Once Around the Sun

SPRING

Back in his halls, Námo was unable to get the minstrel’s challenge from his mind. The Elf had wanted him to reside amongst them, to learn what it was to live, that he might better appreciate why they clung to life as they did. He had declined, naturally, for it was impossible, and yet the suggestion still lingered.

Vairë approached him, concerned. “You are quiet… and yes, more so than usual.” She stood next to his chair, her eyes meeting his as he looked up.

He observed his wife as she did the same to him. She knew almost as little of living as he did, though through her tapestries she had a window to the world.

“What troubles you?” she urged, unsettled by his lack of response.

Námo sighed, knowing he would get no peace until she had answers. “Life,” he replied. “Or perhaps, a lack of it.” He was silent for a moment before finally recounting the events of the day and the challenge with which Lindir had presented him.

Vairë looked intrigued. “It sounds a most interesting proposition. Why did you decline?”

He looked at her oddly, as though she had taken leave of her senses. “Is it not obvious? I cannot simply leave the halls and go wandering around Arda! My absence will not stop people dying, but there would be no one to lead them to Mandos and lost souls would be scattered all over Arda. Then where would we be? It cannot be allowed to happen.”

“You are not the only one who can call a soul, husband,” Vairë smiled. “Others could stand in your stead.”

Námo frowned, unconvinced. “Who would you suggest?”

A new voice spoke then, amusement in his voice. “I have some small experience in soul-calling.”

Turning, Námo faced his brother. “Irmo. What in Eru’s glorious name are you doing here? I thought you never left your gardens.”

Irmo chuckled. “Vairë sought me out. She is worried about you – as are we all. This 'challenge' is a good idea, brother: you should take it. You have dwelled in these dreary halls for far too long – the Elf is right. You need to experience life. Dreams can take care of themselves for a time whilst I stand in here.”

“For a time?” He was starting to feel as if he had little choice in the matter.

Irmo nodded. “One turn of the seasons. Go brother – see how much life you can live in one year.”

********************

He arrived at Imladris in the spring. The trees bore fresh leaves, bright green and ever increasing in number. Birds flitted in and out of them, feeding the fledglings that were nested amongst the branches. On the ground, flower buds peeked through the grass, promising an explosion of colour in a few more weeks. A gap in a bush revealed the entrance to a rabbit’s burrow and, as he watched, the mother led the babies out for the first time, their tiny eyes blinking in the bright light. New life… how fitting.

He walked slowly down the path towards the house, having chosen not to simply appear and scare the residents. Vairë had suggested he hide his identity, but he had refused. If he were to experience living, then he would do so in full, without the restrictions that would come with keeping his true self a secret.

Entering the grounds, he looked around. The large courtyard led up to the house and he had expected to find many people here, but there were only half a dozen children playing, watched over by their nanny while the parents saw to their other duties.

Approaching the nurse, he attempted not to look intimidating – a little difficult after an eternity of habit. “Good morning,” he greeted her, watching her eyes go wide in fear. He was suddenly saddened that just his appearance was enough to cause such a reaction. Perhaps his wife’s idea had merit after all. “I mean you no harm,” he added swiftly. “I wish only to speak with Lord Elrond.”

Still looking afraid, the woman pointed to the house. “In there, My Lord… through the doors and to the right… his door bears the Star of Eärendil.” She was clearly too frightened to take him there herself, especially with the children in tow, so he thanked her for the information and went inside.

Lord Elrond’s office was easy enough to find. The high wooden door with the Star of Eärendil was exactly as the nurse had said. He knocked, out of propriety, and waited for the call to enter.

When it came, he stepped into a neat, well-furnished office, the smell of ink and parchment immediately evident, though it mingled with the smell of hot tea from the pot on the desk and wafts of fresh spring air that blew in through the open window. It was a strange mix of fragrances though far from unpleasant, he decided.

Lord Elrond was seated behind the desk in a high-backed chair that bore the same carving as the door. Beside him was another chair, less elaborate, though still ornate. This chair contained a most familiar face.

“Greetings, Lord Elrond.” Námo smiled, turning to the shocked Elf next to him. “Lord Glorfindel, how good to see you again. You are looking well.”

Glorfindel’s usual confidence and calm demeanour faltered in the face of the highly unexpected guest. Never had he expected to see Námo again – not unless his luck ran out a second time. “Lord Námo!”

