To Travel With Wings

A/N: After this, one more chapter, an epilogue, and the story will be finished.

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Silnar felt her knees knock together as she stepped onto the raised stone. Taking a deep breath, Silnar straightened and looked directly into Manwë’s eyes. They were deep and filled with such wisdom that she had to look away.

“Have no fear of me, my child,” Manwë said, his voice soft, but distinct. “I bear only love for thee.”

“Why hast thou come to these shores? Why dost thou hide the Avari from our eyes?” Varda asked gently, a soft smile gracing her lips.

“I-I was unsure of our reception, My Lady Varda.”

“Thou shall not stand on ceremony with me, my little flower. Thou must know that thy reception shall be a welcome one. Thou hast fulfilled thy duty and satisfied the Prophecy of Mandos.”

“W-what prophecy, if I may ask,” Silnar queried.

Mandos stood, his form blotting out the Sun. “Once, long ago, a child was born. Upon her was a dark shadow and it troubled me greatly. I meditated a long while and the answer came. She was to be the Deliverer. And now she has delivered, thus may her reward be given.”

Silnar shook her head. “I desire no reward for my actions. I did only what I felt was right.”

“Surely there is something thou desire?” Yavanna asked her eyes wide.

Biting her lip, Silnar nodded. “I-I want to go home, to Imladris. I want to be with my love, Glorfindel.”

“Yet thou hast no desire to learn of thy past?” Varda asked. “Dost thou truly wish to never know thy origins?”

Silence reigned as Silnar stared hard at the Queen of the Stars. Slowly, Silnar spoke, “Of course I do, and you must know this desire. But if I were to choose between knowing the truth or returning to Glorfindel, I would choose the latter.”

Manwë stood; his face impassive and his eyes resolute. “It is not thy choice to make. Ilúvatar has decreed that thou must know the truth; thou must fulfill thy entire destiny. Thou art mine daughter and Varda’s daughter. Thou art of the Valar, a race above all others, meant to rule this land in peace. It is time for thee to assume thy place at our sides.”

Silnar felt as if all the air had been sucked from her body. Her chest felt tight and she could not seem to breathe. There had been suspicions of an otherworldly heritage, but she had believed herself to be no more then a Maia. In that moment, Silnar felt her soul die, she knew in that instant she would not see Glorfindel again. He would not be her lover and she would never bear his children. Her life was no longer hers. Tears filled her eyes and trickled slowly down cheecheeks, trails of diamonds.

Varda felt her heart break as her daughter stood on the stone, forlorn and lost. Rising, Varda reached for her and Silnar ran into her arms, chest heaving with sobs. Manwë still stood; his face immovable.

“Why dost thou weep so, mine daughter? Thou art finally home; thou art with us once more.”

“Forgive me, I am so overwhelmed. I just want to go home.”

Varda whispered sweet nothings into the ears of her daughter until the sobbing subsided. “I know, daughter, that thou dost not want this, but it is time to reveal thy true self to this world. For so long, thy memories have been lost, but now they will be found. Look into mine eyes, daughter, and know thy truth.”

Raising her face, Silnar forced her eyes open and became entrapped in the eyes of her mother.

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A large palace hewn into the side of a mountain. A vast bedroom filled with comforts. A woman sat rocking in a chair, a babe in her arms. Beside her stood the tall beauty Yavanna, peering into the wrapped bundle.

“She is the most beautiful babe I have laid eyes upon, Varda. What shall thou name her?”

“I shall name her…Narwarel, fiery daughter.”

“Her hair is certainly that,” Yavanna agreed with a smile as her hand ran through the curls of auburn that decorated the head of Varda’s daughter.

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Mandos held Narwarel with care as the baby pulled on the tassels of his robe. She giggled and smiled charmingly at the Vala of Doom who frowned. Varda noticed his gloomy expression.

“What ails thee Mandos?”

