To Whatever End by Grundy

A Fresh Start

Míriel frowned.

Indis had been easier to sway, with her brother so set on returning to the Trees that had captured his imagination. Míriel was less enthusiastic. Indis has also been pleading with her, but Finwë thought perhaps if he tried while Indis was off gathering the berries Míriel wanted for her latest project.

“How do you know this will be good for everyone?” Miriel demanded.

Her fingers were busy even as she spoke, twisting the fibers from the latest variety of plant she suspected would make a better thread.

“We will be safe there,” he repeated. “No constant worry about losing people.”

‘Losing’ was a good-face way of saying ‘person has been killed or taken’. It was not a word Finwë had contributed – he is working on a better way of expressing ‘good-face word’, among others – but he used it all the same. There was little point in fighting a word nearly everyone agreed on.

And more so than the word, he does not like losing people.

They had returned to find Elwë’s sister and her mate lost. Elmo and Olwë had searched for her for weeks, but eventually had to admit that they would not be found. Elmo was resigned, but Olwë bitter that their older brother had not been there, as though Elwë’s presence might have changed it.

Alwë had been a good friend and frequent work-partner of Míriel’s.

“We may well find other worries,” Míriel sniffed, eying the results of her twisting sharply. It must not have been to her satisfaction, for she began again anew, adjusting her movements ever so slightly.

“You could hone your craft better if you knew the shadow rider was not at hand,” Finwë offered. “And perhaps you can spin fibers from the Trees or their leaves. Think of it, cloth made of light!”

He has already shared the memory of all the vibrant colors with her, and is hoping for something else that may catch her curiosity.

“And perhaps, there…”

Finwë stops short of saying it.

It is not only grown elves who have been lost. The shock of the first losses had ended their hopes of a child long before the little one looked on the world. On the far side of the Sea, their children will be safe. Their children will not be lost, nor lose parents as Alwë’s boy had.

“Very well,” Míriel sighs. “Because you are so set on it, and Indis desires to see the new flowers. Though I am still not sure it can be all you hope.”