Why, thank you.”, Amarië said sarcastically. “Here I thought you would judge me.”

“Perhaps I would have slightly, had you said feet instead of eyes. Or noses.”, Finrod jested and Amarië threw herself at him, making them topple over.

“You evil, evil Elf”, Amarië laughed as she poked and prodded Finrod's torso and armpits. His laugh skipped a few octaves at the ticklish touch, and Amarië relished in the sight of the handsome Elf underneath her. 

Alas, that he is not mine to have, she lamented and her heart grew heavy. However, she did  not want to linger on these dark thoughts. Finrod would notice and blame himself for something out of his control. They were both hurting from love, and their future was uncertain. 

Looking down at a still gasping Finrod, Amarië hoped that, once the world was made anew, she and Kazaheril would get along.  

*

Finrod looked at the bundle in his arms, his heart full with love for the baby in his arms. Ah, the little girl was beautiful. Their little girl. Their little Larylieth. The baby looked at him with wide blue eyes and tenderly, Finrod tucked a wisp of golden hair behind her ear. They were almost comically large in comparison to the baby. 

Kazaheril removed herself from Finrod's side to walk towards the bag she had placed in the table of the small cabin where they had met years ago. His eyes lingered on her, and his heart urged her to follow, so he did. 

“She is not fully weaned yet. I had planned to hand her over once she no longer depended on me, but Sauron is growing restless. Morgoth's spies are everywhere, and even Tol-in-Gaurhoth is not safe.”, Kazaheril said, her ears flattened against her skull in irritation. She reached into the bag and revealed a small bottle filled with milk.

“I milked myself to prepare you a short supply. Then she must be fed elven milk.”

“Kaz, my heart, she will not remember you.”, Finrod said sorrowfully and Kazaheril raised an eyebrow. 

“We had a deal, Finrod. I will not subject her to the same childhood I had. Neither Tol-in-Gaurhoth nor Angband are fit for a half-elf, for any child. You will raise her in Nargothrond, and whether she will know of me or not is not my concern. That was our deal. I must leave now.”

The Dark Sorceress of Angband and Sauron’s protegée prepared to shape shift, but Finrod caught her wrist. 

“Kaz, be careful.”

Kazaheril's hard features softened slightly and she cupped his face with her free hand. Finrod nuzzled into her touch.

“Stupid Elf.”, she whispered and kissed him. Finrod closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose, as if he wanted to ingrain her perfume of wild berry and smoke into his being. His free arms wrapped around her, as if to prevent her from leaving, but it was for naught. In the blink of an eye, she was gone and with a heavy heart, Finrod watched the raven fly north towards Tol-in-Gaurhoth.

Finrod shot up, his golden hair sticking to his temple. At last, the revelation had come. At last, he knew Kazaheril once again, but his joy was dampened by shock. How could he have forgotten his daughter? His Larylieth, his little sunray? 

Bitter tears of loss welled up in Finrod's eyes and dropped onto the bed. His family was across the sea - if they were still alive. What if his daughter was in Mandos? And Kazaheril, his wife only by elven custom, would she be in the Void with Morgoth, master of her soul? Or were they alive and together? If so, how did Larylieth react to her mother, who she had only known from stories? 

Unable to bear the turmoil, Finrod sought comfort. He slipped through the halls of his parent's castle until he stood in front of their bedchamber. Briefly, Finrod pressed his ear against the door. He would not want to interrupt anything, but from the other side of the door, only silence greeted him. 

Perhaps it was a parental instinct, but Finarfin and Eärwen were awake the moment Finrod closed the door behind him. 

“Findaráto? Is everything alright?”, Finarfin asked, still slightly sleep-drunk, and Finrod opened his mouth a few times until words finally were formed.

“I - I had a dream. I left them behind, Valar strike me, I left them behind! I failed Kaz and little ‘Lieth!”, he sobbed and his parents gathered him on their bed as they had done when he had been but an elfling. They held him as Finrod sobbed into his mother's chest while Finarfin leaned over to kiss his temple. 

Eventually, Finrod's sobs transformed into sniffles until his tears were dry at last. Eärwen looked at her eldest child and wondered what had made him this mess. 

“My son, what has you so grieved? Who are Kaz and ‘Lieth?”, Finarfin inquired gently. 

“I told you about the woman across the sea, did I not?”, Finrod whispered and he felt his mother nod. 

“I finally remember. Her name is Kazaheril and she is my…wife. At least, according to elvish customs. It is unconventional. The circumstances did not allow…I was just glad to have had her in any way I could, in any way she allowed me to have her.”

Eärwen made a wounded noise in the back of her throat. Finarfin frowned sorrowfully, and caressed his son's hair to calm him.