“Since thou bore this babe, a shadow has haunted her. I have spent much of my time thinking on this shadow and consulting Ilúvatar. I fear a great doom has been laid upon this child.”

Standing abruptly, Varda rushed to Mandos, clutching his arm in fear. “What kind of doom? Why dost thou say such things?”

“Thy daughter must fulfill a mission of greatest import when she comes of age. Cherish the time that thou hast with her, my Queen, it shall be oh so brief.”


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“Telimektar¹, come hither this instant!” Narwarel cried petulantly, stamping her tiny foot into the grass.

The son of Tulkas stood several feet a lau laughing uproariously at the little daughter of Manwë.

“Thou must come hither, littlest flower, if thou wish to retrieve thy doll!”

Telimektar held the cloth doll by one, floppy arm. Narwarel glared fiercely at her tormentor. “Thou give me no other recourse!”

Taking a deep breath Narwarel cried, “ATTO*!”

Wincing, Telimektar threw the cloth doll at Narwarel and fled into the distant hills, not wanting to face the wrath of Manwë. He could always find plenty of other things to do.

Manwë appeared before his in daughter with a rush of wind, his eyes crinkled with worry. “What ails thee, daughter?”

“It is fine now, Atto; that silly Telimektar left.”

Rolling his eyes at the antics of Tulkas’ juvenile son, Manwë scooped his daughter into his arms, now happily caring for her doll, and carried her back to Taniquetil.

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The setting sun washed the surrounding vegetation in dying golden light. The world seemed to almost be on fire. Narwarel sat amidst the flame, enjoying the dying heat of the day. Caressing a flower, Narwarel blinked her eyes to stop the tears. This would be the last sunset she would remember. The time had come to accept her mission.

Looking up, Narwarel espied the tall figure of Telimektar. He was golden and talke hke his father, but his build was not as bulky. Rather his mother had gifted him with her lithe grace. Smiling up at her friend, Narwarel banished her grief for the moment.

“Where is my brother, Fionwë²? He is rarely absent from thy side.”

“I have left that one with thy parents. I wished to say goodbye in private.”

“It is not goodbye, Telimektar, a s a short absence. I will fulfill my mission and return to this beloved land with all haste.”

Sadly, Telimektar took Narwarel’s hand. “Once, my father entertained a match between us.”

“I care very much for thee, Telimektar, and such a match would not be averse.”

“Let me finish, littlest flower,” Telimektar chided. “I am older then thee and far wiser.”

Narwarel laughed, but refrained from commenting.

“I have some gift of sight, my littlest flower, and I think that thy journey shall not go as easy as thou would like. Therefore, I release thee from my father’s wishes. I will wait for thee, of course, for what is time to one such as I, but if thou returns from Arda, and wishes not for me anymore, then I shall abide by thy decision. The love I bear for thee is that of friend, and a match would provide strong children, but this heart would not be broken by refusal.”

Laughing merrily, Narwarel launched herself into Telimektar’s arms. “My dearest friend, I love thee. Thou art so kind and wonderful. I shall cherish thy friendship forever, whether we join or not.”

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The present slowly filtered into Silnar’s mind as her eyes began to focus on the face of her mother. Tearing her eyes away, Silnar stepped back slowly, a chill pervading the air. Shaking her head, tears flowed and Silnar warded off any comfort her mother would have provided.

“I must return to the ship. I told Minyatúr that if I did not return soon, to sail without me.”

“Thy friend awaits thee outside this circle. Time does not pass at the same rate in this hallowed circle and many days have gone by whilst thou was here.”

Gasping, Silnar rushed away from the circle and down the winding stairwell. Perched on the bottom step sat Minyatúr, sleeping peacefully. Silnar barely touched him before he was wide awake.

“Oh, Silnar, you are not harmed?”

Hugging her friend, Silnar shook her head. “I am fine, Minyatúr, and I have such wonderful news for you. The Valar have granted my request, you may stay!”

