A Different Kind of Purgatory [ Silmarillion ] 2

Chapter 18: A Long Foreboden Party

1495

Years of the Trees

As Eve readied herself with Amarië in her house on Taniquetil, her mind scattered itself across a thousand different problems. Today the families were reuniting a feast. Not automatically a bad thing. The bad thing was that Fëanáro was being forced to attend. Eve wasn't sure she wanted to face him.

Their recent interactions hadn't been bad, exactly. He'd been cordial. A bit more standoffish than the 100 years before when she arrived, but still... cordial. And yet, somehow... somehow she worried how he would take being surrounded by people who both liked and hated him.

A year ago, Melkor had been seen again. But since then, since Feanaro had shut the door of Formenos in his face, he'd been elusive. Eve didn't like that the Valar had given up finding him. He was like Satan, afterall. And if her catholic schooling had taught her anything, it was that Satan never gives up.

Usually for the Festival of Yavannië, they would of course head south. Eve still remembered that first festival she had attended, back when Aman felt like paradise. For though it still looked like paradise, the bliss of Aman had vanished. This year, however, Manwe decreed that the festival be held upon Taniquetil. In the massive hall of the Valar they would sing and dance and eat and drink.

All the elves and all the Maiar were invited. The Teleri had chosen not to attend, as did Ossë who would stay with them. But the Vanyar like Elenwë, and the Noldor all attended to the summons. So Eve found herself in Elenwë and Turvo's summer home, wondering how on earth she was going to manage seven brothers, a Fëanáro, a Nerdanel, and the house of Nolofinwë all at once in one place.

"Eve?"

She glanced over where Elenwë and Amarië sat on a bench chatting. Clearly they had finished their discussion, as both watcher her humorously.

"What?" asked Eve.

Amarië chuckled. "Your mind is far afield. We tried to get your attention."

"Sorry," she apologized with a short laugh. "I guess I'm just stressing over the feast."

Shaking her head and flashing a small smile at Eve, Amarië stood and walked over. Her pale green dress jostled as she did so. Before long she stood behind Eve and helped here tie her vibrant purple gown. "Stress not, my friend. Fëanáro will control himself, I have faith."

"Good, have faith for both of us," muttered Eve.

But Elenwë protested. "Eve, it is a chance for Fëanáro to be reconciled with the family! It is something to look forward to, not fear."

"I just..." She didn't know how to explain it. "I feel like something terrible is going to happen."

Amarië paused in her tying. Lowering her voice, she spoke to both women earnestly. "I will admit, my dreams have been dark lately. I have always felt some apprehension when around Findo, as though someday... someday there will be a choice. But I do not understand my feelings."

"You both need to settle your fears," Elenwë argued.

"Perhaps," agreed Amarië. She finished tying Eve's dress and stepped away. "There."

"Thanks." Eve walked over to a dresser and picked up a comb to even out her wavy auburn hair. Finally satisfied, she placed her circlet on her head and followed both her friends out of the small house and onto the streets of Taniquetil.

Hundreds of elves lined the streets heading up to the Valarin settlement. Vanyar and Noldor alike laughed and talked on the way. They caught sight of Finno, Turvo, Aro, and Findo waiting for them in their finest attire, circlets and all. Holding Turvo's hand stood Itarille, her golden hair curling in almost-ringlets down to her shoulders. Her little blue dress reminded Eve of Wendy Darling from Peter Pan. She stood half Eve's height.