“Larylieth is your granddaughter.”, Finrod continued, and he heard his father's breath catch in his throat. “I promised Kaz to raise her in Nargothrond, but I had sworn my own oath long before she was born, and so I had to leave my daughter behind when she was in the midst of her adolescence.”

Finrod raised his head to look into his parents' concerned faces.

“I do not know what became of them, whether they live or wait in the Halls of Mandos. I failed them.”, he croaked. “I am a terrible father and husband.”

“Calm yourself.”, Finarfin said sternly. “You were bound by your oath, and if it was sworn before your daughter's existence, you cannot blame yourself for leaving her.”

“I thought I had more time”, Finrod confessed. “Larylieth was only 17 years old when I died. She was a child, and I left her!”

“I am certain she was not alone.”, Eärwen assured her son. 

“I left her in Orodreth's care, just like Nargothrond.”

“Then she will be fine.”, Finarfin said confidently.

Finrod was not wholly convinced, but he attempted to calm down. Certainly, Orodreth would have done his best to save her if anything had happened to Nargothrond, and perhaps Kazaheril had a trick up her sleeve which Finrod was unaware of. What did he know of dark spells, after all? He had been a king and warrior, not a mage. 

“Forgive me for disturbing your rest.”, Finrod said, but his parents waved off his apology.

“There is no need to apologize.”, Eärwen said gently. “It seems the regained memories came with pain, and we are always there to aid you.”

“I miss them so much.”, Finrod croaked and his parents thought back to the first night of Finrod's return, when he had ridden across Valinor to Alqualondë for a ship. 

“Will they not sail?”, Finarfin asked softly. “Perhaps patience will reward you.”

But Finrod shook his head. “Kazaheril cannot sail, and I do not know about Larylieth. Can half-elves sail?”

“I…do not know.”, Finarfin confessed, briefly taken aback by the information that his granddaughter was only half Elf. But who knew what races dwelt in the lands across the sea? Why should it be a surprise if love chose a non-elven partner? 

Eärwen patted Finrod's cheek gently.

“Try and get some sleep. Tomorrow, all will be well, and perhaps you can tell us about your family.”

Cautiously, Finrod nodded. “Alright. I shall disturb you no longer. I will see you in the morning.”

He slipped out of his parents' bed and sent them a small smile, which they reciprocated. 

When the door to their room fell shut, Eärwen grabbed her husband's hand. Her breath hitched in her throat.

“My love”, Finarfin soothed but Eärwen buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“Why must he suffer so? Findaráto has such a compassionate heart, such a kind and empathetic soil, yet he is tormented like that.”, she wept and Finarfin kissed the top of her head. 

“We shall be there for him. Findaráto will learn to live with his feelings - he must - and we will be by his side.”, he whispered. Eärwen lifted her head to look at her husband.

“I thank the Valar every day that you did not leave with your family.”, she confessed quietly. “I do not think I could bear being separated from you and possibly never reunited again. My heart aches for Nerdanel. Seven sons, and all are lost to her.”

“Fëanáro did her a great injustice.”, Finarfin said softly. “They were so happy in the beginning…he never should have created the Silmarils. Their beauty is not worth the pain they wrought. The blood of our kin soils them.”

Shifting slightly in his position, Finarfin bent his head and kissed his wife long and deep. He felt Eärwen melt under his affections and when they parted for breath, he leaned his forehead against hers.

“Let us not dwell on dark thoughts at this hour. Tomorrow, all will be well.”, he echoed her statement and Eärwen smiled shakily before snuggling closer. 

*

It was a strange feeling, standing in front of Mathan's forge. Despite knowing that his family had no grievances with the smith, Finrod could not help but hesitate before entering. The harsh meeting of hammer and metal, accompanied by the occasional hissing of water, could be heard even through the closed doors. Slowly, Finrod reached for the door handles and pushed the doors open. Above him, the silver chime of a small bell announced his entrance. 

The heat that greeted him was sweltering, and he wondered how his uncle had managed to work productively in such conditions. 

“A moment, please”, Mahtan called out and Finrod waited impatiently. Mahtan's voice brought forth memories of family feasts and gatherings - a happier time long before any Dark Lord was freed or any Silmaril was created, when the thoughts of oaths and darkness did not yet exist.

The forge fell silent and something was dropped to the ground. Finrod's head snapped up and met Mahtan's incredulous gaze. At his feet lay a towel, with which he must have dried his hands after work.

“By the Valar. Findaráto?”; Mahtan asked and Finrod nodded. 

“It is me.”

“When did you take the ship back to Valinor?”