“Indeed,” Námo confirmed. He turned his gaze to Lord Elrond. “I apologise for disrupting your household, son of Eärendil, but I am afraid I must. I require – accommodations.”

Elrond was equally as surprised as Glorfindel, though made an effort to conceal it. “Accommodations, My Lord? You intend to stay with us?” The Lord frowned, unsure of why the Vala would want to stay with Elves who would likely fear him.

Námo nodded. “For one turn of the seasons. It has been… pointed out to me that I know little of life, save for the end of it.”

Glorfindel was inclined to agree with this sentiment, but he had the sense to hold his tongue.

“I see.” Elrond’s tone was curious. “If I might ask, who was so bold as to suggest such a thing?” Bold, or foolish? He certainly had no desire to state any such thing to Lord Námo, true or otherwise.

“His name is Lindir,” Námo replied, a strange smile pulling at his lips. “He made his opinion quite plain.”

Elrond grimaced. Lindir was an excellent minstrel and often a help in the healing houses, but sometimes sense seemed to utterly desert him. This was apparently one of those times. “Glorfindel, if you would be so kind to bring minstrel Lindir here with all possible speed?”

“Of course.” Getting up, Glorfindel left the room after a final suspicious glance at the visiting Vala.

************

Well, at least Lord Elrond had not killed him - though that might have been difficult, under the circumstances, Lindir thought wryly. He had not fired him either, which would have been an even worse fate.

Still, it was strange, knowing that the Lord of the Dead now resided in the rooms next to his. They were not the most luxurious chambers that Imladris had to offer, but Elrond had informed Lindir – in a tone that clearly showed his displeasure with the situation – that since this had been his idea, he was solely responsible for Námo’s education.

At least his challenge had been heeded! When Námo had left that day, Lindir had not expected him to listen, or even think on their conversation again. Yet by some miracle, he had and, though he still feared Námo, his respect for him had increased. Though teaching him how to live would prove a challenge for them both, he was sure.

Looking out of his window, he watched the sun set. Námo had requested to be left alone for tonight, but tomorrow the work would begin. Lindir could only hope he was not in over his head.

************

Lindir chewed on the sweet bread as he sat around the strangely quiet breakfast table. Usually the table was loud and full of activity, but today it was as silent as their guest’s halls.

Lord Elrond sat with a son on either side, the usually talkative twins holding their tongues. Glorfindel had spent the entire meal giving Námo suspicious looks and Erestor was quietly observing the whole spectacle.

The minstrel felt unaccountably annoyed. Námo had come here to learn about life and they were acting as if they were dead! He tried to make small talk, but it faded as quickly as it started. The Vala's presence was having an unnerving effect on the people of Imladris.

Sighing, Lindir finished his meal and stood. “If you will excuse me, Lord Elrond, I have much to do this day.” Turning to Námo, he offered him a small smile. “Do you wish to accompany me, my Lord? I have something I believe you may find enjoyable.”

Námo nodded, setting his own plate aside, acutely aware of the tension surrounding him. “I would be delighted.” Rising, he was only too grateful to follow Lindir from the hall.

As they walked down the corridor, he looked curiously at Lindir. “Where are we going?”

Lindir chuckled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “To see some new life.”

Suspicious, but realising he would get no more out of Lindir, Námo could only wait.

Not long after, Námo found himself sitting in with Lindir's first class of the day: made up solely of young Elflings, full of energy – and life. He felt almost overwhelmed as they swamped him, fearless and full of curiosity.

A tugging on his robe caught his attention and he looked down. One of the smallest Elfling he had ever seen was staring up at him, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Yes, little one?” She obviously wanted to ask something.

The big eyes blinked twice before the reply came. “You know the Oliphaunt and the apple song?” The child’s voice was so soft he barely heard it.

An apologetic smile graced his face. “I am afraid I do not, little one.”

The little face looked so crestfallen that even the usually stoic Vala was moved. “Perhaps you can teach me?”

The girl's eyes lit up and she nodded enthusiastically. To Námo’s absolute shock she clambered up onto his lap and took his hands. “And there's the dance too!”

Námo silently bid his dignity farewell as the little Elfling taught him exactly how the Oliphaunt took the apple from the tree.

Nearby, Lindir watched, a smile on his fair face. The sight was heart-warming and, despite the Vala's misgivings, he had a feeling that Námo was going to do better than he expected at the art known as living.

*****************