Once Around the Sun

SUMMER

Having dismissed his students, Lindir only took as long as needed to tidy the instruments and papers away, before leaving the classroom himself and heading into the warm summer sunshine. It was particularly warm this year and he wanted to make the most of the all-too-short season.

First though, he had to find Námo. The Vala had declined to observe the class that morning, preferring instead to watch the smiths at work. Lindir had promised to seek him out after the lesson ended and so, with that in mind, he made his way to the smithy.

It was strange, he thought, how accustomed he had become to the Vala’s presence in his life. He had grown used to spending large parts of the day with one he was supposed to fear and enjoying the time spent together. Námo was, he had to admit, a very intriguing companion. Although the Lord of the Dead was coming to learn about life, Lindir found that he was also learning a great deal as well, shocking himself with how little he himself actually knew.

As expected, he found Námo waiting for him near the smithy doors. Lindir could smell the smoke and feel the heat even before he got there and he wondered at Námo’s cool and untroubled appearance. Perhaps the Vala did not feel the heat? He would have to ask.

“Good afternoon,” he smiled, hurrying up. “I trust I did not keep you waiting?”

Námo shook his head. “Not at all. Watching these Elves work has been quite fascinating, though I did fear one would pass out when he saw me standing there after cutting himself on a knife.”

Lindir laughed. “Not everyone has yet accepted that your presence here is purely educational! Come, it is a lovely day, I thought we would take the path to the waterfalls. It is not too long a walk and it is both beautiful and peaceful there.”

“That sounds pleasant,” Námo agreed, falling into step beside Lindir. “Your class.. it went well?”

“It did,” Lindir affirmed. “They are quick to learn and teaching them is a joy, unlike some classes I have taught before.” He was suddenly struck by the sheer domesticity of the conversation… the surreal feeling of having the most normal of conversations with the most unusual of companions.

They took the tree-lined path down to the waterfalls, the leaves only slightly muffling the roar of the falling water as they approached. He had been meaning to bring Námo here for some time, yet it was a fair walk from the house and often his duties kept him busy until late in the day. Now he had an afternoon free of work, he could show the Vala the glorious sight.

Námo breathed deeply as they stepped away from the trees and out into the open grasses that surrounded the deep pool of water. The fall towered high above them, the blue-white curtain glimmering in the summer sunshine - a magnificent sight, even to a Vala’s gaze.

Together they walked in the soft, green grass, the setting tranquil despite the roar of the falls. Finding a pleasant spot near the edge of the blue pool, Lindir sat and waited for Námo to join him.

They were not the only ones to seek the cool water that day. Nearby a tall warrior sat, auburn hair shining in the sun and his eyes sparkling with delight as a young Elfling darted around, bringing him pebbles, leaves and anything else her young mind found interesting. He humoured her, treating her discoveries as though they were rare treasures and carefully building a pile next to him.

She turned as they approached, her small face lighting up with delight. With a mixture of pleasure and trepidation, Námo realised that it was the same child who had taken such delight in teaching him about the Oliphaunt and the apple.

She ran up to them, the memory of a child never failing. “Do you remember the song?” she asked, eyes wide. “Uncle Thórod has forgotten again!”

He chuckled at her enthusiasm and heard Lindir doing the same. “Yes, little one, I believe I do remember,” he told her.

This answer produced a squeal of delight and before he knew what was happening, she had taken his hand and pulled him over to where the other Elf sat. “This is my Uncle Thórod!” she announced proudly. A thought crossed her mind and she grinned again. “Oh, my name is Indwen! Who are you?”

“Indwen! Manners!” Thórod admonished, looking apologetically at Námo. “Please forgive her, my lord, she is prone to... over-excitement.”

Námo waved the apology off and a rare indulgent smile graced his face, something Lindir did not miss. “I am Námo; I believe you already know my companion. I am new to Imladris and Lindir is showing me all the nicest places.”

“Oh, this is the nicest place ever!” she informed him. “There are stones and flowers and butterflies and if you paddle the fish tickle your toes!”

Námo laughed. “Well, that sounds quite delightful. May we sit here with you?”

Her reply was a joyful nodding, accompanied by her pulling his hand until she agreed he was going to sit in ‘just the right spot’. He humoured her, sitting carefully and pronouncing it very comfortable, much to Lindir’s amusement. Ignoring her uncle, she proceeded to show him all she had collected, until Námo looked more overwhelmed that a Vala ever should and Thórod took pity on him, sending her off to play.