Opening his mouth, Minyatúr faltered as his eyes stared disbelieving past Silnar’s shoulder. Turning around, Silnar saw the muted form of her father and behind him the rest of the Valar.

“Long have we awaited thee, Minyatúr, King of the Avari. Thy journey has been long in coming, but we greet thee with love and relief. Wilt thou consent to spend the rest of thy days on Valinor? A place shall be set aside for thy people.”

“I thank you, Lord Manwë; I thank you for your pardon and gift. The Avari will hold you in esteem forever.”

“So it should be,” Manwë agreed, “But one more shall thou hold in esteem as well. To the Vanyar, Varda is born with much love. To the Noldor is Aulë, and to the Teleri comes Ulmo. So shall thou have one and I gift thee with my daughter. To her thou will send thy prayers and she shall be the subject of thy songs and deeds.”

Manwë turned to his daughter, whose face was impassive, betraying no pleasure, but no grief. “Thy mother, Varda, named thee so long ago. It was a fitting name, Narwarel, but one meant for a child. Thou art no longer a child and have come into a new role. Therefore I shall give thee my name, Colindomóre, bearer of dark, for thou brought forth the Dark Ones and bore them to Aman.”

Silnar bowed her head in acceptance and took Minyatúr’s hand. “We must go to the Avari, Minyatúr, and bring them home.”

The two turned and began the long walk back to Alqualondë.

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The Avari quickly acclimated themselves to their new home. They had come to love the sea so much that they dwelt on Tol Eressëa, and created a settlement not far from Avallónë. They named their new city, Hópacala, Haven of Light, and Silnar dwelt with them for many years. Once the Avari had settled down and began new lives, Silnar departed for Taniquetil. Even though her heart yearned for distant shores, she could not help but wish to be in the comforting presence of her parents. Her mind was torn for she now held so many memories and feelings. She was like two different people, Narwarel of Aman and Silnar of Endor# and she did not know who she wanted to be.

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Varda watched her daughter stare into the gardens, a woebegone expression on the fair features. Narwarel was thinking of him again. Yavanna had come to her shortly after Narwarel’s move to Taniquetil and told her of all that had happened between Narwarel and her two lovers on Endor.

Fionwë stood next to his mother, his hand draped on her shoulder. Fionwë had his fathers blue eyes, but his mother’s dark hair. He was handsome and sought after by many potential maidens, but his heart beat for the hunt. Only the reappearance of his sister had torn him from the yearly hunt with Oromë, In, In, Ingwionª, and a score of others.

“I fear that she withers away everyday,” Varda whispered.

“Aye, she is in love with that Elda, Mallelóte,” Fionwë muttered.

Chuckling, Varda shook her head. “According to your sister, it is now Glorfindel. That is what he answers to on Endor. He is a noble Vanya ws des dedicating his life to that of Turgon’s line. He always loved Turgon.”

“Aye, because of his Noldo blood,” Fionwë muttered darkly.

“Watch thy mouth, Fionwë, thy prejudice is showing,” Varda chided. “What happened so long ago is over and cannot be altered.”

“Thou art correct, as ever, Amil** I am sorry. I will say this before I depart, if something is not done with Narwarel’s melancholy, she will be of use to no one.”

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¹Telimektar is the son of Tulkas. He can be found in The Shg ofg of Middle-Earth and The Book of Lost Tales I and II.

²Fionwë is the son of Manwë and Varda in The Shaping of Middle-Earth and The Book of Lots Tales I and II.

³Ingil is the son of Ingwë in The Shaping of Middle-Earth and The Book of Lost Tales I and II.

ªIngwion is an alternate form of Ingil, but I decided to use it and create a second son of Ingwë.

*Atto means Daddy in Quenya.

#Endor is the correct name of Middle-Earth; I have been calling it Arda throughout the story and just now realized my mistake.

**Amil is mother in Quenya.