“I did not. I died, Mahtan. I have had this body for a few weeks only. Forgive me for visiting only now, but the first few days were difficult.”

Mahtan nodded, his eyes dazed, and Finrod waited for him to process the information. 

“Was anyone else re-embodied?”, Mahtan asked, a dangerous tone in his voice. Finrod shook his head.

“Only I. Frankly, I am an extraordinary case. The Valar re-embodied me far quicker than any elf should have been. My cousins and uncles are still in Mandos. As for Fëanáro, he will not walk on Arda again until Dagor Dagorath.”

“Good.”, Mahtan grumbled and Finrod suppressed a shudder at the dark look in his eyes.

“How is Nerdanel?”, Finrod asked and Mahtan straightened his spine.

“My daughter burns with a fire not unlike Fëanáro had, though hers is less destructive than his. The loss of her family wounded her deeply, but it has been a long time and she is strong.”

“Is she home? My business is with her.”

Mahtan raised a brow,but nodded his head to the door separating the forge from the house and Nerdanel's studio. 

“She should be in her studio. You remember the way?”

“I do. Thank you.”, Finrod said and bowed. 

Before he stepped through the door, Mahtan's voice called his name. Finrod looked back, and the old smith's face was fond. 

“It is good to have you back, Prince Findaráto.”

“I have yet to decide whether I can agree with that sentiment, but perhaps Nerdanel can help me.”

Finrod saw Mahtan's frown as he closed the door. Swiftly and surely, he made his way through the corridor until he stood in front of Nerdanel's studio. The ‘clack’ ‘clack’ of metal against stone - or was it marble? - dimly sounded through the door. Finrod reached into the satchel hanging from his shoulder and retrieved a sketchbook. He was no avid painter - his skills laid in the realms of instruments and song - and he hoped Nerdanel saw the vision he had in mind. 

Two drawings he had fashioned, one depicting his daughter, one his wife. Perhaps their marble images would ease his longing to an extent. Raising his fist, Finrod knocked thrice. 

“Enter”

“Greetings, Nerdanel.”, Finrod said softly as he entered her studio and Nerdanel almost dropped her hammer and chisel. She stared at Finrod with wide eyes, as if she could not believe he was here, and who could blame her?

“Findarato? What - How? My sons, are they - no, they cannot.”

“Their oath prevents them.”, Finrod agreed. He averted his eyes. “I was reborn just  a few weeks ago and it was tumultuous, at first. My time in Mandos was brief, perhaps too brief.”

For a moment, Nerdanel looked as if she would burst into tears, but she swallowed and swiftly retained her composure. She cleared her throat.

“What brings you here now?”, Nerdanel asked, her eyes lingering on the sketchbook in Finrod's hands. “Shall I sculpt you something?”

“Please.”, Finrod begged her and Nerdanel seemed caught off guard by his intensity. Finrod looked at the drawings before handing them to Nerdanel. 

“I am no artist when it comes to pen and paper, but I hope you can work with it.”

Nerdanel looked at them and her face softened. 

“They suffice, worry not. They are dear to you. It is visible in the pencil strokes. You love them both, albeit differently.”

“You can read that from the drawings?”

“I must. The strokes of the pencil must be reflected in the statue. Who are they?”

“My wife and daughter. I only remembered them recently and I…”, Finrod's voice broke. 

“... miss them.”, Nerdanel finished gently. 

“Terribly. Every day and every night. Kazaheril is no Elf, she can never sail, and I do not know whether a half Elf can. WIll it help, Nerdanel? Will the statues help ease the longing for them?”, Finrod asked, his eyes lingering on the right busts on the shelf. 

“To an extent, yes. But I carved my sons' and husband's busts myself and could let my love flow into them. If the statues help little, perhaps compose songs about them.”

“So you will do it?”

“I will, but in return I want you to tell me what you know about my sons and Fëanáro.”

“That I shall, but I fear I will bring you more heartache than relief.”

“That matters not. Nothing could hurt me deeper than Fëanáro’s betrayal. He shamed me, robbed me of companionship and drove my sons into darkness. I do not expect happy news.”

So Finrod told her what he knew, and Nerdanel shed no tears despite the pain on her face. She seemed resigned, furious and disappointed. 

“Then they are truly lost. I shall not see them again until the world’s end.”, she mumbled. Absent-mindedly, she fiddled with the chisel in her hands. Finrod looked at her with pity.

*

Two weeks later, when Finrod had finally finished moving his household to Alqualondë, he received a letter from Nerdanel that the statues were finished and would arrive in the next couple of days. 

Finrod was filled with a nervous anticipation and felt as if the days dragged on. Olwë, tired of him sulking, drowned him in work and at last, news reached his ears that two massive parcels had arrived for Finrod. 