“She is a very happy child,” Lindir smiled, watching as she darted around. “Her parents must adore her.”

Thórod looked uncomfortable. “Were they here, I am sure they would: she would be a treasure to any parent.”

Námo frowned. “Where are they then? Surely they did not just leave her?”

The warrior shifted, before choosing his words carefully. “They are… your guests, my Lord.”

Silence fell, as the truth of the statement sank in. Námo, though not responsible for their deaths, only for what happened afterwards, felt guilty, the thought of this happy, carefree child having suffered such a loss deeply saddening. “I… am sorry,” he said, unsure of how best to express his feelings. For all of his experience he had never before seen what was left behind after he took the dead to his halls.
Thórod smiled, shaking his head. “It was not your doing, I understand that. She was very young when they died; she barely remembers them and it caused her no noticeable suffering. I moved here from Lindon to raise her – I was going to take her back to Lindon with me, but I found I could not bear to part her from everything she knew. Although I miss my sister, it has been a joyful experience and I was also fortunate enough to meet the rogue I eventually married!" He grinned.
“Of course you do,” Lindir added, joining the conversation again. “Though I am sure they would be proud of the job you have done.”
“I hope so,” Thórod smiled. “It has not always been easy, for I must work and leave her in the care of others, but she seems to be happy enough.”
“Indeed she is!” Lindir chuckled as she ran back over, her arms full of flowers and begging Thórod to make them into a garland for her. He sighed good-naturedly and began to twine the stems together.
“Hello, mother hen!” A laughing voice suddenly joined in, and they looked over to see a dark-haired warrior coming to join them, though slightly hindered as Indwen wrapped her arms around his legs. “They are your colours,” he grinned, gesturing to the pink and white daisies as he managed to sit down, placing the Elfling on his lap.
Thórod rolled his eyes. “This loud-mouth is Lantion. Ignore his blathering, for despite all his posturing he has a heart of gold – he looks after Indwen when I go on patrol.” He patted the Elf on the back. “This is Lord Námo and Minstrel Lindir – the latter of whom you would know if you ever set foot inside the Hall of Fire.”

Lantion shrugged unrepentantly, though nodded respectfully at Námo, slightly unnerved by the presence of the Vala of Death, though he tried not to show it. “Too quiet,” he replied. “We much prefer to come here, or go berry-picking and exploring, do we not, little flower?”

Indwen nodded. “Last time we found so many berries I had purple hands and a purple tongue for two whole days!”

“I remember,” Thórod said dryly. “You had purple clothes too.”

“Just a little fun,” Lantion laughed, his eyes sparkling.

The banter was light-hearted and cheerful, yet Lindir noticed that Námo had fallen silent. He was watching Indwen as she supervised the making of the garland, now being worked on by both warriors. Had the Vala finally started to understand why he was sometimes resented, why life was so precious? Perhaps the time had come to talk. He had grown to care greatly for the Vala, finding the arrogance and formality fell away once you started to know him, no more than a mask.

Standing, Lindir bowed politely to the warriors. “We will leave you to your flowers,” he smiled. “I am sure our paths will cross again. Goodbye Indwen, you make sure these two behave!”

She laughed. “I will!” Running up, she hugged them both, before letting the Elf and the Vala leave to find some privacy.

Once out of sight, Lindir took Námo a small copse, still within view of the falls, but more secluded. “You are troubled,” he stated plainly.

Námo nodded. “I did not understand… did not see how unfair it was. The souls that came to me… rarely did I think on those left behind. I see now why even Elves take risks, why their lives are so full of experiences, challenges and passion. It has to be – in case it ends.” He turned to face Lindir. “You are the reason for my learning this and for that I am grateful.”

Smiling, Lindir edged a little closer. “You are worth teaching. I knew that soon after you arrived here. You have a good heart, though it is often hidden behind claims of duty and dignity. If you did not, then you would have disregarded my challenge.”

“How could I refuse? You sang so sweetly I wanted to hear more… to see more of the world that produced such beautiful music.”

“Ah, so you only like me for my voice!” Lindir teased, feigning hurt. “I am wounded!”

Námo hesitated for just a moment before shaking his head. “Not at all. I like much more than your voice.” Leaning forward, his pressed a light kiss to the surprised minstrel’s lips.

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