A Different Kind of Hell [ Silmarillion ] 3

Chapter 16: Should Have Beens and Never Wills

Year 2 of the First Age

LAKE MITHRIM - THE YOUNGER HOUSES

Eve watched Itarillë's golden hair sparkling in the sunlight as she danced upon the shore of Lake Mithrim to nothing but the music in her heart. Finno protected them from Morgoth with his missions far afield battling the orcs. But Eve had found purpose too; protecting the precious child in front of her, nothing would keep Eve from attending to this mission.

Itaril didn't speak much these days. She preferred to keep to herself, or explore the shoreline looking for seashells. That was fine. Eve didn't mind sitting in the grass as Itarillë walked barefoot around their home. Inside the wooden walls, they were safe. The war against Morgoth stayed outside.

Clouds drifted away from the sun again, allowing its golden light to shine where the girl now twirled in circles. Sometimes, Eve could see Elenwë in Itaril's rich golden curls and shining grey eyes. She couldn't breathe. Eve felt her heart constrict at the thought.

Harsh words had been volleyed between both families when she and Káno first reached the second host of the Noldor. In anger, they'd tallied up the dead like some kind of competition. It hadn't taken Eve long to scream that she'd had enough.

Finwë, Pityo, Aro, Elenwë, none deserved to become pawns in the family feud. They were dead. Could they not mourn them? If they could not mourn them together, then at least mourn them in peace!

"Eve! Look!" Itarillë bounded up the short, grassy hillock overlooking the shore. 

Eve wiped away her tears and smiled at her. "What did you find?"

"It's a snail!" 

Eve laughed as Itarillë held out her small palm. Among a couple of damp, dirty pebbles indeed crawled a brown snail, oblivious to the grinning child transporting it what must've been worlds away for the little creature.

"I saw three," Itaril said. She continued to smile down at the snail. But as she held it up closer to eye level, the smile fell. 

"What's wrong?" 

What wasn't wrong? But Eve couldn't say that. She couldn't be the one to cry over her dead brother, consumed by flames. Or her captured brother, used as a bargaining chip by the devil. Or her best friend, whose death her own husband wouldn't speak of.

"Nothing," Itarillë said. She lowered the snail from in front of her face. But her nose scrunched up and tears welled in her eyes. "I should put it back. It probably misses its home. It doesn't like it here." She choked back a sob. "It wants to go home." She tried to look away from the snail but couldn't. "It wants to go home."

Eve's whole body ached as she stood from the ground and ran a hand through Itaril's hair. The girl never let the tears fall. But she cradled the snail and pebbles to her chest like they were the Silmarils themselves.

"Let's take her home then." She rubbed Itaril's back for a moment, giving a gentle nudge towards the shoreline. 

Of all the crimes that Eve held Fëanáro responsible for, robbing this perfect, gentle, beautiful girl of her mother ranked highest on that list. Eve watched as Itarillë stood barefoot on the shore and allowed the cold lake water to wash her feet. She made sure that snail got home.

As Itaril turned back from the lake, eyes filled with tears but never faltering, Eve tried to release the breath that had been stuck with the words in her throat. This little girl had survived hell. She had walked through it barefooted and head held high. Of all the House of Finwë to come to Beleriand, none were stronger.