The parcels were moved to a secluded spot in the gardens, where two small pavilions had been built. These should protect the statues from sun and rain.

“Careful, please be careful.”, he begged as the statues were unpacked. After torturous minutes, the statues were free and Finrod's breath caught in his throat as a myriad of emotions swept over him. 

He owed Nerdanel far more than stories, for the marble statues were magnificent. It was difficult to believe that the material was marble, for the folds of their dresses and the billowing hair seemed so life-like, Finrod almost anticipated them to move. 

Larylieth had a bright smile on her lips and seemed to be in the middle of a dance, whereas Kazaheril was more regal and reserved with flattened ears and a straight posture. Her arms were slightly extended as she was reaching for an embrace. By whatever miracle, Nerdanel had managed to carve a speck of warmth in her eyes and oh, was there a slight uptick of the corners of her lips? 

When Finrod was finally alone, he approached Kazaheril. The pedestals were low enough that he had to tilt his head back a bit if he wanted to meet her eyes. Lovingly, he cupped her face with his hands, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones. 

“My heart, how good it is to see your face again.”, he breathed. Then, gripped by a wave of unbound yearning, he raised himself slightly on his tiptoes and kissed her cold marble lips. His daughter, he kissed on her brow. 

That same day, he started composing. For weeks he wrote and tweaked, balls of crumpled paper laid discarded on the floor of his rooms. Everyday, Finrod played until the tips of his fingers were sore, and when Amarië's letter arrived, inquiring if he minded her spending a few days in Alqualondë, the final notes were noted down at last. 

*

“Findarato!”, Amarië greeted him happily as she exited the carriage five days later. She hugged him, a habit he had started. 

“It is lovely to see you.”, Finrod said in return and Amarië looked at him carefully. He seemed lighter, as if some of the weight on his shoulders had lifted. 

“Life by the sea seems to treat you well.”, she said softly and Finrod bowed his head slightly. 

“Not just the sea.”

“There have been rumours that two great parcels were brought to Alqualondë. I wondered whether it was you, because who else would suddenly order such a large commission?. What on Arda did you order?”

“My wife and daughter.”

“...Huh?”, Amarië asked, taken aback. Daughter? Finrod had always only talked about a woman, not a girl as well. 

“Your…wife and daughter. I can understand that the woman across the sea is your wife, but you never said anything about a daughter.”

“I only remembered a few weeks ago.”, Finrod admitted and led Amarië to the gardens. “And as for my wife, we are not officially married, just in the…elven custom.”

Amarië gaped at him and halted in her walking. “Findarato, you have a child out of wedlock?”

“Theoretically, ‘out of wedlock’ does not exist for us Elves since the union of the bodies - Fine, I know how you meant it.”, Finrod mumbled and averted his eyes. The faint blush on his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. 

“...Will you show me the statues, then?”, Amarië asked after a brief moment of silence. “I admit, I am terribly curious.”

“Are you certain? I would not want to hurt you -”

“Findaráto. I would not have asked otherwise.”

“Alright. If you would follow me..”

Amarië followed Finrod deeper into the gardens. Nervousness slowly blubbered to the surface as she knew that every step carried her closer to these unknown women. Who could she expect? What creatures lived across the sea, and which of them had captured Finrod’s heart? 

Eventually, Finrod slowed down just before they would go around a bend, and faced her.

“Are you ready?”, he asked and despite him asking, Amarië saw the eager glint in his eyes. Inwardly, she steeled herself. Even if it might bring her pain - the ache was persistent - , he so clearly wanted to show her. Perhaps having a face to the name finally allowed Amarië to close that chapter of her life. 

“Yes.”, Amarië said. Show me Kazaheril. 

Finrod took her hand and led her around the bend. The back of two pavilions came to view, and Amarië spotted glimpses of white marble between the gaps of the wood. 

“Oh.”, Amarië breathed when they stood in front of the statues. 

“Amarië, meet my wife Kazaheril and our daughter, Larylieth.”, Finrod said, his voice dangerously choked up.  

Kazaheril was beautiful - that was Amarië’s first thought. Beautiful, yet proud and distant. However Finrod had warmed her heart for him, she could not fathom. Larylieth, on the other hand, was so painfully like Finrod. Her smile was his, and even her statue radiated with a life and joy which was absent in her mother beside her. 

Amarië’s hands were clasped together as she stared at the woman across the sea. Looking over at Finrod, her heart clenched painfully. The adoration and longing was plain on his face, and she wished someone would look at her that way. Amarië’s lips stretched in a soft, sincere smile and reached for Finrod’s hand again.

“Tell me about them.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”